Little Angry DollNursing Home Blues - Going into Grey Care
September 25th 2006 10:56
I’ve read a few pieces recently on how hard it is for parents on their child’s first day at day care or pre-school. The little one’s first big step away from you. Weepy mothers standing around as their child merrily runs off to play with little more that a “Bye mum!” You know they have to go, but at the end of the day, they will be back at home with exciting stories form the sandpit.
Over the past two weeks, I’ve helped my uncle prepare my aunt for grey care. Having suffered from Alzheimer’s disease for nearly a decade, my aunt has entered a nursing home.
The process was eerily similar. More than a year ago, we viewed a few places and had my aunt’s name on waiting lists. When we were finally told that a place was available, there was the same irrational, gnawing guilt but we knew that this decision was for the best. And we were happy that we managed to get a placement in the home we liked the best. The three of us visited the home together for orientation a few days before my aunt was admitted, talked to the nursing staff about her history and were briefed on the daily activities there. We sorted through her clothes, labelled them, along with “comfort items” so she wouldn’t fret at the change.
When the big day came, my aunt pottered around one of the recreation rooms while we filled out the paper work. Before we knew it, my aunt was happily walking up the hall, arm in arm with another resident.
In the car on the way home, my uncle calmly said to me “It’s a beautiful place. But I know she won’t be coming back.”
Over the past two weeks, I’ve helped my uncle prepare my aunt for grey care. Having suffered from Alzheimer’s disease for nearly a decade, my aunt has entered a nursing home.
The process was eerily similar. More than a year ago, we viewed a few places and had my aunt’s name on waiting lists. When we were finally told that a place was available, there was the same irrational, gnawing guilt but we knew that this decision was for the best. And we were happy that we managed to get a placement in the home we liked the best. The three of us visited the home together for orientation a few days before my aunt was admitted, talked to the nursing staff about her history and were briefed on the daily activities there. We sorted through her clothes, labelled them, along with “comfort items” so she wouldn’t fret at the change.
When the big day came, my aunt pottered around one of the recreation rooms while we filled out the paper work. Before we knew it, my aunt was happily walking up the hall, arm in arm with another resident.
In the car on the way home, my uncle calmly said to me “It’s a beautiful place. But I know she won’t be coming back.”
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