Do Nursing Homes Disturb You?
Read more articles on Life's Nuances and Let Me Share With You.September 10, 2007
Posted by Karen Amato Schwartz
September 10, 2007
Posted by Karen Amato Schwartz
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Well, dear readers, I finally have the chance to update you, and of course my life’s happenings provide fodder for more writing here at the Compendium…
Last week my father was finally moved from the hospital to rehab for his knee surgery recuperation, and this time around we chose a skilled nursing facility. Hopefully, it will be just for a couple of weeks, since it’s something I don’t think he’s quite ready for, even at 80.
Now, my mother passed away at age 64 after just 3 months in a nursing home, so I’m not unaware of what they are like, but it’s a place that’s too easily forgotten. Returning to one brought home just what may eventually be in store for all of us.
This particular private home appears to be well run, with adequate nurses who are efficient and concerned, but I don’t believe anyone could ever really consider it “home”. The patients who are permanent residents must share rooms with one other person, and use the standard hospital bed. With limited space available, there is not much room for personal furniture, although I noticed one room had fit in a flat screen television and a small computer station. However, as in most places, the majority of personal possessions take the form of photographs, knickknacks, flower arrangements, and blankets.
If you’re like me, the thought of having to reduce the size of items which are important to you down to that which can fit into half of a hospital room is overwhelming. I suppose that after awhile, though, it can become comfortable and even comforting to be around others for meals and social activities, and the events calendar boasts many interesting offerings. My father said that the food is better than what the hospital served, so that’s encouraging.
Yesterday, at noon, the home was buzzing with the excitement of the upcoming televised Steeler game. Workers wore their sporting gear, and black and gold decorations were in abundance. Many patients-also with their fan colors-awaited the game in the social hall, and the atmosphere was lighthearted and jovial. It resembled any number of football parties, except that most of these fans were in wheelchairs.
That’s what gets me in the heart the most, although I don’t know why. When I walk down the hall and glance into rooms with so many bedridden seniors, I wish for them the opportunity to leave their beds for a short while, at least for a change of scenery. But, seeing the wheelchairs line the hallways, with so many of the patients immobile, breaks my heart. The idea of being “put” somewhere as an observer bothers me at this age in my life, but perhaps at 90, it won’t feel quite so restricting. It’s also one thing to acknowledge a patient and have them respond back, but it’s another to find that they can’t answer, or are fighting dementia. I give the nurses all the credit in the world for their patience.
In a nursing home, it’s very clear that people often regress back to young children, needing changed and transported and frequently attended to for basic needs. Hearing cries of anguish and seeing elderly patients clutch stuffed animals remind me that personal grief and loneliness need attended to as skillfully as any medical condition.
We must be grateful that such places exist. It’s hard to imagine living out our lives in any nursing home, but the reality is that many of us probably will. It’s where little things really do mean a lot, so if you know someone in a nursing home, think about paying them a visit soon.
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