Fudge

So like I said, the Merps lost a CNA that works the weekends.   They needed a replacement in short order, so naturally they quickly advertised, interviewed, and did all the other standard things employers looking for qualified people do.

Just kidding.   They hired another church lady they know.

I met her briefly one Sunday night; it was shift change and she was leaving as I was arriving.    As we walked past each other, she said “Hello Alex”.  I forcefully said “WRONG NAME”, ignored her reply, and reentered Merp House.  I had a decided lack of hope for finding the place in something approaching coherent order.   

The place looked OK, so I went to the Kitchen and got the Report book.     Even though the n00b couldn’t get my name right, her written report was actually pretty good.  Her report included the plethora of wonderfully boring information about her shift in mostly complete fashion.  Unfortunately, it also confirmed my suspicion that the person the Merps hired wasn’t chosen for any kind of clinical skills/experience.

“However did you know this?” you might ask.  Well, I based my assessment on the fact that her report contained the following details: “1430 O’clock:   OG made a #2, a fudgy”.

1430 o’clock?  #2?  A Fudgy!?    Are you fucking serious?  Religion is not and should never be a qualification to do a job, ESPECIALLY a job that has precious little to do with your (or any) religion.  The Merps and this n00b might have shared the same religious delusion, but that doesn’t mean she’s any good at her job.  Judging from her stellar performance this eve and those amazing notes, it looks like she’s not going to be, though the jury is out.

The rest of the story:
Created to protect their privacy as required under HIPAA, “The Merps” was a less then complimentary reference to the patient family I was caring for at the time.  Every member of the family, save one, had some kind of debilitating medical or psychiatric problem—if not both.  The wife suffered the lingering effects of Polio, contracted in the pre-vaccine days of the 1950s.  The husband (AKA OG or the Old Guy) had VERY advanced Parkinsons and Dementia, a son (AKA Merp Derp) had severe intellectual delays, the daughter (AKA Merp Daughter) acute mental health issues.  One son was relatively normal—except for being very gay and very Mormon…so he got christened “Normal Son”. 

N00b did not last. While she might have been a great church friend or person in general, her clinical skills fell flat on their face.  While she consistently took great notes, she failed to understand and execute even the most BASIC nursing tasks.  She also repeatedly failed to complete vitally important infection control and sanitation tasks. 

On one occasion I returned from days off to find a patient’s bed made– with the waterproof bed pad upside down, plastic backing facing up, and adsorbent padding facing down. (This would have made it completely useless if bodily fluid was spilled on it, causing fluid to run off and into the bedding, instead of being trapped by the adsorbent fluff on the other side of the pad).  On several other occasions, I located used latex gloves that she’d made into the patient’s bedding instead of throwing them away.  Then there was the time she threw dirty gloves in the wash and set them out in the patient’s bedroom.  Lastly, she tossed bloodied gloves aside or hid them in locations other than the trash instead of disposing of them immediately.  Several complaints and fierce documentation helped her get fired several months later.

Originally written
January 2011 Taylorsville, UT

Updated
November 2025 Portland, OR