Standard of Care
Well, now that we have Mom in a safe and awesome environment, let's talk about standards of care for people of dementia. Or the lack thereof. When Voyageur and I were looking at places for Mom, we visited one facility that is a national chain. And it has a good reputation. So we check it out. While touring the facility, we were told Mom would be in the 'Reminiscence floor' on 4th floor lockdown. WHAT?! Lockdown? Seriously? Of course we wanted Mom in a secured environment, but what kind of philosophy is that?
Well, we wanted to give the place a thorough chance, so we took Mom with us on the next visit. The Executive Director directed her questions to Voyageur and myself - mind you Mom is totally capable of answering questions and was quite offended. Mom was clear - she did not want to go there.
Quality of life. For people living with dementia that is so closely knitted with quality of care. When Voyageur and I sat down with the head nurse from the facility where we now have Mom, he told us his residents were talented. Had lived rich, full lives and it was their job to ensure the residents would continue along the same vein. A resident leads the crochet circle (rather than staff), another plays the piano (they have a baby grand in the center 'town hall') and a couple of upright (player) pianos throughout the building. Mom can tend to their garden.
Recently I had a chance to talk with the Executive Director where we have placed Mom. She told me Mom is laughing, smiling and the staff adore her. We could not have asked for a better environment. When I talked with Mom yesterday, the lilt was back in her voice. Mind you, every other sentence was asking me when I was coming home, but it didn't matter. I could tell she is happy, well cared for.
Being treated with dignity and respect is crucial for each one of us and critical for those living with dementia. Mom is embarrassed enough when she doesn't remember I live out of state, what day or even perhaps what time of year it is. But does any of that even really matter? At the end of the day, and the end of our lives, really all that matters is love, that we love and are loved.
Kickin' it back to you Voyageur.
Well, we wanted to give the place a thorough chance, so we took Mom with us on the next visit. The Executive Director directed her questions to Voyageur and myself - mind you Mom is totally capable of answering questions and was quite offended. Mom was clear - she did not want to go there.
Quality of life. For people living with dementia that is so closely knitted with quality of care. When Voyageur and I sat down with the head nurse from the facility where we now have Mom, he told us his residents were talented. Had lived rich, full lives and it was their job to ensure the residents would continue along the same vein. A resident leads the crochet circle (rather than staff), another plays the piano (they have a baby grand in the center 'town hall') and a couple of upright (player) pianos throughout the building. Mom can tend to their garden.
Recently I had a chance to talk with the Executive Director where we have placed Mom. She told me Mom is laughing, smiling and the staff adore her. We could not have asked for a better environment. When I talked with Mom yesterday, the lilt was back in her voice. Mind you, every other sentence was asking me when I was coming home, but it didn't matter. I could tell she is happy, well cared for.
Being treated with dignity and respect is crucial for each one of us and critical for those living with dementia. Mom is embarrassed enough when she doesn't remember I live out of state, what day or even perhaps what time of year it is. But does any of that even really matter? At the end of the day, and the end of our lives, really all that matters is love, that we love and are loved.
Kickin' it back to you Voyageur.