Traditional nursing homes really DO suck

This has become my number one best seller, in my writing world anyway.  Maybe more people are waking up to the fact that at $1,500 a week for room and board, they are not getting what they pay for, at least their loved ones are not.

As long as the Medical Model is still practiced in traditional nursing homes, there is NO good quality of life for the people living there.  Living there is just another phrase for: being trapped there.  Yes, a traditional nursing home, touting the Medical Model will always, always, be run for the convenience of staff, and staff alone. 

 My son recently needed antibiotics, as I was reading the label, it started me thinking, again, about how staff dispense medicines in traditional nursing homes. Nowhere on my son's prescription did it state: Dispense however you please.  You can dispense in a group all at the same time, for staff convenience.  The label has specific instructions as to when and how the medicine should be taken.  The nursing home I once worked was willy-nilly about dispensing medicine at Every breakfast, to Every patient at the Same time daily.  This is not right, no matter how you slice it.  I once suggested maybe medicine cabinets in each room would be best.  I was told that anyone could then get the medicines.  Well there is a wonderful invention called a padlock to cure that.  Translation from nurses: "Well Then we'd actually Have to do our jobs properly and it might take time, effort and caring on our part."  You should not be surprised because given the human warehouses these places are, the let's herd old people like cattle, mentality of nursing homes, it makes sense.  To THEM anyway.

Another funny thing I noticed while working there, was the sole owner was older than dirt, himself.  For the most part he had Nothing nice to say about old people.  People who live in glass houses.  But since 'older than dirt owner' had money, HE didn't relate to those in his peer group.  Funny how that works.

This book Should be a good seller, especially to college Social Work classes because Social Work does not come from books.  Social Work comes from real life, real world experiences.  When I was about to graduate from college, many, many students said: "But college has Not taught me Everything I Need to know about this profession."  They were right, it cannot possibly teach you ALL you will need to know.  This book is a good teaching tool unless instructors are afraid the truths in this book will scare students.  It Should scare students because it should keep them on their toes.  It should teach them about human dignity.  It should teach them about old people being human too, not just cattle to herd and shuffle to activities, to showers resembling a car wash, to dispensing medicines all at once to everyone (contrary to label instructions), and to Stop bullshitting loved ones at care plan meetings.  Teach them that, while nurses Love to be head cheeses, they DO NOT know it all about your loved one.  YOU are That expert on that subject because you've known your loved one Longer than ANY staff.  Staff NEEDS to LEARN that nurse aids Should be invited to care plan meetings Because They Are the primary caregivers, NOT nurses who mostly push medications.  So I'm grateful this book has picked up with sales.  If Anyone Cares in our society, then the Truths in this book will be of concern to all. 

To those who have bought my book and read it, I thank you.  To those of you who have not, you Should as one day YOU Too will be old. 

Putting a face on poverty series

It's always amazing for me to read the posts every year for stop domestic violence.  I say this because, short of the courts placing abusers in jail for being the criminals they are, I always wonder: just how do you think you will stop domestic violence?  I can say this from first hand knowledge.  I lived with an abuser, we had five children and I know there will be those of you who will judge, because it's what you do best.  But judgement aside, are you swooping in to households to rescue the abused person, or people?  I laugh at this the most because not only will you, nor anyone else swoop in like some super hero, most in our society, including Social Services workers, will and do turn a blind eye to it.  Why do they do this?  Because no one really wants to get involved.  Most will make judgement calls galore, shaking their head saying: Stupid person, they should have left.

Far too many cops, especially in small towns, will be reluctant to even arrest the abusers.  I suspect this is due, partially, to the fact they are most often, white males and I suspect some of those cops are going home to abuse their own partners.  Domestic violence knows no boundaries no social boundaries, money boundaries, nor professional boundaries.  It happens often in homes you'd least suspect it to happen.

Let's address the 'should have left' part of this judgement call.  They should leave and go where?  I lived in a small town that supposedly had 'safe houses' but those are in the boonies.  Most abused women have no car to get supplies in town.  No car to find a job, no car for child care if she does find a job.  Abusers leave them with no money and no vehicles, it's the pattern of abuse, it's the control all abusers seek.  There are no shelters in small towns, no one in small towns wants shelters in town because small towns like to think this shit does not happen in their town.

I have five kids.  I called many landlords only to hear: "How many of you?  Oh no, that's too many."  So I wondered: OK. too many.  Which of the five kids should I give away in order to not be 'too many?'

