Working With Agitated Residents

"She'll shout," the senior AIN told me in the corridor. "She'll say things. It might be confronting. Just relax and follow my lead."

Anne (not her real name)'s care plan ran about as long as my arm.

The job was changing her incontinence aids. Not glamorous.

The AIN knocked, walked in and told Anne I was a student who'd be helping. Anne said yes. Even said, "Good morning." I shut the door behind me and thought: this is going well.

Famous last thoughts. 😆

At the AIN's first touch, Anne shouted. A full, bloody-murder, wake-the-dead scream.

She has severe pain in her right knee and ankle; her care plan confirmed this. I, for one, couldn't tell if this was actual pain, fear, or both. The AIN said it was both. In a person who's old and frightened and hurting, the line between those things is blurry at best.

The AIN rolled Anne to face me, on her right side. When the AIN started on her tasks, Anne grabbed my forearm. Long fingernails sunk in.

Here's what surprised me... NOTHING. 🤯

I wasn't startled.

It hurt, sure. But my mind was somewhere else entirely... on her.

Was she okay? Was she scared? Were we hurting her?

The AIN saw my arm and acted fast. She'd experienced this before. "Relax, Anne," she said, holding Anne's hands, encouraging her to loosen them. Then she grabbed a deodorant and a small container and pressed them into Anne's hands. "Hold on to these. Don't drop them."

And just like that, Anne had something to squeeze other than me. The shouting didn't stop. But the grip did. Simple. You don't learn these at lectures.

I did what I was told, and we finished the job.

My mind was racing. Especially with what happened next...

The AIN didn't strip off her PPEs and move to the next room.

As I was about to open the door and make our exit, she stayed. She talked to Anne, low and slow, about not much at all. She told her the RN was coming with her medication. She comforted her and promised to check on her a little later.

That's the bit they don't put on the assessments. The after. The few minutes when the tasks are done, nobody's checking a clock, and you're deciding whether to move on to the next person on your list or do a little extra to leave an agitated old person a little better than you found her.

On busy mornings, which is usually the case at aged care residences, it can easily not get done. But I saw it happen... in a situation where no one would judge her for skipping it.

When we walked out, I replayed the whole experience as I jotted down some notes on the little notebook I carried with me.

I was impressed, twice over.

Once by the AIN, who'd turned a bad few minutes into something better for Anne.

And, second, by myself. No shame in that, I hope...

I had walked into that room braced for something confronting... and I didn't falter. I'm not saying that to pat myself on the back. Well, a little bit.

It was just good to learn that about myself before I'm alone on a shift.

These little insights that you gather about yourself are super-useful. And these cannot be taught. I'm certain, my colleagues would have had heaps of such moments.

This experience also sits oddly next to something I wrote previously, where I said the floor staff /AINs were immaculate on tasks but can be thin on conversation, and that I'd walked past a sixty-year golfer myself.

This is the flip side of it. The same floor, the same pressure, and staff who go the extra mile.

Leave each resident better than you found them. I will remember this.