Don't get lured by the soft-voiced phone advertisement of this place. The conditions in it are terrible: the wards are crammed - 3 people in each ward with only one bathroom to share, the distance between the beds is about 4'. I was shocked to learn that some patients had COVID on the ground floor, but the wards were all open - had no doors. My father was not sick. He was admitted for just 4 day respite care, but he was offered a middle bed in one of such wards, with two other bed-ridden patients. I regretted bringing him there the moment I saw it. The bed didn't have any mattress on it. I checked the bathroom. It looked dirty, as if it had not been cleaned for days. I had a thought that prison inmates must have better comfort and more privacy than the patients at this center. The personnel was rude and unprofessional. They were trying to reprimand me for their own failure to communicate with my father. One of the nurses said to me that he stank and repeated it several times. I was constantly called up and asked to translate, although I brought a set of duel-language cards (at least two were related to bathroom issues). On the second day my father was transferred to the second floor. I was told that he was walking the halls getting into the other patients' wards. I thought that it was expected from anybody who wasn't sick or crippled. He was not used to sharing rooms with strangers and was just trying to go for a walk or find a quiet room for himself. I tried to calm him down and explain to him that he should not wander around or bother other people. He said that he did not do anything bad. He just did not like staying inside the building all day, in the same room with sick people, because he was fine. Then I was informed that the police was summoned because there was an incident. I thought that my father might jump out of the second floor window trying to escape, but then I was told that he scared many people on the 2-nd floor... When the police came, I tried to explain to them that my father did not mean to harm anybody and I asked the officer, "Why did this place agree to admit my father if it could not handle him or could not offer the proper care for him? Is it his fault? Whose fault is that? Our case manager's? Call her!" Next day my husband and I were on pins and needles all day. It was the third day of our vacation. And just as the other two days, it did not start well. In the middle of the night, between12:00 to 4:00 a. m. we received about ten phone calls from the center. We were told that the police was coming again, and my father was to be transferred to the Regional Hospital in Vineland. They said that he needed an evaluation. They called us again and again interrupting our sleep asking me to translate for my father and the police officers, who were trying to convince him to lie down on stretches. But he did not understand why he had to go to another hospital and why he had to go there on stretches when he could walk to the car himself. When the last phone call came, while my father was leaving the place, I heard roaring laughter of the center's personnel celebrating my father's departure. We did not sleep all night after that and were ready to drive back home from Kentucky without waiting till our tomorrow flights. When we were taking my father home from the hospital the next day, he was calm, but very sad. He was transferred there without his medicine or any belongings. When we entered the room, he was lying on the bed all hunched up covering himself over the body and the head with a thin blanket. He wore a thin hospital gown and a pair of hospital socks, nothing else (no underwear). He lay there motionless. I said, "Dad, it's over. We are taking you home." But he did not even move, just mumbled, "Maybe you should let me stay here and die." The hospital nurse told me that she did not understand why he was brought in. He was not sick. He was calm and cooperative all the time. The doctor said that he did not need any evaluation because he behaved adequately: knew who he was, what his age was, etc. When my father was admitted to the Center, I was told that all his belongings would be marked, but when we came to pick them up a day after, only the socks had labels on them. There were other people's clothes in our backpacks, but some of my father's belongings were missing: two praying books, a brand new shirt, 3 towels, and a photo album with our family photographs, which were of great personal value to us. None of these items were returned to us. Nobody ever called us to give us an update on the lost items. After waiting for a month I decided to put up a complain. I hate complaining, but in this case I just can't help doing it. read more