I went to Social Services only to be given lectures, to be scolded at times, to be made to feel shame that I was abused.  Judgement is not their job, but they simply make it their job anyway. I was told I should get a HUD apartment, only to be told by landlords that 'five kids is too many.'  

You as the general public are not about to 'stop domestic violence' because even the abuser's own family will not recognize they are abusers.  I got no help from the abuser's family nor from my own family.  Some of them are the very ones who like to post the 'stop domestic violence' on their Facebook pages too.  Indeed!  Americans love to judge and it's usually the victim of abuse they like to judge the most.

When I finally did get help from Social Services, I was given food stamps only to then be judged by people in the grocery stores.  They liked to look in my cart to see what I was buying.  I usually bought the same items they bought, but somehow, they usually felt I was not entitled to buy the same foods because I suppose they felt using food stamps to feed my kids made the same food tainted.  Hell I'd often be judged and lectured by grocery store clerks who felt superior for some odd reason.  I even ran across one clerk who made it her personal business to make using food stamps as difficult as she could.  The world becomes 'food stamp cops' when all you want to do is feed your kids, just like those judges do.  People like to become Judge Dredd when you use stamps.  

Now domestic violence is one face of poverty.  So stop turning your heads in your neighborhood, stop judging and stop waving the 'stop domestic violence' banners if you know darn well it's no more than a slogan to you.







 

Thoughts during this silly season each year

My parents on their 50th anniversary

During this silly, crazy season, I always look at how far we've come and recently, some of it isn't good.  I know we all have thoughts about growing up, most of us have memories of when we were kids, how Christmas stands out in our memories, some good, some not so good.  I'm not unique in my memory transporting me back to Christmases gone by.

One big memory stands out at the time I turned 15.  The Vietnam War was raging in a place most of us never heard of before America became embroiled in a war in a far away land.  My mom was always an avid church goer, so we were expected to go to church each year on Christmas Eve.  I'm the youngest in my family, so at 15, I was the last kid left at home.  I was raised as a Presbyterian until the only Presbyterian church in our small town closed its doors because they could find no minister to take it over when ours retired.  So we became Methodists.  To this day I never got the connection, except the only other churches were Baptist (my mom felt they were too strict) and Catholic (my mother couldn't understand the sermons, given in Latin back then) so in her mind, the only logical alternative was to be a Methodist.  Don't ask me, I have no idea why either.  But my mom, rest her soul, wanted us to be God fearing kids is the only answer I can come up with.

Back to my fifteenth year.  We got dressed and attended a Christmas Eve sermon at the little Methodist church.  The minister started speaking about us being grateful for 'the season' count our blessings, blah, blah, blah.  Then he started saying we needed to bless our troops in Vietnam.  I thought: Why aren't we blessing the Vietnamese?  He said we should pray for an American victory to the war.  I raised my head as others prayed, looked around me and thought: I cannot do this anymore.  I didn't pray, I continued to watch the rest of the congregation and felt a surge of sadness and disgust envelop me.

When we got home and entered the living room where the Christmas tree sat, with presents under it, in our modest little house, I began to think of kids being bombed, their homes gone, about the poor in America, some not knowing where their next meal was coming from and I felt incredibly selfish looking at the presents.

I changed my clothes and politely told my mom I was not going to church anymore.  I told her I had no idea why a 'God of love' would be on America's side.  Didn't God love the Vietnamese people too?  She had no good explanation and neither did our minister, whom she had me talk to after the holiday.  Did I become atheist?  No, but I just could not believe in a god 'taking sides' like in a football game.

As I studied history I didn't think a 'god of love' would side with Europeans against American Indians, against slaves forced to come here nor against the Vietnamese just because we were Americans.  I had a major problem, always, with the people who spelled their last names right, in our small town, having prominent positions in each church we ever attended too.  So I became somewhat of a disbeliever.

I look around us today, I see people in stores hurting each other for a handful of cheap goods just because their kid wants the biggest, the latest or the nicest item to show off at school.  Seriously?  One time a year we need to give gifts to show we love our families?  How about the other 364 days? You don't resent giving a gift to a boss you cannot stand?  Getting a gift for a coworker you may not like?  Think about it.  Oh, I had nice holidays as a small child, but I had loving parents.  What about those kids who did not?

So I read on social network sites, crap like: "I didn't own slaves, I didn't kill American Indians, so how does history pertain to me?"  I got sick of that crap being spouted in college too.  How does it pertain to you?  Because we are repeating Vietnam right Now, in Iraq, in Afghanistan and probably soon, in Iran.  THAT's how it pertains to YOU.  You learned nothing because you don't read history.   

Have you ever?

