From The Heart Of A Nursing Home Caregiver

Someone said we will all need counseling when this is over. I’m not sure we don’t all need counseling now.

I know death comes with my job. I realize my residents are living out their last years, and I’m lucky enough to be part of their journey.

I get to know my residents. They tell me about their families and share stories about the past. I watch them smile and laugh because they’re happy, and I hug them when they’re sad.

My residents get to know me and my family. They ask about my girls. They aren’t just residents; they’re my people.

I have lots of people, and they all need to see me smile. They need to know that I’m happy to be with them on this day and any day.

I see the residents who aren’t sick, and I try to make them smile. When a resident is ill, I sit with them for a while. We talk if they feel up to it—if not, we just sit quietly. I hold their hand and let them know they’re not alone.

When their time is up on this earth, I grieve. I miss them. But because of the job I love, I can’t really show it. Not showing my grief is probably not an ideal solution, but it has worked for me. That is, until now.

I have to say that I’m not hating wearing a mask right now. Because it’s really hard to fake a smile when you just heard about another one of your friends passing—especially when you know they probably won’t be the last.

Grieving is not something we can allow ourselves to do. That’s because we have many other residents who don’t need to see us like this. They need to see us being there for them. We need to let them know they can count on us.

Yet, there’s only so much grief you can hide. There is only so much you can push down and ignore. And we can’t save it for when we get home, because we have families, and we need to be there for them, too.

I know the families of our residents are feeling helpless. They want to be with their loved ones. Families need to know their loved ones are being cared for and loved. And they are. We do everything we know how to make this horrible situation just a little better.

Caring for our residents is not something we take lightly. I treat every one of them exactly how I would want my mom, dad, or grandparents treated. That’s the easy part. The hard part is letting go.

I’m not alone, and I know that. We all feel this way. Every person I work with is grieving right now. We all feel emotionally bankrupt, but we don’t get the chance to stop and just let it out. I’m constantly fighting back the tears. I know I’m not alone in that either.

So, when do we get to process all of this? When do we get to grieve the loss of our friends? When will this nightmare of a virus be over?

Can you relate to Melissa’s story? How do you renew your spirit when the pandemic drags you down?

Melissa Turman serves as an activities director in a Georgia nursing home.