Living In a Nursing Home

I became a resident of a nursing home in the last week of April 2007 and was shocked at the difference between my expectations and reality.  I had seen my room-to-be and the space that would be allotted to me which consisted of approximately 10x10 feet.  When I packed my bag with my personal belongings, I was careful to follow the guidelines suggested by the facility.  Five to seven changes of seasonal clothes, no aerosol anything, nothing with alcohol, (mouthwash), and no valuables including cash.  I have never been in jail before but I felt as if that was where I must be going.

When I moved in, I was allowed to arrange my space anyway to please me and encouraged to hang pictures on the walls.  By the time it was finished, my tiny space resembled something I might actually live in.  Much to my surprise, somebody (unknown to me) recommended that I should have an electric bed.  This is an item that everyone wants and very few get, so I was shocked when a new electric bed was rolled into my room.  Three days latter, this new bed was replaced with another new electric bed that had even more functions.  A few days pasted and a trapeze was installed to enhance the new bed.

I had been working with the in-house physical therapist to gain strength but now had the equipment necessary to start working toward my goal of being more independent.  Two months of hard work, equipment modifications, and some dumb luck, the therapist had me able to transfer into and out of bed independently.  Another month and I could use the bathroom and dress myself without assistance except for leg braces, socks, and shoes.  Of coarse I still use my wheelchair as my only means of transportation.

Until now, I had been enamored with this facility.  It was unlike the nursing homes I had heard about where the residents were abused, neglected, or both.  Now however, things were starting to change and unfortunately not for the better.  I started to notice a shortage of staff and was unable to get assistance in a timely manner.  Before long, at times I was unable to get help at all.

 I believe it is necessary, for the reader's understanding, to explain who the residents of a nursing home truly depend on for their everyday---everything.

Example

When a resident needs or wants:

• Get into or out of bed – CNA


• All bathroom needs - CNA


• Showers/Bathing - CNA


• Assistance eating - CNA


• Getting dressed or undressed – CNA


• Drop something on the floor – CNA


• A person to smile and say hello – CNA

The average resident seldom sees the office staff and never asks or receives personal assistance from them.  Not that they are not important; they certainly are.  But not to the resident who is waiting for some type of help with their daily living.

For some reason, unknown to me, most of the CNA staff were gone.  I can only guess, (and using the rumors I heard), I believe these people quit.  It is not unusual for people to quit a job, but when that job directly affects the quality of life for many frail people, one would think that position would be filled quickly.  Unfortunately, this did not happen and the residents paid the price by doing without proper care.  This situation did not improve for nearly a month, and then someone reported it to the proper authorities.

Ok, now this part is hearsay, rumors, and gossip:

Someone from the state paid this facility a surprise visit at night, 2^nd or 3^rd shift and found only two CNAs in the entire building.  State regulations require no less than eight CNAs per shift in this particular nursing home.  It is my understanding that the number of CNAs required, is based on the number of residents.  I was told that this facility was fined $10,000 and given a short time to fix the problem.

Regardless of the reason, there were suddenly several new faces in the CNA staff and people are again getting what they need.  This would be a wonderful happy ending but it does not stop here.  My "perfect" roommate woke-up.  He had slept about 95% of the time, and never left the room for anything, except when the staff forced him to take a shower.  We were sociable with one another and I thought we had a friendship of sorts.

On a Friday night he couldn't sleep so he turned all lights in the room on, including the bright examination light over my bed.  (He had control of master switch)  As though that was not enough, his TV was also on at full volume that woke people in rooms quite far away.  I called the CNA in two times and both times he literally ran her away, so the nurse on that shift came in to settle him down.  He ran her away too, and I couldn't understand the staff running away.  Who is supposed to keep the peace?  At 4:00AM I gave up and left the room.

Saturday was pure hell.  His behavior continued to get worse and I was struggling to control my temper.  I tried to stay away from my room, but when I needed to go there, it was a vulgar shouting match until I left again.  I told the nurse on that shift to settle him down but he ran her off too.  At my bedtime Saturday night, I went to my room and prepared for bed.  I did not speak to him at all and called for the CNA to turn off my light, turn his TV volume down to a reasonable level, and ask him nice to let me sleep.  She did this and then ran away from a cussing the same as before.  When she was gone, he got up and started to turn the volume back up.  It was obvious to me that the staff could not or would not keep the peace, so I would have to do it myself.  Besides, I had lost most of the control of my temper and didn't really care much anymore.  Using my power wheelchair I physically put him in his bed by forcing him to back-up until he had no place else to go.  (I did not harm him)  While the fear was fresh in his mind, I dared him to get up and threatened bodily harm if he did.

I slept lightly that night and every night after that.  Every day was the same; he cussed me and everyone that came into the room but he didn't get out of his bed.  The stress level was through the roof and I developed medical problems causing the need for extra medications.  This "being sicker" was something I didn't want or need and helped to keep my anger on the edge. 

The "powers that be" first said that I would be moving into a different room, but it never happened.  They had numerous meetings over the next few days about what should be done, but nothing was done.  Meanwhile, my roommate continued to cuss, rant, rave, scream, and yell at me or anyone that entered the room.  It felt to me as if the "powers" were in no hurry and thought maybe the problem would somehow just go away. 

The following Saturday night, eight days after it started, my roommate waited until after I had gone to bed and then started throwing things at me.  (FYI - the reader needs to understand that I am able to transfer from the bed to my wheelchair independently by using the proper equipment.  But, even if I hurry and struggle, it is still a ten minute procedure.)  When he started throwing things, I screamed in anger, pushed the help button, and started the slow process of getting up.  Before I had a good start on my way up, the CNA came in, so I screamed at her in anger.  This bad behavior on my part got her attention because I had never raised my voice before.  I told her that I was getting up for the sole purpose of hurting my roommate, but I screamed it in anger and with vulgarity.  She ran from the room to get help.  While she was gone, I completed the process of getting into my wheelchair and was almost within reach of my roommate.  My temper was completely out of control now and I wanted to hurt the person that had made my life hell for a week.  Fortunately for all, the CNA returned with enough help to stop me before I could physically touch him.  I made it clear that if we remained in the same room I would hurt him.  At this point the CNA did what the "powers" could not figure out how to do.  She simply moved him to an empty room---problem solved.

A few days of peace, quiet, and rest allowed me the chance to wonder why my ex-roommate had acted that way.  I tried very hard to remember the days leading up to the incident expecting to discover that I had said or done something to provoke him.  Although I made an honest effort, I was unable to remember anything I said/did or anything that might have been misunderstood.  This bothered me until I went to one of the "powers" and asked why this had happened.  I was told, (in confidence), that my ex-roommate had mental problems and that he had refused his medication for several days prior to the start of the problem.  I was told the facility could not force him to take his medication and the law prohibits telling me about his condition.

Ok, I do understand the need for keeping medical things private, but if they knew this type of behavior was coming, why did I have to live with it. 

For now, I think everything is as good as it can be.  I have learned that even as corny as it might sound, it is unfortunately very true: "The squeaky wheel gets the grease."  A person cannot sit back and try to be a nice guy in this type of environment.  It is necessary to yell and demand that you get the things you need.  Although there is enough staff, I still have trouble getting my needs met and I wonder about the people who cannot yell.

John Braswell