When it's not fun to be old.....

Yesterday was a very sad day for me. As you probably know, my Dad is going to be 93-years-old in a couple weeks. He has been in the hospital for a while with an infection and he was released to the "skilled nursing" part of his retirement home. And I am using the term "skilled" very loosely. He is currently living in this place as an "apartment resident". He is a private pay and has a pretty nice one-bedroom little place. No kitchen to speak of, but he has a regular nice refrigerator, a microwave, little kitchen sink - you get the picture.

Well - anyway, he is released to this other end of the home and I went to see him yesterday. He was in a double room, in the back of the room. He had a single bed and his wheelchair. Oh, and the use of the one little washbowl that was shared with the other guy. One single bed and his wheelchair and his container for soiled Depends and a laundry container. That's it. No drawer for his things, no place for his clothes, no space for his toothbrush. No light left on. And here is my Dad not able to do much anymore for himself - just sitting there waiting for me. I got there at about 8:15 a.m. I went down and got his mail at the apartment. I helped him wash up, I went back to the apartment to get his personal items so he could brush his teeth. We went down towards the dining room to sit in the sun and watch the news and see some other folks there. I had lunch with him and his friend, Charlie. We went back to his "room" and I had the aides there help him in the bathroom (which had no raised toilet seat and no adult wipes). I had them help me change his clothes and get him into bed. He didn't want me to go home. By then, it was 1:30.

This morning I called the nursing director and insisted that my Dad have a private room with a lounge chair and TV and that someone had to go down to his room and get his fluffy blanket for his naps. I also asked that she tell him that I would be back on Monday.

All I can picture is walking into that damn room and seeing my Dad, once a very vital, strong man just sitting in the back slumped in his wheelchair. I have not had a very good day today.

What happens to those folks who have no one to fight for them? No visitors, no mail, no phone calls, no fluffy blanket? They just lie there alone like all the rest of those people in my Dad's "skilled nursing" unit.

Love