My Story Continues: The Nursing Home

Pss. 136:1 "O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever."

The day came where it was time for me to be transported to the Nursing Home/Rehab center, I cried for more than one reason, I was losing all the familiarity I had for ten days, the closeness of the nurses and physical therapists was something I hadn’t expected. I think that was the reason they changed nurses every single day. The rotation of nurses didn’t allow for intimacy to grow between patient and nurses/physical therapist etcetera.

The Tuesday morning came when I’d await the arrival of my ride to the nursing home. No gurney was necessary because I was now semi-mobile in a wheelchair and I was commode mode so setting me loose was what my insurance called for. My husband and son were not allotted the time to look around at rehab places because conveniently a room had opened up for one woman, at St. John’s, I would be the one woman that the insurance insisted I take. 

Sadness, anxiety, and fear had all crept into my being as I was loaded on the van lift and taken to the nursing home/rehab across from the hospital I had called home for ten days. Gone were the days of very regular delicious meals that arrived between six and seven a.m., twelve and one p.m., and the dinner at five to six. Water refreshed and medication, always on time. The hospital was now a thing of yesterday.

My husband and I were escorted to the entry hall of the Home. A nice carpeted room with overstuffed chairs lining the walls, a fake fireplace was the central focal point and it looked cozy enough at a glance. We were met by a small older-than-me woman with tight curly blonde hair and a nurses uniform hugging her petite body.

“Welcome, Joni, let me get your vitals and we’ll wheel you down to your room.” 

I sat silently gazing off into space wondering just where it was I was being left. The vitals were fine and off we went, down a crowded hallway with patients lined up against one wall and equipment lined on the other wall. The patients looked helpless, hopeless and immobile, looking at me as if I was an alien that landed smack dab in their territory. 

I’ve been in nursing homes before so I knew kind of what to expect, but I honestly thought that there was a rehab wing that separates the long-term patients from us short-term patients that were just here for rehab. This was not the case. You’re not in Baltimore anymore, Joni. Back home my grandmother was placed in a similar facility but the long term/ short term patients were not together. The nurse I’ll call Bird because to me she resembled Big Bird but much smaller, she was the one who was in charge of the nurses on staff, her office was where we came in the door at and she met us there. 

I was wheeled down the hall as Bird explained that they were building a new wing to the home and for now the patients were being doubled up in rooms until construction is completed. Lucky me. Room number twelve is where we paused and she announced it as my room. Outside the door had a name and the picture of the tenant and below her was my name with no picture, just the note on the wall CHEMO PATIENT! Chemo protocols necessary. Gait belt needed.

I was wheeled into a tightly packed room of the current tenant. The room was about twelve by twenty-four, and I was wheeled back to the window where my bed was set and a side table all in about six feet of space. A commode was sitting against the wall where there was a bureau with a television on it. The home did not reek of the normal nursing home odors, for now anyway, so that was a plus.

My husband looked at me with pain in his eyes. He was horrified of the place where he had to leave me, where we had no options. This is the place where Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, also known as PTSD would set in. There were two metal chairs in the corner and I thought, at least I can have two visitors. I was already traumatized by the whole broken femur and surgery, now this. The story continues.

My husband went to work in getting my flowers from his truck to place in the window for me and to bring me my blanket that the church ladies made for me, he wanted it to feel as nice as the hospital environment but knew full well, this was not the environment neither of us envisioned. The comforter that currently covered the bed looked old and wrinkled and the sheets had a clean but well-worn look also, but I wasn’t here for sheets and blankets, let’s move on. 

“Will you be dining in the cafeteria this evening with the others?” Bird lady asked.

“No, not tonight, thank you.”

She went on, “Dinner is served at six in the cafeteria, and if you eat ‘in-room’, you have to wait until the others are back in their rooms. About seven your meal should arrive.” She was looking at her clipboard, “I’ll let you get acquainted and come back.”

Eyes filled with brimming tears I whispered, “Thank you.” My date with hell was beginning.

My son entered the room. He was finagling his time between work, moving into his new place, and visiting me often at the hospital. Husband and son were both trying to get back to a routine of working and visiting me after work. My husbands only problem was that he needed to be home before dark since he cannot see at night to drive. My son would stay until seven maybe, if he could, then it was me, all alone in what felt like an asylum. 

My husband ran off to the store and came back with a new quilt for the bed. He was not leaving me in that mess. Both husband and son went to work to make the place comfortable for me as evening was drawing near. My commode was set next to my bed on the left in a tight space with the curtain of the other tenant pressed against it. On the right of my bed sat a nightstand and the wheeled tray? That barely fit in front of the nightstand. 

I was still basically immobile, I could not bend my leg and the pain was still evident with each move. I did wonder how well I would be taken care of here. The tears...puddled the floor only to be dried by the sheet hanging down off of my bed. 

The night was closing in and the goodbyes were the hardest thing any of us have ever been through in our lives together. I would be alone. Alone in the dark, only sounds of the echoing hallways would be heard and all that the hallways held in them. I would be strong for my two guys. I would be out of here in no time. Right? I have to be.

the story continues...

"My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody!” Psalm 57:7 (ESV)