Being a CNA, I am forever either explaining what CNA stands for (cute nursing assistant) or what we do. After explaining the basic and typical things I do, I normally get the response of "oh, you're just a glorified butt-wiper and babysitter."

Well, no. I am not.

Yes, it may be politically correct that I do the "butt wiping" of the elderly and I watch after them during my days on duty. And yes, I also bathe them, help them eat, and get dressed and basically do everything but breathe for them because of their disabilities, but that is only the textbook part of my job.

What many people don't know is that I sit with your father for an hour, begging him to let me shave him and help him get washed up because I know you're coming to see him. I know you will be there by three o'clock with his Chinese food and other things he likes. I gently remind him how happy you will be when you see him all shaved and cleaned up. And I remind him of how much better he will (hopefully) feel. I sit and help him work through the confusion of the fact I am there to help him, that he is safe, and that you know where to find him. Once I succeed, my heart dances with happiness and pride with how good he looks, and how happy you will be when you see him, and how your happiness will hopefully radiate to him and cheer him up and orient him a bit...just for you to scold me for accidentally missing a bit of shaving cream on his chin.

But that is okay.

I would be frustrated, too, based off of the stigma nursing aides working in nursing homes get.

I kiss your mom and say "I love you, good night" every night when I help her to bed. I tell her that I hope she has sweet dreams and that I will be back in the morning to get her up. To her this is comforting, being told every night that she is loved and that someone will be there to help her in the morning. I help her pick out her outfit for the next day and tuck her in and sing her a song just to be a goof. She laughs and loves it and sometimes she will sing along.

I hold your sister's hand while she is dying. I brush her hair, freshen her up, talk to her, and even sing to her while she is slowly coming to the end of her life. I tell her it's okay for her to let go, and that she is safe. I quietly advocate for her to make sure she gets pain medication if needed and that she is comfortable and has nothing she needs while the end is coming. I will spend my lunch break sitting with her so you and your family can go take a breath of air.

I am your grandmother's friend. I sit in front of her wheelchair helping her through her moments of complete frustration and disorientation. I hold her hand and smile and tell her she is safe and that I am going to be here for her all day. I smile even if she tries to hit me or spit; I calmly try to reorient her by asking her about her mom's famous chocolate cake. And when the moment is over, I give her a hug and paint her nails. I know so much about her life that I can reorient her by bringing up her children and grandchildren by name. I will play songs she likes on my phone, and I will try to learn every word to the song "New York" by Frank Sinatra and sing along with her...Just to learn Frank Sinatra was actually a bad guy who played with guns from another resident.

But, details. Who needs them?

So yes, I do wipe butts. To many people, I am just a glorified butt-wiper and babysitter.

But to me and to your families I am so much more. I am a friend, an alley, an advocate, and a hand to hold when they are afraid. Trust me, they are afraid, but do not want to tell you in fear of worrying you and that is okay. That is why I am here. I am a dance partner and partner in crime. I listen and understand.

I make a difference.

I am more.