 

Have you ever just wanted to tune out the world?

Have you ever just felt like this day is too full of chaos?

Have you ever just wanted to fast forward to the next?

Have you ever wanted to rewind life to a happier time?

 

Have you sat by the water, just been silent and listened?

Have you counted the ducks, listened to waves lapping?

See how peacefully ducks float on the water, few cares

 

Have you ever wondered why your family doesn't see your talent?

Ever wondered: "What's wrong with Them?"

Family should be love, not at all like this, like stormy seas, chaos

Family should accept you for who you are, not who They think you are

Ever wondered why family members poison each other, in the mind, in the spirit?

 

Parents are ill equipped to know how to parent

Their ineptness is quite apperent

Nothing lonelier than being in a group we call 'family'

Nothing lonelier than sharing a house and feeling alone

Some have beautiful memories of families in their place

Some have memories they would like to erase

Have you wished Mom and Dad were a mighty oak?

Instead, in the rainstorm of life we tend to get soaked 

Sometimes in our eyes, we get poked

Parents are human, how dare they?

But we know WE are grownups when we can say:

"It's OK, Mom, it's OK Dad, sometimes, just like me, you were good you were bad."

Life's too short to dwell on a past, the die already cast

Let's make up for it Now until we draw our last

 

Another Memorial Day finds us

Memorial Day finds us, another year older

Memorial Day finds us no less bolder

"A war to end all wars" once said

Why, since then, are so many more dead?

Do you want to really end wars?

Are you messing with our heads?

It's been: A war on British for freedom

A war on Indians for more land

A war in the South to end slavery

A World, both I and II to end aggression

Soldiers keep marching in succession

A war to end communism

Now a war to end terror

Somehow since 'to end all wars' there's occurred an error

This Memorial Day, the war skies are no fairer

People in America have no decent jobs

Around the world, people form protest mobs

Another soldier dies, another mother sobs

We talk about love

We know more about hate

Some young soldier, for prom, just wants a date

We love our kids, so we say

Yet we pack them off to war to die

Same old lies, just another day

To die for what?

For Coke and Pepsi to get a foothold?

It's no reason to die, if I might be so bold

Sending kids to their deaths

We knew we always could

Do we ever ask if we should?

Wars are a rich person's game

Different day, the lies remain the same

Stop that war, we think someone should

But would you stop a war if you could?

The military: Go to war, my Son, or Daughter, you should

They will pay you badly, morn your death, sadly

On Memorial Day, we honor with our lips

Yet another war plan, corporations pull from their hips

I long so to hear from those who "should go"

"This new war?  No thanks.  This time I will skip"

Memorial Day finds us another year older

When it comes to war, still no less bolder

I hope you find something better to do than become a soldier

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When I was being trained as an Activity Director at a nursing home owned by a large corporation, we had to get up at five in the morning during senior games time.  The reason for this early rising was because this place I worked for was providing food for the big corporate meeting for the games.

Now the senior games (the senior Olympics of sort) may be a nice thing but I couldn't help but wonder how this nursing home could provide a better breakfast for corporate people and seniors in the community and the sponsors of the games, than they provided for the people living in the nursing home and who were paying to live there.

I've said before, nursing homes pull in the lion's share of Medicaid.  A whopping 85% of Medicaid goes to corporations and is nothing more than corporate welfare in my book.  Why people insist on hating the poor and not laying it at the feet of big business is beyond me.  It will always mystify me. I see postings, after postings on social networks, which amount to nothing more than the poor hating the poor.  Stop it!  The poor are not sucking your tax money up with a straw.  Big corporations are.  What's the answer though?  You want Grandma put out on the street?  I highly doubt it.

Well, during this big banquet which consisted of scrambled eggs, all sorts of danish pastry, fresh fruit and any juice and coffee they wanted, I observed those people with money come back for seconds and thirds.  I saw them wrap up danishes, croissants, rolls, you name it, and place the items in their big bags they carried.  So, again, how is it justifiable for this nursing home to provide better food to the well off, the well to do and corporate heads, than was ever offered to the people paying the bills?  When I questioned this I was brought to task and given a lecture by the Administrator, who of course, was a corporate tool.

My budget for activities, BTW, was a whopping 43 cents per day.  I had a budget of $350 a month for 120 residents and once gone, it was not available again until the next month.  This place had the audacity to constantly expect me to beg for donations for prizes for bingo games and volunteers to help during activities because, God forbid, they hired any more help.

Food for thought the next time you attend a care plan meeting for your loved one. Remember, YOU pay their bills.