Today was a trip onto the wild side. Who knew it would feel so good to drop the ever fetching hospital gown and put on a familiar red dress for my move to rehab?
You know, my little sister Barbara Christie Mansfield was a nurse at a home with many Alzheimers patients. (You would like her.) So I probably knew more than most about this great adventure. But I felt an edginess around an experience so foreign to me. I still can't walk, so I am virtually at the mercy of people unbeknownst to me.
I knew that if the smell of urine smacked me in the face right away, that's bad. It means the place is understaffed. My new temporary home smelled pretty good though and looked better, at least from my horizontally-challenged line of sight. But then a great sadness rolled over me.
A sadness that lingers in the downcast eyes of my new neighbors, the tortured cries of a man lost to reality, and the exhausted shoulders of the staff.
From my window I see a line of yellow daffodils, lovingly planted by a woman in a long abandoned yard. A broken-toothed tree in contrast.
Maybe someone should tell our elected Republicans that the pathway to hell is built in part with uncivilized healthcare. We can do better than this.
Be safe. Be well. You and yours.
Gloria
Good luck on your rehab!
Yes we need adopt these places and help. They are so understaffed, etc.
Wishing you a speedy escape ahead.
So sorry you have to go through this. How long do you have to stay there? Hopefully you'll be able to walk soon!