No More Nursing Home Blues

            I have learned to be grateful about living in a nursing home.

            When ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) forced me to look into nursing home care, I had lots of questions. From my work as a hospice chaplain in nursing homes, I knew that some were better than others. Some were terrible. A nurse with whom I worked described one as a "hellhole." This knowledge combined with my fears about going to any nursing home at all made me nervous. I visited several local nursing homes with the help of friends. My visit to Hendersonville Health and Rehabilitation was encouraging. The place was clean, bright, and had a sense of liveliness that the other facilities did not possess. I was impressed.        

            Still, I had my questions, fueled by anxiety more than anything else. I had the administrator's e-mail address and asked her my questions. We had e-mail problems and my messages did not get to her. This was frustrating to me because I had a time limit imposed by my dwindling finances. To my surprise and gratitude, the administrator, Cookie Romeo, came to see me at my home to answer my questions. She also became satisfied that her facility could provide the care I needed. I moved in not long afterward.

            I was angry when I arrived. I was angry at a disease that had taken away my ability to walk and was stealing my speech. I was angry that I had to leave my home and move into a facility where I would lose my independence and privacy. I was angry that I had a fatal illness. Underneath the anger was fear: fear of the unknown, fear of dying, fear of helplessness, and fear of losing myself. As a result, I ranted and raved at the staff when they could not understand my garbled speech. I disagreed with decisions that were made about my care, such as making me a total lift from bed to chair. If anyone made a decision for me without my involvement, even simple ones like choosing the shirt I would wear, I complained loudly. My reactions and anger were understandable, maybe even necessary at that time in my life, but I eventually realized it was time to move on to acceptance and gratitude.

            It has taken effort, prayer, and the willingness to let God work in me to change my behavior. I am making progress by thanking the staff when they help me and quickly forgiving their mistakes. My life is a lot more pleasant. And you know what? Now that I am trying harder to get along with people, they are having an easier time getting along with me! Funny how that works.

            My nursing home staff has kept me alive and helped me live well. There are moments of great tenderness, too. A couple of weeks ago, a young CNA washed my face prior to my going to bed. She was so gentle, I looked at her and smiled. She smiled back and said, "This is the way I wash my little girl's face." I am grateful to be alive and living in a nursing home.