2015-01/19 –
The final place was in West Newton. It was near an armory. It was adjacent to the Massachusetts Turnpike. It was called Golden Living. I found myself asking why these places always had such odd names. If I were to run a nursing home I would find a name reminiscent of beauty, compassion and joy. Not sure what the name would be but it would not be any of the names that were on the places I had visited thus far. I was quietly cursing the fact that my mother did not have long term health care and taking a psychological not to make sure that I do have coverage when I get older. I do not want to have my children forced to do what I was doing. Maybe I will even choose the place for them. But that was for another time. Right now I had to garner some emotional strength to get out of the car and get into this facility to look around.
I took a mental note of it. There was a porch out front, a patio off to the side. There were windows on what appeared to be three floors. I had already learned that windows do not necessarily equal light though. It was next to a Trader Joes which could be convenient for grabbing a quick treat to bring to my mom. It didn’t look so bad. I had no choices, I was running out of options. I had to go in and see how it was.
I walked up the steps to a small foyer then through the door into what I assume is considered a lobby. There was a haphazard sort of living room area to my right and a television. There was a nurses station ahead past a bank of elevators. And there were two offices on my left. A short older woman from one of those offices came out to greet me. She was expecting me and asked if I wanted to sit down so she could go over the details about their program.
I spoke with her at length about my mother and asked countless questions about the facility and their services. I asked about the quality of life for residents there. I asked about security for the residents, since my mother had a wander risk. I was assured that they had the capability of monitoring her and that it would be no problem.
She introduced me to the director of the nursing home. We talked a little, then they took me on a tour of the facility. They showed me a community room downstairs where they hold their larger events. They showed me where the kitchen was down there also. Then we briefly looked at the second floor, but that was not where my mother would be placed because of the wander risk.
We then went up to the third floor. To the right of the elevators was the common room. There were tables set up was well as a full kitchen. It looked a lot like a home would. On the other side of the common room was a living room with couches and chairs. There was also a TV and a video player.
It was much nicer than the places I had looked at so far. We walked down the hall then and they showed me the rooms. The rooms were all doubles and triples so there would be two or three residents in the room. The rooms had adjustable beds, night stands, a bureau for each resident and a closet area for each resident.
The hospital was putting extreme pressure on me and refused to keep my mom beyond 24 hours. There were no other nursing home options available to her because I would need Medicare/Medicaid to pay for it since she had no long term care coverage. I made the difficult decision to register my mother as a resident. I gave them all her information, filled out many forms, and through it all I was in a daze. It was so surreal. This could not be happening. How was this happening? How did I end up being responsible for the rest of my mother’s life? I somehow got through the rest of the process, and they assured me that they would handle transfer to the nursing home. I needed to do more paperwork at the hospital but then she would be cleared to come to the nursing home the next day.
I left the nursing home in a stupor. I don’t even remember walking to my car, don’t remember opening the door or getting inside. What I do remember is dropping my head down onto the steering wheel, tears pouring down my face, my body racking with sobs. I stayed like that, right there in the parking lot. I do not know how long I was there. I don’t know if anyone walked by and saw me. I only knew that in an instant my whole life had changed and I was an emotional mess.
Somehow I gathered myself together enough to drive myself home. When I got home I was still in a stupor, still not functioning, I was going through the motions, but I wasn’t all there. I was not okay. I had made a choice, though, and I had to put one foot in front of the other, had to go to the hospital in the morning and finish the arrangements.