Page Sixty-One.
When I was new in the activities department of Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home in 2003, it took me a few weeks to meet all the residents. Gradually though, I met everybody and started establishing some pleasant relationships. I was told in advance that one particular woman, Mabel, would be very entertaining. She'd moved into the home about one year earlier at the age of 98 and she'd lived at home by herself until moving into Fancy-Shmancy.
So one afternoon, I went to her room and knocked. I'd already worked in the hospital for a few years, so I knew what to expect. I knew that Mabel would be taking a nap, doing a puzzle, watching a soap or some such thing. After all, like I said, I'd already done this type of thing a thousand times. So, anyhow, I knocked. "Just a minute. Be right there." At least I didn't wake her up, I thought. (I hate waking old people up.) After a long moment, a bright-eyed, small-framed, gray-coiffed, graciously-dressed, very old woman opened the door and with many teeth showing said, "hello, may I help you?" I introduced myself as Jeremy, the new activities assistant, and explained that I was trying to meet all the residents of the home.
"Oh, yes. I heard about you. Please come in." She led me into her her room. "Please forgive my delay in opening the door. I was in the middle of emailing a friend in China when you knocked." That told me everything right there. This 99 year old lady, in 2003, was emailing a friend in China. I realized right then that this was no ordinary, old lady. She was hip and knew what was going on. She wasn't scared of any technology or new gadgetry. Her attitude was "Bring It On, Baby". She amazed me. Today, I know people half her age who are substantially more intimidated by technology than she ever was.
We would go on to become quite friendly. I visited her regularly, even after I got my promotion to activity coordinator of the dementia units. She would have to give up the computer about three years later (age 102) because her eyesight would fail. She would die four years after that (age 106). The last couple years of her life, I only saw her on Christmas. I'd eventually quit working at Fancy-Shmancy, but continued volunteering there. One of my regular volunteer gigs was covering Christmas; I visited all the residents in the home on that day and Mabel always gave me some See's chocolate which friends sent her for the holidays. She never lost her faculties either.
I'll never forget the 99 year old lady whom I interrupted on the computer.
Showing posts with label Nursing homes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nursing homes. Show all posts
Friday, April 12, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
High Tea
Page Thirty-Four.
On page thirty-three, I spoke of the fashion shows at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home. Today, I'll talk of the High Teas.
They started simply enough. I began realizing relatively early on in my employ there that nursing home residents don't get to eat "special food" very often, if at all. By special food I mean: party food, exotic food, unhealthy but scrumptious food, food they've never tried before, food you'd have at a new restaurant... anything out of the ordinary. This was in no way a judgement call on the dietary department, it's simply not possible to realistically give the residents mini quiches, spinach-filled phylo dough or tiramisu on their lunch trays. It cannot be done.
So sometime in my first year there, I asked my boss to approve a plan whereby I'd go out and by lots of frozen exotica (read: large budget) and then on one of my scheduled Sundays, the afternoon activity would be High Tea. I'd make all the food myself, brew up the tea and serve it. We'd then just enjoy good food together. This activity would be for the highest functioning residents of the home. She approved it and I did it.
Well, the residents LOVED it. And I did again a few months later and this time a few family members attended. It was more work than you can imagine but everybody, all three dozen attendees, had such a good time it was worth my poor fingers dripping off my bones. Front office had some problems though. They felt it was too exclusive and that I was segregating the residents. If I wanted to do a whole house affair, then fine - do one. But to have an affair such as this but limited to only the highest functioning in the house, well they felt it just reeked of red velvet rope.
Soooooo, I opened it up to the whole house, all one hundred and fifty residents. Have you ever made heavy hors d'oeuvres for one fifty? I still get nightmares. Actually, I never saw more than about half the house come, but many brought loved ones with them. So, again, back to about one fifty or so. The problem here is that I've never catered in my life. I simply didn't know how to cook for those numbers. I'm sure Martha could do it with both arms tied behind her back and blindfolded. In my case, it was nothing short of miraculous that I got the thing on at all.
