Springtime Field Trip at the Nursing Home

My Mom is in a nursing home. I have put off sharing because it is tough to talk about it.

Put yourself in her shoes. Ninety some years of age. Imagine the sense of loss, of dislocation, because your husband of over 50 years has passed, you have outlived a son, your home is now just a memory in a photo album, your heart still beats and chocolate pudding is one of the few things you recognize on your dinner tray.

Imagine:

...That you have not felt the touch of sunshine on your skin in over a year, in part because your meds have made you light sensitive.
...One of the first things that your caregivers did was take away your hearing aid so it did not get lost, and then your glasses, because you spend so much time in bed.
...Your partial bridge is missing and no one can account for it. When trying to replace it, the dentist exclaims, "No one makes a Maryland bridge anymore!"
...You tried to get up to go to the bathroom, like you did at breakfast, but this time an attendant rushes into the room and yells,"Don't you ever try that again! You are not to get up out of bed by yourself." And then puts up the bed rails with the result that you become incontinent.

These are, generally speaking, how you become oriented to the ebb and flow of a nursing home. Heck, how are you supposed to watch TV or respond to someone coming into the room? Not surprisingly, you hear the comment, "She doesn't seem to respond to visitors so she must have sundowners."

It seemed to me that any resident protests or complaints were disregarded by staff once a diagnosis of "dementia" was in the record. This is where I became involved. Mom and I had experiences with many doctors, three hospitals, and five rehabilitation/nursing home facilities since the time she first found herself hospitalized and I can tell you that the elderly do need advocates.

Back in 2005, my Mom drove herself nearly twenty miles to her regular doctor's appointment. He picked up on something serious enough to admit her to the hospital, called us to let us know what was going on, and she never saw her home again. Now that takes courage.

Eventually we found that Mercer County had more services that rural western New Jersey, so we managed to find her a place in the Trenton area. Her first nursing home had been perched on top of a rural mountain, twenty minutes from emergency care, so it was not too hard to justify the decision to move her here. One of her nurses later confided to me that Mom cried herself to sleep every night. That almost broke my heart.

Presently she is in residence at the Millhouse in Trenton. At first glance, the immense brick old mill building seems imposing. But, as we found out, the care and caring of the staff and administration is like macaroni and cheese on a cold winter night...warm, wholesome and satisfying.

The older style of building must have resonated with my Mom because she seems to be more relaxed in her surroundings. For my part, I welcomed the Staff's ready answers to my questions, the down to earth approach to my Mom's care. I think I relaxed more too.

Being out of the mainstream of regular city life might be boring for someone living as a shut in, but the Millhouse has found several solutions to this. I visited with my Mom during some of the church programs...complete with drums, horns and keyboard. Baptists came with greeters who lavished attention and hugs on residents and real affection flowed through the hall bringing tears to my eyes. My Methodist Mom does not miss any church services and has even taken communion from the Roman Catholics. I think there is a splendid ecumenical lesson here, because she has become superbly tolerant in her old age.

Residents drift outside for smoking privileges at the front stoop, but for the most part are engaged in activities inside the building. Regularly Millhouse schedules shopping or field trips to engage those who physically up to it. Everyone is still talking about one of these recent outings.

Last Thursday, some of the Millhouse residents and staff visited the Golden Corral. Not only was it a trip out but it was also dinner out. A change of scenery does wonders for the appetite.

Residents were enjoying themselves hugely at their meal, when suddenly they were approached by a fellow diner. From his hesitant demeanor, some folks thought he might have physical issues himself.

Nontheless, he reached out to them. He chatted for a bit and then asked what was going on. You know when you are having a heck of a good time, it can be contagious.

After they explained what they were doing and answered his questions, he seemed impressed by the "fun time". Then, to everyone's surprise, he donated a one hundred dollar gift card to the group!

No kidding. People like that just make you smile.

People rock!