The idea for my latest WIP, a story about an aged African-American woman living in a nursing home, originated back in the Seventies when I was hired as a nurse’s aide for my first job in a place one-hundred-twenty-two people called home. The ages of the permanent residents ranged from a heartbreaking low of twenty-five all the way to a torturous one-hundred-five. These facts alone speak to the tremendous sadness I witnessed and experienced in the three years I worked there.
I promised myself to one day capture it all in story form – to both honor the wonderful souls that shared their last days on earth with me and to in some way provide a lasting testament to their courage, their memories and their tears.
Why now? Why after all these years? Well, it was the promise I made, but it’s also due to my now being a student in this ‘Facts of Life” special class that we baby boomers are sooner or later faced with as our parents’ health begins to fail. We become the ones they must look to for the remaining answers in their lives.
My eighty-two-year-old widowed mother had a massive stroke a few months ago which left one side of her body completely paralyzed. She needs therapy and assistance with everything from dressing to personal hygiene on a 24/7 basis.
Facts of Life 101- Lesson 1: If a person doesn’t die suddenly by either accident or injury, chances are they will need to be looked after in their old age. It really just comes down to the luck of the draw.
After my mother had her stroke (drawing the lowest card in the deck you could say), one of my sisters tried taking care of her at home for a long time, but our family realized the arrangement was slowly killing both of them. We then searched for a home that met our “but she’s our mother” standards and found one that just brushed the ceiling of what she could afford.
Facts of Life 101- Lesson 2: Round-the-clock in-home caregiver service starts at $20 per hour ($14,400 a month), very basic nursing home care runs around $3500 a month and top-of-the-line assisted living care in a resort-like atmosphere can pass the $10,000 a month mark.
So now my mother resides in a place very much like the one I worked in thirty-some-odd years ago. Oh, it’s lovely from the outside, with its grand porch and classic Adirondack chairs waiting to welcome guests. Stately old trees offer respite from the afternoon sun and the expansive green lawn provides a heart-healthy meal to all the happily romping bunnies scattered about the grounds. One might even go so far as to call it picturesque. That is until you go inside.
Rooms of people just sitting…and waiting…and waiting some more. The sick, the aged, the lonely. The ones lost in the throes of dementia. The ones that never have visitors. The poverty-level wages and lack of training that gives rise to the under staffing and neglect challenges the character and caliber of the people that manage to maintain their dignity in spite of it all.
This is my work in progress.