It is always bad to check into a place like that on a holiday weekend. ?They were short staffed and the staff working the holiday weekend were short tempered.
They put mom in a bed that was too small and kept her sore left foot pressing against the foot of the bed. ?The mattress was hard compared to the air mattress we had at home, and she immediately developed pressure sores. ?She was in constant pain and discomfort, and after one day on this uncomfortable contraption she developed bed sores. ?After I had worked so hard at home to bandage and treat and heal the bedsore she got at another facility in a previous year! I was beside myself with anger. ?But they claimed they couldn't get her a better bed until January 2 because of the holiday. ?And because of the holiday staffing, there were no administrators around.
I got into a heated argument with her nurse, who did not want to let me stay to ring in the New Year with mom. ?He said the only people who could stay past visiting hours were those providing comfort care. ?I said that was what I was doing. ?He said comfort care was only authorized for people who were close to death. ?Little did he know.
Then he accused me of being the one who caused my mother's bedsores! ?As if I would even know how to do such a thing! ?When I was the one who healed the bedsores she inevitably got in the hospital when there was no one to turn her regularly and no way for her to call for a nurse or an aide to turn her when she felt the pressure sores developing! ?She said she was hurting and asked me to turn her over, and when I did I saw the blood and the torn skin. He said bedsores could not develop that fast, and at that time I did not have the expertise I have now to answer him back with confidence. ?All I knew was that I had not done it. ?Later he claimed she had bedsores when she arrived. ?Then why weren't they bandaged during the intake examination? ?I knew I had him there.
The critical moment came when I said my mother was in pain and my presence was helping her cope and I did not want her to be subjected to listening to this argument. ?Then I looked over at her, all squnched up in the too small bed on the hard mattress, too weak to pull the call cord and unable to reach the phone, and her eyes pleaded with me. ?But I could not tell what they were saying. ?Was it: ?"Don't fight, baby. ?Don't cause trouble. ?They might take it out on me after you are gone." ?Or was it "I'm so glad my baby is fighting so hard to stay here with me. ?I am so lonely lying in this room in pain for hour after hour with no relief and no way to call for help and when she is here she makes me feel better."
I finally told him that if he wanted me to leave he would have to have me arrested. ?That nothing was going to stop me from spending that New Year's Eve with my mom when for all I knew it could be her last. ?Then I called a friend and put my phone on speaker so that she could hear what I said to him, and so that she could hear him yelling at me and accusing me of interfering with the staff and causing my mother more pain by staying with her. ?I was furious, but I had already learned that documentation is the best defense. ?Talking to my friend calmed me down as she reassured me that he sounded out of control and that I was being reasonable. I told her I might have to put her on the phone with the police if it came to that.
Fortunately he came to his senses. ?He looked at me and realized I was not someone he wanted to mess with. ?I'm a gentle person, but when I am defending someone who cannot defend herself I become an angry mama bear. ?And my mom was more like my child than my mom at that point?dependent on me for so much and looking to me to be her advocate and protector in so many ways.
The next day my mom was semi-comatose. ?I was with her for hours and she would not rouse, and she ate and drank nothing the whole time I was there. ?I had only planned a short visit but ended up spending most of the day there because I was so concerned. ?I called a close friend who is a nurse and asked her to come sit with me for a while. ?The place was short staffed because of the holiday and the whole time I was there no one came in to turn her or check on her except to give her meds. ?They brought in lunch, set the tray where she could not reach it even if she had been awake, then after a few minutes a different person would come and take the untouched tray. ?The same thing happened at dinner, as if there was nothing wrong with her going several meals without eating or waking up. ?I asked if she had eaten breakfast and no one seemed to know for sure. ?One aide said yes, another said no, and one CNA claimed she had drunk a carton of milk for breakfast, but my mother has always hated milk and was lactose intolerant.
Of course I feared that the bad nurse had done something. ?
