The Day 'Hurry Up' Increased: Care Became a Chore | The Busier We Are, the More Dignity Is Eroded

Please hurry up a little.

The moment I said that,
a small sense of discomfort remained within me.

I don't actually want to rush them.
I don't want to treat them carelessly either.

But on the floor, nurse calls overlap, and the next toileting assistance is waiting.

The documentation isn't finished yet, either.

There are days when 'getting through the shift' takes priority
over the desire to 'provide attentive care.'

And before I knew it, I found myself moving while looking at
the 'next task' instead of the resident's face.

What gets cut first in understaffed workplaces

When working in nursing care,
there are almost no days where you feel like you have 'time to spare.'

Morning assistance, toileting assistance, meal assistance, documentation, responding to calls, emergencies...

The moment you think you've finished one thing, the next task piles up immediately.

Especially on days with staff shortages, the very atmosphere of the workplace changes.

Prioritizing 'getting through the shift without accidents'
starts to take precedence over 'providing attentive care.'

Of course, that in itself is not wrong.

As long as we are supporting the lives of residents with a limited number of people,
ensuring safety is essential.

However, in that lack of breathing room,
there is something that gets chipped away little by little.

That wasthe 'room to wait.'

You become unable to wait for the resident's pace.
You become unable to listen to the end of their story.

Before you know it, the conversation stops being 'interaction'
and becomes nothing but 'instructions'.

"Please stand up."
"Let's sit down."
"Shall we hurry a little?"

I used to feel a strong sense of discomfort with such remarks.

I want to value the other person's feelings more.
I want to interact in a way that provides more peace of mind.

I thought that was why I had continued this work.

But as the busyness continued,
I found myself changing little by little.

The fear of 'it can't be helped today' piling up

I still remember the time I was assisting a resident who took a long time with toilet care.
I remember it even now.

That day, there were few staff members, and the whole floor was hectic.

Calls from other residents overlapped, and I was quite flustered.

So,

"Can you stand?"
"Let's try a little harder."
"Shall we hurry a little?"

I repeated those phrases over and over.

At the time, I 'intended to be encouraging'.

But looking back now,
the person I was really looking at back then was not the resident.

What was in my head was,

"I have to go to the next care task."
"I have to get back quickly."
"I have to keep the floor running."

It was nothing but things like that.

In other words, I was looking at the 'tasks,' not the resident.

The busier care work becomes, the more it unconsciously turns into a routine.

Meal assistance becomes about 'getting them to eat.'
Excretion assistance becomes about 'getting it finished.'
Conversation also becomes nothing more than 'confirming necessary information.'

And what is scary is that this is not a story about someone special.

Days when you are tired.
Days when you are short-staffed.
Days when you have no room left to spare.

It can happen to anyone.

Dignity is not destroyed by strong malice.

'It can't be helped today'

I think it is gradually eroded through the accumulation of those small moments.

In the previous article, I wrote about whether we are unconsciously depriving people of their freedom and choices behind the words 'for the sake of safety.'
It is content that is deeply connected to this article about how dignity is eroded in the midst of busyness.

▶ Are we depriving them for the sake of safety? | The boundary between protecting and binding

'I know, but I can't' is the most painful thing

Care workers, more than anyone, truly understand this.

I don't want to rush the users.
I want to listen to them more.
I want to interact in a way that provides peace of mind.

The staff on the front lines understand better than anyone that dignity-based care is important.

That is precisely why it is painful when we cannot do it.

I myself have often regretted it after returning home, remembering the expression on a user's face and thinking, 'Was that the right way to say that?'

This happened when I was assisting with a meal some time ago.
I was using an impatient tone and saying things like this:

'Let's have another bite.'
'Let's do our best to eat.'

At that time, I was prioritizing 'getting them to eat.'
I was looking at 'finishing the meal' rather than 'that person's time.'

After the assistance, that user said in a small voice:
'You seem busy today, don't you?'

Those words pierced my heart.

The people we care for feel everything.

The staff's impatience.
The lack of composure.
The atmosphere of assembly-line work.

That is precisely why I think this.

What is truly dangerous is not being busy itself.

It is becoming accustomed to being busy.That is what it is.

On the busiest days, I want to reclaim 'one minute of dignity'.

Staff shortages will not be solved immediately.
Workplaces chased by time will not change overnight either.

That is why, even today, someone is working on the edge.

There is a reality that cannot function on ideals alone.

Even so, there is something I want you to be conscious of on busy days.

That is,
reclaiming 'one minute of dignity',that is it.

This is not about providing perfect care.

Look the person in the eye and call them by their name.
Tell them 'I am going to move you now' before assisting them.
When you have kept them waiting, say 'Thank you for waiting'.
Even if you are in a hurry, do not touch their body in silence.

Even just doing that will change how the other person feels.

I used to think of 'attentive care' as something too big.

I must spend more time.
I must be more supportive.

The more I thought that way, the more I suffered from the gap with the reality of what I could not do.

But what was truly important in the workplace was not perfection.

Even when busy,
let's treat this person as an individual.

To regain that awareness, again and again.

I believe that is what leads to care that protects dignity.

To you, who are doing your best amidst staff shortages

Among those who have read this far, there may be some who felt,
"I'm the same."

Running the facility every day with a bare-minimum staff.
Documentation never ends.
You can't even take a proper break.

Even so, you keep moving to protect the lives of the residents.

The current state of nursing care is truly severe.
That is why there is something I want to tell you first.

The fact that you work hard every day is by no means something to be taken for granted.

The moment you worry for the sake of the residents and think,
"Can I interact with them in a better way?"
I believe you are already doing enough to cherish them.

You don't have to be perfect.
It's okay to have days when you lose your composure.

But if you can stop for a moment in those times and
"The person in front of me is someone who has lived a whole life."

If you can remember that, care can still regain its warmth.

That is what I believe.

Summary

Dignity is not something that is only protected in special situations.

Busy days.
Days when you lose your composure.
Days when you truly cannot be kind.

Even at such times, can you stop yourself and try to "treat the person in front of you as an individual"?

I believe that dignity-based care is surely
about accumulating those small choices.

I, the author of this article, have also spent over 20 years in the nursing care field, facing the lives of users and their families.
Why do I insist on sharing information about 'dignity-based care' and the 'power of words'?
The background behind this is summarized in my pinned self-introduction article.

▶ Takaru Horiuchi | Active Care Manager 〖Giving Shape to Communicating x Being Understood〗

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Zero Physical Restraint Is More About Resolve Than Technique | It Begins the Day You Decide to Face It Seriously

'It's dangerous, so it can't be helped.'

This is a phrase used as a matter of course in nursing care settings.

But behind that 'it can't be helped,'
what are we losing?

Next time, I will write about the weight and resolve of deciding 'not to use physical restraints,' based on the conflicts I have felt in the field.

If you could empathize with this article even a little,
I would be happy if you followed me and read the next one as well.