Monday 29 September 2008

The end justifies the means.....

Ness is tiny, a bustling, giggling bundle of fun who stands four feet seven and weighs about six stone. She came to us as a carer last year and when she arrived for interview I was momentarily speechless, and let me tell you, that doesn't happen often. Our moving and handling training is the best you can get, we go above and beyond what is required and I spend endless hours nagging for equipment when it is needed but still, I could not imagine this pocket Venus handling a sixteen stone client when she would be hard pressed to see over the side of a hospital bed.
She had no previous experience and at twenty two she had a checkered job history and a complete absence of self esteem. If I doubted Ness would make it, Ness herself doubted it more. I commenced the interview with the feeling I was going through the motions. Her size was against her and she was a bundle of nerves. She visibly flinched when I described the type of personal care tasks the job entails and her hands, with nails bitten to the quick, were constantly twisting as she avoided eye contact throughout our talk. Somehow though, I couldn't turn her away. I am a sucker for a sympathy story and Ness had never had a chance. Her family were travellers and she had missed out on a lot of education. Her mother had a long history of mental illness and Ness had spent much of her childhood with extended family because her mum was too ill to care for her. Ness confided that she had a boyfriend and they wanted to set up home and that she needed a job. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she told me that she could read a little but could not really write more than a few words and she had found it impossible to get work. All logic said I should say no but something about the kid made me smile and I sent logic to make a cup of tea and told her I would give her a trial.
The training was traumatic. The mere mention of the word had Ness shaking with fear and, in the end, I got her through the mandatory courses by paying for one to one training and allowing her to take tests verbally with the trainer. She could write basic entries in communication books although, in truth, they were never really that legible and her spelling was so eccentric that sometimes it was pure guess work to unscramble it until her team mates got used to her. Ness did have one break though. She lives in one of our rural areas and the only possible team she could work on is headed up by Clare. Clare is in her late twenties and is bright, feisty, stroppy and the most efficient Team Leader in the Organisation - and Clare decided Ness was going to make it. Over the last year they have been an education to each other. They are only a handful of years apart in age but their lives are diametric opposites. Clare is well educated and sporty, she plays Badminton for the County and spends her spare evenings teaching sport in a youth organisation. She has taught Ness to believe in herself, she gives her no quarter, Ness goes to all the clients and Clare has worked out ways for her to handle even the most disabled and the heaviest of customers. Ness has taught Clare to lighten up, to laugh when things go wrong and to spend a bit of time smelling the flowers rather than taking life at break neck speed. She has also taught Clare patience and tolerance of those who are not skilled in the areas that she finds effortless.
I went out to observe Ness the other week. She was getting Reg out of bed. Reg has had a stroke and his right arm just does not work, he weighs at least fifteen stones and his ability to weight bear is borderline. He can stand momentarily if he hangs on to a bar but it is touch and go - frankly, he could do with a stand aid but he is a young man and he desperately clings to what independence he has and I don't want to compromise that while it can be avoided. Most carers can manage him but I just couldn't believe Ness could swing his legs round and support him as he stands so that he can be cleaned. I was delighted to be wrong. Ness kept up a stream of banter while she bobbed around him like a humming bird, moving him seemingly without effort. She was literally unrecognisable as the anxious girl who had fought to make eye contact in her interview all those months ago. Reg is curmudgeonly but he shone like the sun when Ness teased him, he obviously loved her to bits. The only time she wavered was as we left the house. She looked up at me, suddenly timid, and said "Was I alright?" When I reassured her that she was bloody fantastic she confessed that she had been unable to sleep the night before because she was terrified that she would be found wanting and would lose her job. She told me that she loved the work, that it had given her confidence and that she felt useful for the first time in her life.
All carers have to undertake NVQ training. Much of it is practical assessment but there is also some research and written reports to be done. I avoided the issue for a long time. There is no chance of Ness managing the work. She is terrified of the assessment and the reading and writing aspects are just beyond her. When I have broached the subject she has been unequivocal - make me do it and I will leave. Even the suggestion that I get her basic skills training first has been received with a mutinous shake of the head.
I finally broached the subject with the Inspector from Care Standards, she who must be obeyed and the person who ensures that we meet the standards required of us. The Inspector was sympathetic but unmovable - Ness must be registered for the course. Clare was furious but determined that Ness would not leave. Before each assessment she coached Ness, playing the part of the Assessor with clients who were in on the scheme and who thoroughly enjoyed the subterfuge of being guinea pigs for Ness' practice runs. Today Ness told me she has handed in her final written work. I don't know if she dictated it to Clare or if Clare just did it for her. I don't want to know, I am turning a blind eye just as I did when they turned my rural team into a giant theatrical set with clients in leading roles for a week before each assessment. Ness is a wonderful carer. Clare has learned to be more gentle. The clients have felt useful and have had huge fun.The NVQ Assessor has ticked another box. It may be unorthodox but I reckon it has been a shining example of what teamwork should really be.

7 comments:

Cat said...

I agree that sometimes the devil is in the detail - so to speak. Perhaps this is seen as a failing by my own managers but ultimately, the end is that someone who you know is delivering a great service to people and who cares, is able to continue doing so. There are few enough people around who fit the role so why push away those who are exactly the kinds of people who we all need to have around!

AnneDroid said...

Great post again. If it were me or mine that were needing care, it's not the paper qualifications that would strike me as most important.

I worked in a small healthcare unit in the past and it was our auxiliary there who was THE most loving, tender, gentle, thoughtful, and generally wonderful carer. The patients all loved her. Yet she was the only nurse without the formal qualifications and I doubt she could have done them!

Anonymous said...

Great post! For some reason your writing reminds me of James Herriot... because it seems anecdotal, maybe? Is that fair?

Anyway. Hello there! :D

Suzy x

Caroline said...

Hello yourself! hmm, know what you mean but the stories are true - names and some details changed but definitely true. I am working towards some more diary style stuff detailing the day to day issues but have twenty odd years of stories to get through first! Thanks for reading x

Anonymous said...

Um... I was always under the impression James Herriot stories were true.

... aren't they? ;(

Don't shatter my dreams!

Suzy x

Caroline said...

heh, yes point taken x

Anonymous said...

i enjoy your writing quite a bit, the stories and your personality and values as they shine through. Good for you and your team to find creative ways to help Nell meet the requirements.....and I am SURE that the clients who were involved felt thrilled to be able to help someone else! I swear the hardest parts of old age/disability are the loneliness and the lack of purpose in life.