On July 31, 2016, my mother passed away at Golden Living (formerly The Cedars) in Charlottesville…read more Since December 17, 2015, she had been in and out of the ER 5 times, in and out of the hospital 4 times, and in and out of Golden Living 4 times. At age 91, she was having a series of medical issues, including a couple of surgeries, and she needed care 24/7. As an only child, I found myself being the caregiver, and, knowing my own limitations in terms of being able to deal with everything, I made the decision to have her remain at Golden Living for her last several months, where she was also under hospice care. It was not in the cards for her to return to her home unless she had someone (preferably a registered nurse) on duty 24/7. That was cost prohibitive as well as opening a can of worms. My mother would never have trusted a stranger in her home.
Sometimes, as people age, they mellow out, and sometimes they become more difficult. My mother had always had a certain sense of independence, from family, from friends, from the world in general. She never wanted to socialize. She never wanted company. She had rather strict demands. In short, she was difficult, and she made no apologies for being that way.
How does any institution deal with someone like this? Are there miracle workers in the field of gerontology? Yes, I believe there are. Except for a couple of long weekends away from Charlottesville between December 17, 2015 and July 31, 2016, I made appearances at Golden Living at least twice a day and sometimes three and four times a day. For weeks, when my mother could eat a regular meal, I brought her breakfast: a Hardee's biscuit with double butter cut in half, and then I would bring from home a Roma tomato which I cut in quarters. That's what she wanted. That's what I brought to her. She eventually could no longer eat solid food, so I am sure the folks at Hardee's wondered what had happened to their standard order. Did my mother appreciate that I did what I did? Yes, on some level, but then she was never one to gush thanks.
So what about the miracle workers? At any institution there are people who have, so to speak, 9 to 5 mentality. They are there for the next paycheck. I can honestly say that I never encountered any people at Golden Living with 9 to 5 mentality. Over the course of seven months, I got to know many of the employees, from the people who swept the floor to the people in the kitchen to the aids to the nurses to the managers of different departments. Each and every time I encountered any of them, they were pleasant and smiling and cooperative and willing to do anything that needed to be done, and, with my mother, there was always something that needed to be done. My mother often would not ask a nurse or aid for help. She waited until I arrived so she could have me fetch what she needed. I would then seek out someone to help.
On many occasions I would arrive in her room to find a nurse or aid talking one-on-one to my mother and giving her encouragement. When my mother was not aware that I was there, I would hear her saying some things that could be taken in a very negative way by someone who was not trained in the field of gerontology. I would take things my mother said more personally than they would, and they would just say "she didn't mean it".
There are lots of options out there for facilities that deal with the elderly. I looked into several of those facilities. I knew my mother was not a "fit" for most of them, especially those that were state-of-the-art with rather rigid requirements for meals in the dining room, required exercises, etc. My mother wanted to stay in her room. She wanted things "just so". It took the miracle workers at Golden Living to deal with my mother in this most difficult time. The miracle workers at Golden Living had to deal with me as well, and I cannot thank them enough. I could hug several of the people at Golden Living without feeling embarrassed. I could cry on their shoulders when I needed to let it all out.
Thank you - the miracle workers of Golden Living - for all that you have done for my mother and for me. I will be forever grateful.
