The Mouse

There he was. He was sitting on his little bottom with his paws folded in front of him staring at the elderly people having coffee in the Activity room.
I was sitting at my new desk, going through the drawers looking to see what the previous director had left for me to use to run this program. As I watched, the residents threw little tidbits of their snack to the mouse and he gobbled it up and sat back on his bottom begging for more.
You have to understand that there are several things I hate in this world, bugs, snakes, people that lie, and the list goes on, but mice and roaches head the list.
I think my face showed the surprise and hatred for this situation because the residents started to smile and chuckle. They were used to feeding this mouse on a daily basis. I jumped up and started to run to the Administrator of this building; the lady that convinced me to change jobs. The lady that said that this facility needed me. The lady that had been my friend for years.
I told Cheryl about the mouse and the impossible working conditions. She calmly said that she would have it taken care of and that every thing would be ok.
I returned to the activity room with a heavy heart. “What had I done?” I had moved to Missouri five years before and had helped clean up a facility to the point that it aced the state surveys. I knew that the residents were clean, well taken care of, and were kept busy with activities that they enjoyed.
But I didn’t know if this facility could be helped. I quietly resigned myself to just pretend everything was ok and do one day at a time, this facility would be a good clean facility some day too.
I continued my search through my desk and determined that I needed a lot of supplies if I was going to have a good program for the residents.
The activity room had cupboards and drawers that hung and covered one whole wall of the room. I was sure that they contained everything that I needed. I opened up the first cupboard drawer and roaches scampered out when the light hit the contents of the drawer. I screamed bloody murder. I again went running to the Administrator. When I approached her, she had tears in her eyes and told me she had just been shown grass growing in the shower by the new Director of Nurses that she had convinced to come to the facility. There is a word to describe a situation like that one, but it is not printable.
Other things happened that day that in comparison were trivial, but added up to a big mistake for my career. I had come from a five star facility in South Dakota five years ago. I was used to cleanliness, compassion, and happy residents. I was miserable.
When I went to my new little apartment that night, I told my husband what had happened that day. He had transferred to that facility too as the head of the Maintenance Department. He had a completely different attitude. He said the facility was such a mess that it was job security for him for years. He laughed and patted me and assured me that I could rectify the situation. He would help me get it cleaned up. It never measured up to my expectations.
I had my mother transferred there so I could oversee her care, and within a month or two transferred her out along with me.
There are times that beating your head against a brick wall will eventually give you nothing but a headache. I transferred to another facility that had an Administrator and staff that did care about their building and residents.
The mouse and I parted company. He was a happy rodent, and I was happy to be gone.