When everyone came back on Tuesday I got action by complaining to the supervisor, who said that I should have called her emergency number over the weekend if I was so dissatisfied with mom's care. ?I said that all the staff kept telling me was that no one was available until Tuesday and they obviously did not volunteer the information that there was an emergency contact number I could call. ?When the regular staff came back on they could see right away that something was terribly wrong. ?I spent the whole morning trying to transfer her to another skilled nursing facility, but she ended up having to go back to the hospital because her blood pressure was so low.
"I'm getting you out of this place mommy" I whispered over and over again as they wheeled her out to the ambulance, knowing that people can sometimes still hear when they are in a semi-comatose state. ?"You'll never have to come back here again. ?We are going to the hospital first. ?But I will make sure you never have to come back here again."
That place had been highly recommended. ?Her primary care physician was one of the directors of the place. ?A friend at church had said her family member got good treatment there. ?Every experience is unique.
It did turn out to be my mom's last New Year's. ?She died six weeks later, after having spent most of the last six weeks in terrible pain from bedsores that she did not have when she checked into that facility.
I still cry when I go past that place. ?I still have dreams of filing an official complaint against them. ?I still have dreams of filing an official complaint against that nurse.
And I have worse stories than this that I cannot bear to put into print.
For some reason this holiday season was full of these awful memories. ?It seemed like the worst of the worst just kept coming up. ?And there were other deaths around me: sweet elderly members of my church, parents of my friends, community figures who were about my age. ?I was surrounded by death and it got to me. ?I felt I was backsliding into serious grief-related depression.
Fortunately, it lifted. ?Maybe part of it was triggered by the calendar and just getting past the January 1 date was enough.
But I also helped myself turn the page. ?I scheduled an appointment with my old grief counselor and my new self-care therapist on the same day. ?I turned up the heat in my apartment so that I could at least be physically comfortable. ?And I kept up my mantra that has gotten me past other episodes of backtrack grieving:
She's not in pain any more.I don't know why I share all this tonight except that this is the grief issue that has been on my mind since the week before Christmas, and it is only just now starting to lift, and I knew that writing about it here would help me, as it always has.I did the best I could.
Whenever she was in a bad place, I did everything I could to get her out and or bring her home.
She always knew that no matter how bad things were, that I would eventually show up and hear her side and take her side, and that was more than a lot of those lonely neglected people in the nursing facilities had to look forward to.
She loved me.
It's over.
She's not in pain any more. ?She's not suffering any more.
I hope it has some value to the rest of the community, or if not, that you feel free to write whatever is on your mind.
I had been doing very well for a very long time and then had a really bad setback. ?I had even stopped coming here because I did not think people wanted to hear about how well I was doing when their grief was raw and new.
But one reason I agreed to take over the admin duties for this series is that I reminded myself it can also help for people to know that it does get better. ?They could read my past diaries when things were at their worst and see my progress in climbing out of what once seemed like an unconquerable black hole of grief.
And maybe it will also help someone to know that, after doing so well for so long, I had a major setback, and felt drawn to TGR more than ever.
Last but not least, I have learned some coping skills in these last few years that may also help someone. ?I have therapists and counselors I trust. ?I made myself schedule appointments with them even when I was isolating from everyone else around me and not calling friends and not answering my phone. ?But I made those appointments and kept them. ?And they helped.
I also kept redirecting my thoughts away from dwelling on the worst of it. ?Kept bringing myself back to the present moment no matter how strongly I felt emotionally fixated on December 31, 2006. ?I even learned some practical refocusing exercises that I can share with anyone who is interested.
Most important of all, I told myself over and over: ?this is temporary. ?This is just a bad phase in the cycle because of holiday blues and loneliness, the dates on the calendar, the cold weather I hate, and the short dark days messing with my need for sunlight. ?And I knew that all four of those things would pass eventually, so that no matter how bad I felt it was not forever. I knew the January thaw was coming. ?I knew the days were getting longer. ?I got past the date on the calendar. ?I survived the holidays. ?And the next time these memories come they will be one year farther back in the past, one year more healed, and I will be one year better at dealing with them.
Short dark days. ?The dark days of my grief these last few weeks were very very dark. ?But, thankfully, also very short.
Source: http://www.dailykos.com/story/2013/01/07/1177152/-The-Grieving-Room-Short-dark-days
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