How does it feel to have failed one's father, one's hero, the person who devoted his life to keeping you safe, to showing you that the most important part of life is your family?
It is a gut-wrenching pain that can never be fixed.
I have failed my father. I have allowed him to be spending his last days without dignity, unclean, mistreated, ignored, and regretting that he ever believed the words and promises of St. Ann's Community Center.
Please take a close look at this photo of my father when he was about your age. Does he look impeccable? Can you identify with this? You look impeccable in your photos. He looks about your age. Now fast forward and picture what I write below as happening to you.
Dying from Alzheimer's, he was recently moved from the Ranier Memory Center to Long Term Hospice in Webster. You helped facilitate that move for which I expressed my deep gratitude. After the abysmal care he received in the memory center, I felt confident that he was now in good hands.
Visiting him this week I found that was far from true. Upon arriving late on Friday evening, I found him sitting in the living room area, in his recliner, at an uncomfortable angle, his right eye oozing pus, in front of a blaring USA network show about young girls who were brought into prostitution via massage parlors, where they were describing in lurid detail how they were touched by the clients. Sitting comfortably against the back wall behind my father were three CNAs totally engrossed in the show. When I said hello two could barely grunt a response. I asked if someone could please get a warm wet facecloth and clean my father's eye. Since my father wold never watch this type of TV, I then suggested a golf channel. They changed the channel and then scattered. My father told me 'You would not believe what goes on..." I proceeded to turn the volume down, turn off the fluorescent lights shining in his eyes, to adjust him in the chair, and watch him fall asleep.
My mother, a resident relatively happy in the assisted living section, had complained to me recently that upon visiting my father on her daily schedule, she found him near the dining area slumped in his chair with a large, long, opaque drool from his mouth to his shirt. Because she suffers from Parkinson's, she is unable to do many things herself. She asked for help and was told in a very rude manner to wait. She did not wait, and confronted the CNA and demanded that he be cared for 'NOW'! She then observed that the other patients immediately looked timidly away. Later she was asked by one of them to 'please not rock the boat'. What does this say? To me it says volumes. These are patients without a voice.
I received a subsequent phone call about the fact that my father happily scoots around helping and then tires and slumps in his chair to rest. And he likes this. I guess he likes the drool all over himself, too.
Saturday morning I visited his room and found that once again, his clothes were dirty, smelly, and sloppily thrown, dirty, into the drawers (photos attached). He has expressed to my mother that 'Honey, I feel dirty.' This is a man who was always the best dressed, most impeccably groomed man I have ever met -- a man who could not stand to have anything disorganized or filthy.
My mother has asked that his teeth be brushed. You can see from the photo here that they have not been cleaned in quite some time. I have also included for you (enclosed) the mouldy basket where his toothbrush was kept, along with one of the many filthy shirts found tossed in the drawer for another day's wear. I went into the closet and found that all of his clothes smelled dirty. He said to me 'Mom and I would never have come here if we had known. I thought this place was top of the line...'
He needed to be taken to the bathroom several times that day. He was complaining of pain in his groin and had a terrible time communicating this. At one point in the afternoon, one CNA, Shifor (sp?) came in to help, removing her sunglasses only as she enter his room, mouthing 'Oh shit'.
Much later that evening I received a text telling me that his discomfort was from '...urinary retention. Once his bladder was emptied via Foley catheter he had total relief...'
his is a serious management problem AT THE TOP. Have you ever visited the patients, unannounced, put on some of those rubber gloves, and LOOKED IN THE ROOMS, the drawers, the bathrooms? Have you and your CEO ever monitored what is going on in the establishment where you sit at the top of the heap and collect the executive salaries and glory? Have you ever monitored the hiring practices to see that instead of the lowest common denominator you employ only people as CNAs and LPNs that respect the dying, who come from backgrounds where the elderly are valued, not uniformly discounted, who help the dying die with DIGNITY?
With unemployment figures what they are in Rochester you should easily be able to read more