Philip Y. Kao PhD thesis - Research@StAndrews:FullText

wanted to take her time. As soon as Lana was on the toilet, I heard Norman in the
background, “Lana, go ahead and empty your bladder.” When she was done on the toilet,
she pressed her call button again. Meanwhile, Norman was sitting on the couch, drinking
coffee, and waiting to offer the next set of critiques and instructions.
We cleaned Lana and put on a new pair of briefs, a bra, pants, socks and shoes while she
was still sitting on the toilet. After this, we attached her sling to the EZ-stand and stood
her up, whilst pulling up her briefs and pants. We pulled her out of the bathroom, slowly,
and into the middle of the room. Picking out clothes was a rather hard ordeal, because
Norman wanted her to look pretty. As a matter of fact, Lana always slept with her wig on.
I picked out a turtleneck, which was always de rigueur according to Norman, and a
sweater or sweatshirt of some kind. Frequently, Norman would disagree with my choice
and said that it did not go well, or that the top did not match the turtleneck. I turned to
him once and said, “Well, what do you think?” Norman said, “I am not a fashion expert,
but maybe something in yellow. You work here, you should know this.” I rummaged
through the closet and found the one yellow sweatshirt she had just worn two days ago
and slipped it over her head. Whenever Norman disagreed with the caregiver’s clothing
choice, he would often offer up his usual, “Don’t look at me. Pick out what you think is
best that will make her pretty. I’m just an innocent bystander here.”
As we lowered Lana into the wheelchair, Norman got up from the couch and inspected
her position. He wanted her to be right up against the back of the chair, and if she wasn’t
he would have us lift her up again and re-position her. Additionally, he often complained
that her pants were riding up too high. With sweat in my eyes and half squinting, I
huddled over her wheelchair and adjusted her pants while she was still sitting down.
Lana often had tears in her eyes, especially when Norman was combative with the
caregivers. She would often say to us, “I wish I was better.” One caregiver told me that
she still didn’t know exactly what Lana suffered from, but thought it was some kind of
neurological disorder that came up rather unexpectedly. To add insult to injury, Lana
contracted a stomach virus one day, which meant that her bowel movements were
extremely pungent. We were required to bring in two large red wastebaskets with biohazard
signs written all over the bags and bin, but Norman was not happy with this and
denied that she had anything. He pleaded with the nurse, but the bins were not removed.
The head nurse never commented or gossiped about Lana and Norman. She commented
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