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Where your last days may be spent
Sunday mornings, I usually get up around Nine o'clock, take a shower, get dressed up and go to church. One Sunday after church Ashley Moore, a good friend of mine from school, came up to me and told me that North Gate nursing home was looking for some young volunteers to help with the activities at the home. "Do you think you would be interested?" she asked. I took a moment to think to myself. It would be a good learning experience. It usually makes me feel good to help out where I'm really needed and besides how could I possibly say no to a beautiful face like Ashley Moore's. "That would be great," I answered, "I don't have anything to do after school any way." With the glitter of appreciation in her eyes she explained in her own words to me that she was very delighted that I could be of some help. "If you can be at north gate around 45 Wednesday, after school, I'll get you started." she announced. I told her that 45 would be just fine and she could count on me to be there.
After school on Wednesday I carried my books to the car and started the rigorous task of making my way out of the schools overcrowded parking lot. I was on my way to my first day of volunteering at North Gate. The road up there is long and curvy. It's as if a snake slithered up the hill and they built a road on top of its path. When I arrived Ashley was waiting to great me outside under the elaborate entryway. "Lets go inside," she said, "I'll introduce you to, Paula, the activities director." As I walked through the "t" shaped hallways with Ashley I noticed someone in the background yelling, "Help Me!" The voice cried in a deep bellowing voice that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. I thought to myself that the nurses and doctors have everything under control and besides what could I do. When we reached the end of the intricate hallway system Ashley told me it was the next to last door on the left. Paula was waiting for us in the room. "You must be Evan," she said, "Ashley has told me a lot about you and now I can finally put a face on you." Paula laid a small pile of papers on the desk in front of me. "Look over and sign these so we can confirm you know the nursing home's rules for volunteers," She said. I must have been in there for over an hour and a half before I was finished going over everything with Paula. When I was finished, Paula told us the only thing we had to do for the day was make sure everyone who needed to eat was in the dinning room by 500 and then we could leave if we wanted to.
As we walked out of Paula's office I heard once again a voice yelling, "Help me!" The voice seemed as though it had distorted into a raspy grown for help. This time when I heard the voice I decided to go into the room to check it out for myself. There was a very old woman in the room. She looked as though she was about eighty-five to ninety years old. She had a desperate look of disgust on her almost leather like, wrinkly face. "Hello," I said in a concerned manner. "Please help me," she asked. I leaned over the bed. I started to ask her what was wrong, but as I leaned over the bed I smelled the lingering, sharp ammonias aroma of urine. I couldn't believe that she had been lying in her own urine for God knows how long and no one had come to check on her. I mean she had been lying there yelling since before I came. "I can't help you, but I'll find someone who can," I told her in a disturbed voice. I walked out of the room and went straight to the main desk and told them what was going on. The nurse that was supposed to check the ladies room said, "I'm sorry I had to take a smoke break". I thought to myself no smoke break last for hours and that was inconsiderate of her. I talked with the nurse for a few minutes and no excuse she gave me was sufficient. After the nurse had taken care of the elderly woman, I finished my job of gathering the people to eat. I never heard the voice ask for help again. I guess I wouldn't have been so upset if I didn't have a family member of my own in a nursing home. I thought to myself what if that was my grandmother in that room.
I began to go to North Gate more and more after school. It started out as once a week then twice. Before I knew it I was going at least four times a week or more. The more I went the more it came clear to me that North Gate was in a bad condition. Management wasn't up to par. They were loosing workers everyday. People wouldn't get their paychecks for months at a time. It wasn't the employees that I was concerned the most about though. It was clear to me that the Elderly were being affected the most. The staff was being depleted and the nursing home was becoming severely shorthanded.
One day Paula came to me and told me the food service director had quit. "Come to the kitchen and get the other volunteers to come too," she said. Once we were all in the kitchen we learned that since the food service director had quit all of her staff just walked out too. Now it was getting close to dinner time. "Any suggestions about what we should fix for dinner?" Paula said. At this point I was just flabbergasted. "How about grilled ham and cheese, apple sauce, and we could heat up some frozen vegetables," I recommended. I thought that sounded easy enough, that is until I was overtop the red hot stove cooking ham and cheese after ham and cheese until I was about to have a nervous breakdown. When we got the apple sauce out we realized that some were sugar free and some had sugar in them. Now my mother used to be a R.D. so I called her. "You have to find the peoples Diet cards," She said, "people with hypoglycemia need to eat all sugar free things and you must look on the cards to see whether they are lactose intolerant, need pureed food, and watch very carefully because you don't want to become liable for any mistakes you guys make!" After I got off the phone I looked in the corner and saw Paula pacing with an evil look on her face. About that time she just left and we never saw her again. She had left me all alone with the volunteers to get everything done. The people of the home might not have got to eat at the right time, but by the end of the night every one was fed. After this horrible experience I pleaded with my mom to please come in and help. After I got my mom to agree to help, North Gate called the kitchen staff and pleaded with them to come back in. They were able to persuade some of them to come back and things got a little bit better for the time being.
Since my mother wasn't employed at the time, she ended up getting on the pay role at North Gate and working there full time. She would come home very stressed out every evening. One day in particular I remember distinctly. Coming in from work my mother had reached her limit. The look on her face told how stressed she had became. I could see tears swelling up in her eyes. "Do you want to talk about work mom?" I asked. Looking at me with her blood shot , swelling eyes she began to spill everything to me. "Evan, I don't think I can handle this any more," She said, with a slight sigh in her voice. "Why what's wrong?" I asked. "Every thing there is a mess," she began to explain, "The people rarely can get fed on time, they haven't been getting there snacks, the other day when I went home we got a ship load of food and the employees just let it sit out all night, the patients have been severely dehydrated, people with special diets like diabetes have all been eating the same things, all their diets are screwed up." I couldn't believe how bad it was. You would think that when a facility is responsible for the lives of others it would be more likely to take those responsibilities seriously. "Is that what has been bothering you lately," I asked. "That's just the begging," she said, "I've been asked to lie and sign things that I shouldn't just to keep my job." After a month or two my mom started to get everything under control, but still she hadn't been paid.
On my regular Wednesday of volunteering, I came in and was talking to one of my friends when all of a sudden a man just dropped over and died. Later we heard that he had impaction of the bowels. A nurse is supposed to check to make sure the patients have a bowel movement by every third day, but this duty was neglected. People with dementia were slipping away faster every day. I was walking through the hall one day when one of the patients was yelling, "Praise the lord, God is good all the time." When he said this I just automatically said, "And all the time God is good." At that same instant he changed from a sweet old man, preaching the word of God, to a cursing wreck. "Damn! Damn this cat, I'll kill it!" he yelled. The orderlies came in and I briskly walked away. People were dying everyday.
On my last day of volunteering a group of men in business suits came in. They were from the state. Being nosy, I peeked around the corner and listened to every thing they said. A lot of their talking was business lingo that I didn't understand. Before the men left the tallest of the men looked at the administrator of the nursing home and said, "We'll be back in hours and if everyone doesn't have there medicine by then, we will shut you down!" The employees were scrambling franticly. When this happened they just sent me home and I made a decision. That would be my last day.
I was right, working in the nursing home was a great experience and I really was needed. I told myself if my grandparents or parents got to the point were they couldn't take care of themselves I would be there for them and take the time they took for me while growing up to take care of them, nurture them, love them, and give my life to them. Nursing homes aren't the best place to live out the rest of you life, and people should make the time to take care of their loved ones that once loved them too.
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