SERGEANT-AT-ARMS - The Thin Edge of Dignity

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Cheek bones tightly squeezed, lips curved downward, brows furrowed,  squinting eyes shifting side-to-side, hypervigilance exploding throughout the dining room.  She and her cohorts are on the prowl – not for  leaping lions,   crouching copperheads,  scurrilous scorpions. No! For walkers. The bi-podal choice – nay, necessity – we elderly in my Assisted Living Facility.

Being a Walker Stalker is not a personal choice by the sergeant-at-arms – although she seems to glow executing the charge – or the other hapless employees. It is thrust upon them, because these caregivers are on the front line of the dining room ingress and egress. And how can caregivers squeeze between tables to care for the residents, who are seated around each table,  if each person’s walker is parked, as residents prefer, by their chair?

It’s obvious. Walkers must be gleaned and warehoused. And that’s what the caregivers do. They glean – one person toting three, even four or five, to a solitary corner in the dining room.

And mistake not – this action is top priority. Resident’s must hold their food orders until the walker pick up has ended. The cook, ladle in pause mode, stands by the food basins. But as he makes his first downward stroke, stragglers with walkers enter.  Stop the gathering of food choices.  Restart the gathering of walkers. Restock the menagerie.

Time passes. Diners run out of conversation. Stomachs rumble. Patience wears thin. A gradual sound of distress fills the room. . .   But then – the last walker is stashed. It’s time to take menu orders. Time to serve. Time to eat. Time to leave. . . .

Uh. Oh. The walkers need to be returned from valet parking and returned to the proper owner, so s/he can walk back to her/his room.  Thus. . . . caregivers head for the stash, and search for identifying marks that will ensure that each resident gets his/her  correct bi-podal device. With aplomb – or trepidation – the walkers are paired with their loved ones.  

All’s well that ends well – until the next meal.

 

Dick Weinman is an AARP Volunteer Blogger and an Assisted Living Guru