Nursing Homes: Death before death

So, yesterday I was driving with my nearly 80 year old mom. I was taking her shopping to Costco. While driving she told me that she had a dream (or a hallucination, I can't tell sometimes) of her brother Al who is in a nursing home.

We happened to be 5 minutes from Uncle Al's nursing home when she told me the story. The truck didn't take the turn to go to Costco, it kept driving straight up 128 to exit 22.

When we got to the home, it had that nursing home smell. I never forgot that smell from the very first time I stepped into a mental institution to visit my grandmother when I was 8. Nursing homes smell and they all smell the same.... like old people waiting to die.

In the walls of those buildings that might look nice on the outside and may not even look so bad on the inside, but it's all a big facade. It's all about appearances and keeping a perception of a "nice place for mom or dad" just so the adult child can feel good about themselves.

People are locking up their parents when they get old, tossed away like yesterdays trash. Their usefulness expired in the eyes of their children. It's heart breaking to see all the empty faces, with such deep sadness that seems to be sucked up by the walls.

Rehabilitation Centers... Nursing Homes... they are both the same thing. Rarely do people get to leave rehabilitation centers, just like nursing homes. These places are prisons, full of people who still have life in them but have no one to share their spirit.

When we saw Uncle Al, I could tell he thought he was hallucinating. He had that look on his face as if he was saying to himself, "am I really seeing my family walk toward me?"

He recognized my mom (his sister) right away and only recognized me when I told him who I am. He stood up with tears in his eyes and gave me a big hug. I did everything I could not to cry.

Immediately he told my mom and me about a beating that he had gotten the day before. We were stunned. My mom was really upset and kept asking him questions about the beating. He showed us where it happened in his room.

I'm not sure if it was another resident who beat my uncle or if it was a weekend attendant. His story was a bit scattered. He was trying to tell us so much so that no one could hear.

On our way out, I asked to see his Social Worker. I told her what Uncle Al told me. I showed her where the crime occurred. I asked her to assure me that there will be no bad fall out for Uncle Al and that they protect him from harm.

The woman told me that she needed to call my cousin, my uncle's legal guardian.

It's such a screwed up story that I will keep to myself for now.

Uncle Al is in a nursing home prison. His only crime is getting old. Nursing homes, no matter what the sales person in the nursing home tries to tell you, are really just a holding tank for you to go and wait to die.