I used to work in a nursing home part-time as a nurse aide. I worked as an administrative assistant in a hospice before then and my boss at hospice (longtime RN) warned me about how bad the facility was. I kind of just took her warning for granted.

The place was abysmal. The same routine went on every evening shift--get the residents up from a nap, dress them, put them in front of the TV before dinner, eat, and then put everyone down without any time to digest (lying down right after a meal can cause heartburn and indigestion). People who'd soiled themselves would often go hours without being changed. I once caught one of my coworkers about to hit a resident (she quit shortly thereafter). The longer I worked there, the more depressed I became--I could only help these people if I was around to make sure they got adequate care, and at 16 and going to school full-time, it was nearly impossible.

Additionally, the nursing staff knew my mother (ex-nurse practitioner; she was an awesome nurse but kind of an awful professional) and assumed that I acted like her, even though I'm nothing like her because I was raised mainly by my pacifist father. I was consistently bullied, left alone to help a fallen patient (I was 105 lbs at that time and I had to help a 300-lb guy off the floor more than once), and written up for the stupidest shit out of my control. Twice, I was written up for not coming to a staff meeting--during school hours and despite informing the DON that I had publicly mandated education to attend.

I was informed that "we're going to fire you" for no reason; I quit before they could fire me. I was afraid to mope back to hospice, but my boss called me the day after I quit and said "come work for us as a home health aide."

Worked there during college breaks for a year since then and I am in love with hospice care. I occasionally have patients in my old facility and always take time off the clock to see the residents I'd befriended.