Retirement home LipDub

If you are tired of all those University LipDubs.....here is a switch for you.

Now I know what I have coming in a few years......



A Retirement Community in Grand Rapids Michigan. I will have to forward this on to my friend Michael....

Just to start the morning right....

A Care home Visit Today

Today I made a trip to visit my elderly Aunt Millie* who had been transferred from her group home to a nursing home.  She is no longer able to mobilize, and finally, after a fall at the home - was moved out to the "new place".

My mother was worried that Aunt Millie, her sister, might not adjust to the change.

Aunt Millie had never married, and she relies on the rest of the family - her brother and sisters -  to deal with the arrangements of her care.

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. 

My aunt in the hallway

I realized she won't be using her walker anymore, but she still asked where it was. 

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.

************************************

*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

RETIREMENT LIVING

Retirement can be a frightening thing for many people. What do you do when you finally get to that age where you retire and find you can't afford a place to stay never mind the expenses of daily living?

One of my first jobs as a nurse was the Extended Care Unit. I loved those old people as much as the babies I looked after later on in my career. There were some great stories to be told by "very experienced adults", as I like to call them.

So, it wasn't a stretch when five years ago, I became involved in a non-profit society that provides inexpensive housing for seniors.

I volunteer my time, sitting on the Board of Directors for a Non Profit Society that owns and operates 10 apartment buildings in the Vancouver/Victoria area. The "Lower Mainland" as this area is known, has some of the most expensive real estate in Canada and also one of the most expensive places to live in Canada. Unfortunately, if you are elderly, living in this area is not affordable, unless you have done some long term financial planning.

Anyone 55+ with a limited income can apply to live in our Society's apartments - some are independent living and some independent with services such as meals, laundry etc. Rents start in the $475 per month range for a studio apartment, which, in an area whose rents in a similar apartment start at double that, fills a niche that is in high demand. This shows by the length of our waiting lists.

As our population ages, there is an increasing need for Supportive Retirement Living and I am happy to serve in this small way, providing a service for the needs of the elderly.

So, today I am driving to Vancouver for our AGM. I won't be posting for a few days. Meanwhile, here is one of our buildings. It has fantastic views over the Pacific ocean. Definitely somewhere I would LOVE to live......eventually.

Maybe I could apply? :)

Extended Care LPN

My first job as an LPN was working in extended care. I was, what...22?

It was the only job I could get at the hospital I did my training in. The old folks there mostly didn't do much anymore - save the bingo games or the “art” classes, some OT - but there were sure a lot there that had lived a full life. I could tell by the photos and the stories....and opinions.

I still can picture in my mind's eye- that little old lady with the thick brogue accent who told me the amazing story of how she immigrated to Canada with her Canadian Soldier husband after falling in love (apparently after turning down the proposal of Prince of Wales -later King Edward that abdicated for Wallis Simpson) and moved to the Great White North.

She told me (during her morning bath) that she had, at that point, no idea where babies came from and when she started getting morning sickness...she had NO IDEA she was pregnant – all she knew was that she was terribly sick and in the middle of nowhere.

She walked miles to get the help of her neighbour who recognized her symptoms immediately and had to break the news to her – “you’re going to have a baby!” I admired her fortitude - coming to a foreign land – not knowing anyone and then enduring all the hardships of living in Northern B.C.! Such a positive lady and - so happy. The stroke that confined her to her wheelchair didn't seem to dampen her interest in life and those around her.

In contrast, there was the sad old woman that reported different nurses for "not cleaning the bedpan out good enough" and verbally chastised me for singing while working - "Don't you know there are sick people here??" - nothing good to say, everything was awful and nothing anyone could do could please her. She couldn’t help with the wheelchair transfer in the least (many nurses hurt their backs on her – yet she was seen, on a pass to her old home, wandering about on her own) and made life miserable for everyone about her.

What a difference in attitude! By the way, I can talk about these 2 old ladies because
A. They are long dead and gone.
B. I have no clue what their names are.
C. I would guess their relatives don't remember their names either - 35 years after the fact. They were already really old back then.

How sad...to have lived and no one remembers you existed. The only thing worse is no one remembering you existed while you are alive.

Looking back on those days: all those 8 hour night shifts just making the rounds, turning every “resident” every 2 hours, changing and turning, wiping and draining catheters - then the day shift - one person transfers, taking down to dinner, making sure everyone was fed......what really stands out in my mind is all the fun we had.

I can remember phoning the local radio station to have the DJ make an announcement over the night time radio for the nurses on Night Duty to "wake up and do your rounds". The camaraderie was unique and fun. Fun, not just with the other nurses and staff.....but with all those "old people".... they really made an impression on me and I did care about each one.

Every single one of them had once been someone’s precious little girl or boy, growing up with brothers and sisters - experiencing the first day of school and growing up with their families, going to college or getting that first job, meeting the love of their lives (or not!) and having babies of their own - watching them grow up and leave the nest.....and gradually getting older.....and older.

It was so interesting hearing all the stories...all these "broken bodies" that once had a vibrant life, were young once and had – and still have - feelings.....and probably still felt no older than 18 inside their earthly body. They were once somebody's baby, somebody's lover, somebody's mommy and now somebody's Grammy.



I would always pause at the bulletin board by the head of their bed and look at all their yellowed and dog-eared photos their family posted ...a young man smiling - arm around a beautiful woman looking vaguely like the person in the bed.....a fragile sepia square with cracks criss-crossing the photo of a little family.... and you realise that these precious Old Ones went through life....just as we all are....experiencing life, love, laughter, sadness, tears ....dreams now part of that past - and now confined to an ECU....some with visitors, some not so many and some - none at all.

As a younger person I had no concept or thought that at that at some point I, too, would travel down that same road......and I felt a tug in my heart for those beautiful vibrant young people from years ago frozen in time on those old photos that were now, by life's circumstances, transformed into the withered figure in the bed..... and wonder at the change in fortunes that life dealt them....

Nursing in the ECU was the start of a real human experience for me. It brought into perspective not only the art of caring for people....not just physically but also as human beings - living souls.
I really did love every minute of it. But, after ten months – I wanted a change.

I wanted to know and learn more.

I transferred to Medical.

In my diary, my actual entry reads "Got the posting on Medical!! YIPEEEE!!!!"