My Worst Day at Work … Ever

I tried, but I just wasn’t cut out for being a CNA

Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash

For my entire life, which at that point was 19 years, I had wanted to be a writer. But until then, I needed to make some money.

I had a short string of healthcare jobs, and with what I earned, I took a class to certify as a nurse’s aide. I thought maybe I’d get in to nursing school. I thought, if nothing else, being a nurse’s aide would be interesting to write about.

I have some notes for articles I wanted to write (about interactions with staff, mostly — I didn’t write anything specific about patients, due to HIPAA rules) — but for many years, I didn’t want to look at them.

It’s like thinking back to “the war.” You don’t go there.

My CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant) classes were held in a closed nursing home. It was cool, but also a little creepy. Walk around a corner, and you’d see old beds stacked up in rooms.

I am a good student, but making beds with “mitered corners,” or giving bed baths, wasn’t exactly my forte. I was the youngest in my class, kind of lost in my own world, and slow. My teacher had trepidation about me, but a lot of patience.

But I learned. I learned that “QD” means “every day” and “PRN” means “as needed.” I learned how to mix thickener…