My mother was worried that Aunt Millie, her sister, might not adjust to the change.
She is a real sweetheart - a simple soul.
Arriving unannounced, as soon as I walked through the door, she knew who I was and called out my name.
A big hug and a kiss later, I guided her wheelchair back up to her room so we could have some private time to visit.
The nursing home is an older home in an established neighborhood. Nice big yard. Meals are provided. My aunt's Canadian pension covers everything - with a little left over for essentials and the occasional splurge. My husband looked at the photos of the home and told me he wished his brother had a nice place like that to stay in his final days.
Nurse that I am, I snooped around the place a bit.
The bathrooms are spacious and very clean. No "hospital" smells about. It just seems like a regular home - except it isn't.
I peeked in a few rooms - they all seem to be about the same, with two single "hospital style" beds in each room. You know, the old kind that I haven't seen since the '70s with the handles at the foot of the bed that you have to crank the head or foot up or down.
Aunt Millie can't walk anymore, so I wheeled her around. I tried to get her to stand, at least - to see how she manages. Very unsteady.
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| My aunt in the hallway |
I went through some exercises she could do while sitting in her wheelchair. Then she asked me:
" Am I going to get worse?"
What could I say? It didn't look good. I doubt that they have any aggressive physio programs at this place. Even if they did - there is only so much muscle tone she will regain.
After all, she is over 80 years old. But - her father did live to 100.
All I could do is sit there and try and hide the tear trickling down my cheek.
She didn't seem to notice.
Her Psalter Hymn book was lying on her bedside table and I picked it up. Together we sang some of her old favorite hymns - some I hadn't sang for decades. The sound of Her warbling voice singing those songs of old with such a conviction seared my heart. It was all I could do to get to the end of the chorus.
I admire this lady. She has struggled with schizophrenia for the last 55 years.
She was committed to Riverview - at that time a horrible institution. She said she hated it there because she said the food made her sick. Matter-of-factly she told of the insulin administered to put her into seizures** - the current treatment back then. Multiple ECTs followed.
I remember my Mom telling me that she had almost died once.
Then all the medications, the extrapyramidal side effects from her antipsychotics. The psychotic episodes when the medications didn't work. The torment of having schizophrenia.
Through it all, she kept her faith.
She never did have those outrageous religious ideations that some get with the psychotic episodes.
She still has her worries. Her heartaches. She still misses her mom and pop - although they have been gone for 25 and 18 years respectively.
As I left her at the door, I gave her another hug and kiss.
"I pray for you every night " she whispered in my ear.
I am humbled.
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*Millie = not her real name
**Recent articles about insulin coma treatment have attempted to explain why it was given such uncritical acceptance. In the United States Deborah Doroshow writes that insulin coma therapy secured its foothold in psychiatry not because of scientific evidence or knowledge of any mechanism of therapeutic action, but due to the impressions it made on the minds of the medical practitioners within the local world in which it was administered and the dramatic recoveries they saw in some patients. Today, she writes, those who were involved are often ashamed, recalling it as unscientific and inhumane. Administering insulin coma therapy made psychiatry seem a more legitimately medical field. Harold Bourne, who questioned the treatment at the time, is quoted: "It meant that psychiatrists had something to do. It made them feel like real doctors instead of just institutional attendants". wikipedia excerpt per link
3 comments:
My first job, 16 to 21 yrs old, was working in a CBRF home(community based residential facility) I took care of Alzheimer and Mental challenged Seniors. I can say this much about my time with them, I have never learned so much about life than I did in the 5 years I worked with them. As a young person when everyone of my friends were out living it up, I was at the home, even on my off days soaking up what ever knowledge they gave me. I donated every moment I had with them but I felt and still do today that they donated their time to me! I know how to cook today because the little old ladies taught me(we were to make all of their food). They would come in the kitchen and teach me how to cook with out using measurements. To this day I dont own a measuring cup...lol I learned about all the history of our town from the Alzheimer patients. They lived in the past and I was able to go with them on their journeys. The patients with mental disablitlies taught me how to be patient and kind. The one woman who they deemed a "dangerous schizophrenic" taught me how to sew and sneak a smoke without people knowing...hehe Even after I left and went on to school, I still came back and spent time with them and they always remembered who I was. I am very honored to have been with some of them when they took their last breath.
I love this post about your Aunt Millie..... May she be granted peace and serenity in her new home...Ameen!
I just finished reading "Recessional" by James A. Michener. It's a story of seniors in a retirement home and their ups and downs as they grow older. An enlightening read even though I spent a number of years working as a nurse in a "nursing home".
Then this your post showed up in my reader today. Thank you for sharing this story about your Aunt. It's so touching. I hope she fares well.
Daisy: You were certainly blessed to have spent so much time with the elderly when you were younger. I did too...with my first nursing job...and I loved it. I still remember some of them! :) Thanks for your wishes of peace for her......
PhD:I am going to have to read that book. When we are younger we don't really think about what we will go through when we get older. We tend to think "that won't be me".... yet there they all are in all those care homes... they used to be young and I am sure that they thought the same as me.... Thanks for your kind words...
schizophrenia and all the accompanying treatments have ravaged her to the point where everything is simplistic to her....yet her heart is still so thoughtful and kind.
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