PSWs work closely with some of society’s most vulnerable people: those with disabilities and the elderly. In long-term care settings and in private homes, they help people like me with what’s known in the business as “Activities of Daily Living.” These include the most basic of things we all need to do every day, like going to the bathroom (helping us get on and off toilets or commodes and then disposing of whatever bodily waste has been ejected), getting in and out of bed, washing and hygiene, dressing, eating and drinking. In private homes they may be responsible for administering medication. ADLs could also include shopping, wrapping Christmas and birthday presents, going to school or the gym, doing every household chore imaginable, taking care of pets, writing letters, cooking a meal, changing a dressing, making phone calls, or filing paperwork. When I still lived at home, mine used to help me freeze summer berries and produce. Whatever the client wants to do, PSWs make it happen.
They also know how to use the equipment that many of us depend on every day, such as walkers and wheelchairs, lifts, braces, splints, catheters and ostomies. The possibilities are endless and they all become normal.
They are often the first ones to notice and report a problem in the making, such as a scratch or bruise, a bad mood, a cough or anything that doesn’t seem quite right. As you can imagine, the relationship between a client and their worker can be very close. The best of them become trusted family friends, shoulders to cry on, morale boosters, comic relief, celebrants of achievements small and large, and sounding boards whenever we need to rant.
Most are women and many are immigrants. In long-term care facilities, they work long 12-hour shifts with few breaks. Their working conditions can be poor, since they are often doing hard, physical labour in someone’s overheated or muggy room. It can be a struggle to find the time to take the breaks that are deducted from their salaries. Now, because of Covid, they’re wearing masks that force them to breathe in their own carbon dioxide all day long. All this for minimum wage or slightly above it with few if any benefits. Many of them must work at more than one institution in order to get enough hours.
At the beginning of this essay I referred to ADLs as being “known in the business.” Unfortunately, taking care of the bottom line has also become an issue. Covid illuminated all the cracks in LTC, and unfortunately it’s gotten a bad reputation as a result. The biggest is there aren’t enough PSWs. The ones where I live received a bonus payment from the federal government in two separate amounts, but there was no increase in their hourly salary.
Through emergency relief programs, provincial and federal politicians proved that they can quickly free-up large sums of money to address Covid-related problems. The PSW shortage will continue to be an issue long after the Covid crisis has waned. How will we convince more people to enter this profession without offering them a better wage? Why haven’t we provided a cash incentive to anyone who graduates from a PSW training course? Where are the subsidies to colleges who teach this program to increase enrolment? What about providing financial assistance to their students? When will two levels of government realize they need to provide financial support to public and private LTC facilities for seniors and people with disabilities. These are measures that could have been put in place during last summer’s brief reprieve after the first wave, or implemented now for courses to begin next September. Instead, we are still trying to catch up because there aren’t enough good PSWs to go around.
What kind of value do we as a society want to place on the care of our most vulnerable?
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