Perhaps being one of the "Sandwich Generation" (caring for elderly parents and also still bringing up a family) is good preparation for what's ahead. A few hundred years ago I would have been described as an "old crone", and my mother (the one on the left) as a "mad old crone" but times and sensitivities change and now mum, God bless her, is "elderly mentally ill". We spent the day in Edinburgh yesterday visiting her. Eighteen months ago I was happily ignorant about nursing homes but since then have been on a fast-track learning curve. Poor Mother, who's 88, started off in one in Glasgow, very briefly, before we moved her to top drawer home in Edinburgh. The teak laminate and wipeable wing chairs were removed from her room and replaced with her own furniture from her flat (which was sold to fund all this - it was over £900 per week). She seemed to settle in ok but after a couple of months she was moved to their other unit for more serious cases.
Again all very nice and with her homely stuff around her. The room had French doors out into a walled garden with a little terrace for sitting in the sun. She didn't last long in that room however, as she started a "dirty campaign" and completely trashed it. Her next room had linoleum. Things ticked on quite smoothly although she did escape a couple of times, once being found in Lasswade which is about 4 miles away. She must have got on a bus which handily stopped at the door but with no money, wearing slippers and carrying a handful of cutlery, it's a mystery why the driver let her on. Still, we'll never know and she was found and returned safe and well.
A year passed before we received the call. The home had decided they were "not the most appropriate place for her" and she was shipped off to the local psychiatric hospital for "assessment". Apparently there were over 50 logged complaints against mum, many about relieving herself in other residents' rooms. Even for £900 a week that's a bit much to put up with, so we don't blame the home at all. What we didn't realise was that you could get thrown out of a nursing home. A friend of a friend's grandmother was put out for inappropriate behaviour. She got into bed beside one of the very few male residents and that was it. Her feet didn't touch the ground. Perhaps we were a bit naive and I suppose the nursing homes have to consider the other residents, some of whom are not barking mad.
So now mum is in the care of the NHS but has been deemed fit for placement in another privately funded home. She's on several waiting lists. When a new home has a place they come to see her for themselves at the hospital to decide if they "are the best place for her", although with long waiting lists they can pick and choose. She's already been refused entry to one on the list. So we wait. But having had her in three homes and visiting several others I have to say that the hospital compares really well against them. There are plenty of experienced, trained nursing staff looking after the ladies and the surroundings look the same, vinyl floors, laminate tables and wipeable wing chairs. There's even French doors out onto a walled garden. Very big difference in price, though.
(PS - I look as if I am still in the old crone category and am wondering when this Revitalift is going to kick-in. Noticed with alarm that the day cream has no SPF factor in it, but as this is Scotland in October I think I can risk it for a month.)
No comments:
Post a Comment