I met Queen in the late 80s. She was in Camp Oakhurst with my daughter. My daughter has sickle cell. It’s been a lot for me. She had many hospitalizations. She is much better now. She has two kids. Queenie is friends with my daughter. She comes to barbecues and she came to my daughter’s baby shower.
I love what I do. I love that I can help the children that cannot help themselves. That makes me feel good. And they do appreciate what I do. Truly, they are my children, my sisters. I’ve been with Queenie and her two roommates for 20 years. I feel very close to them. Our relationship is quite good, I feel like they are part of my family.
When one of the women requests for me to go with her to the gynecologist on my day off, I say ok. The women don’t want someone new to watch them. They are embarrassed. If someone has a trip early in the morning, I spend the night in the residence, sometimes on my own time. On my days off I sometimes go shopping for them. I come in when my own kids are sick because I feel like I have a responsibility to them. I owe it to them. I feel like I have to be there. As long as there is transportation, I’ll be there.
The hardest part of my job is that we need more money. Our salaries are too low. I don’t have enough to pay my mortgage. I have to rent part of my house to complete the mortgage. I manage because I have overtime. When staff is out, I work overtime. Staff do leave because they can’t afford to stay. It happens. So many have left that I don’t even remember their names. They come and go, they come and go.
The pay is not enough. We need more money. We’re doing a lot. We do a good job, too. We should get more money than McDonalds’ workers. We do much more. We give medication. Medication is no joke. We have to bathe the women and dress them because some of them can’t do that for themselves. They wouldn’t survive without staff.
