I push *1234 (not the actual code) to
enter the Skilled Nursing Facility (SNF) to see my dad. I think to myself, “More security than to
enter most places like schools? Really?” I suppose this is more about keeping residents
safe than keeping us out.
I am a daughter, not a social worker
in this new world of SNF. Note to self again and again. You are daughter.
Dad says, “I feel like I have landed
on a different planet.” I agree with him. Ironically, the SNF is actually located on Mars Drive. Coincidence?
During my first long
walk down the hallway to his room, I wondered, “Where am I?”
Workers at the nursing home were walking and talking to themselves through headsets and
microphones. I heard, “Continue. . . bed 108, in bed, out of bed, etc.” No eye contact
was made to anyone in passing. Robots anyone?
Now that I have gotten to know
these robots, guess what? They are professionals like you and me. I realized what
they were doing was saving time and energy, charting while traversing the
hallways, and checking on the “pods” on planet SNF.
I found my 93-year-old dad’s “pod”
and entered into his new temporary home to find him fast asleep with the lullaby hum of artificial
oxygen. His sweet face was the only familiar
thing to me in his room.
It is hard for me to separate being
a licensed social worker from being a daughter in this atmosphere. In most of my professional career, I have been
acutely aware of policy and procedure when dealing with nursing homes. It was
my job! But now, this is my family!
Upon dad’s entry to the SNF, I
signed an inch thick stack of papers agreeing that I understood the rules of
this planet! Truthfully, I am not completely sure about any of these rules. I am
depending on the experience of others to guide me.
Luckily, like angels on my shoulder,
professors, family, and friends have showed up, called, and emailed with on
point suggestions. Interestingly enough, these suggestions have not only
targeted my dad’s in–house protection and care, but also his financial benefits
as a World War II veteran and retired minister.
One particular professor expressed to me that people
ask her why no books are written on how to help families in the transition from
home to a skilled nursing facility. She accurately replied, “ Until it happens
to you, I am not sure you really would read the book.” I have to say, “I agree.”
My dad called me this Sunday morning,
which was in some ways a holy moment between the two of us. Until recently, his
norm was to attend worship with me every Sunday. He said, “I am completely and
totally stunned at the amount of visitors I have had and their kind and
generous comments.”
I previously thought that most
people in a skilled nursing facility were lonely, felt forgotten, and were off
the beaten path for most of us. I now sense that what these residents need most is the
personal touch of a hand, a face-to-face visit, a one on one conversation, a
hamburger brought in from the outside world, and a listening ear.
All of these acts of kindness are
welcomed.
However, what about telling SNF residents a
story, reminding them of funny anecdotes, sharing tender moments, listening to
wise advice, but most importantly giving affirmations of God’s perfect
remaining intention for them. In other words, “Do you still need me?”
“Grand Jim, Dr. Cole, Brother Jim,
Jimmy, Old Pleasant, Jim” says, “I am stunned and humbled by cards, notes,
phone calls, visits, and prayers.”
Now it is my turn to say thank you, “ Thank
you to the LVN’s, CNA’s, care staff, family, friends, church community, Baylor
family, and professors. You have entered this planet SNF to visit my father and
helped enrich his life. Thank you for taking time out of your busy days to
give my dad who feels alone, isolated,
and powerless a sense of purpose.
On leaving the SNF today, I wanted to remember as a social worker that we recognize the residents as somebody’s father,
mother, and grandparent. They need our loving care and they’re not just old
people in the bed.
My blog site is named Breaking Free
and I think there's nothing more that my dad would rather do right this minute
than to break free from the skilled nursing facility! I am dancing the fine
dance of being daughter and social worker, and I want to make sure that I hear
the music clearly, honor his wishes, and treat him with the dignity he
deserves.
Grand-Jim storytelling with grandson, Jason, in “pod” # 108 at
planet Nursing Home