People did help. I didn't know that I was allowed to delegate, but people absolutely helped. Co-workers, residents' family members and volunteers all helped out. Also, I eventually learned that dietary was more than happy to aid. In fact, I ended up putting a certain amount of the food ordering through dietary because they were able to rationalize the budget better than activities. They really surprised me with the diversity they were able to provide.They couldn't necessarily illustrate their capabilities on a daily basis, but on occasions like this they supplemented what I did beautifully. They also would always cook a lighter dinner that night knowing full well that half the house would be full.
Once these things really reached their peak I hired musicians to play nice music and often there would be themes. I always covered Mother's Day; my co-workers in activities appreciated that. (It's nice to have big Mother's Day extravaganzas in any nursing home. With me doing high tea it freed my boss up from having to come up with something.) I always decorated the community room and put out the fine linen for the events. I used the nice silver trays and the ladies eventually got into the habit of dressing up a little. The ten or so that I did were sort of a fancy affairs. Our own little Ascot Races, if you will.
Let me tell you something, putting on events like this requires the cooperation of every single department. I worked so closely with everybody, it was just ridiculous. Making sure the community room is properly cleaned and prepped; making sure the tables and chairs are set out; getting the linens, plates and flatware in place, consulting dietary/menu planning/ordering food; decorating; PR/advertising; arranging transport for the residents; not one single department is exempt. (And I'm doing all these while simultaneously doing my regular job coordinating activities on the two dementia units.) But those residents loved it. They got to be fifty years old again and going to fancy evening affairs. I was so exhausted I wanted to collapse. But it was worth it.
On page thirty-three, I spoke of the fashion shows at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home. Today, I'll talk of the High Teas.
They started simply enough. I began realizing relatively early on in my employ there that nursing home residents don't get to eat "special food" very often, if at all. By special food I mean: party food, exotic food, unhealthy but scrumptious food, food they've never tried before, food you'd have at a new restaurant... anything out of the ordinary. This was in no way a judgement call on the dietary department, it's simply not possible to realistically give the residents mini quiches, spinach-filled phylo dough or tiramisu on their lunch trays. It cannot be done.
So sometime in my first year there, I asked my boss to approve a plan whereby I'd go out and by lots of frozen exotica (read: large budget) and then on one of my scheduled Sundays, the afternoon activity would be High Tea. I'd make all the food myself, brew up the tea and serve it. We'd then just enjoy good food together. This activity would be for the highest functioning residents of the home. She approved it and I did it.
Well, the residents LOVED it. And I did again a few months later and this time a few family members attended. It was more work than you can imagine but everybody, all three dozen attendees, had such a good time it was worth my poor fingers dripping off my bones. Front office had some problems though. They felt it was too exclusive and that I was segregating the residents. If I wanted to do a whole house affair, then fine - do one. But to have an affair such as this but limited to only the highest functioning in the house, well they felt it just reeked of red velvet rope.
Soooooo, I opened it up to the whole house, all one hundred and fifty residents. Have you ever made heavy hors d'oeuvres for one fifty? I still get nightmares. Actually, I never saw more than about half the house come, but many brought loved ones with them. So, again, back to about one fifty or so. The problem here is that I've never catered in my life. I simply didn't know how to cook for those numbers. I'm sure Martha could do it with both arms tied behind her back and blindfolded. In my case, it was nothing short of miraculous that I got the thing on at all.
People did help. I didn't know that I was allowed to delegate, but people absolutely helped. Co-workers, residents' family members and volunteers all helped out. Also, I eventually learned that dietary was more than happy to aid. In fact, I ended up putting a certain amount of the food ordering through dietary because they were able to rationalize the budget better than activities. They really surprised me with the diversity they were able to provide.They couldn't necessarily illustrate their capabilities on a daily basis, but on occasions like this they supplemented what I did beautifully. They also would always cook a lighter dinner that night knowing full well that half the house would be full.
Once these things really reached their peak I hired musicians to play nice music and often there would be themes. I always covered Mother's Day; my co-workers in activities appreciated that. (It's nice to have big Mother's Day extravaganzas in any nursing home. With me doing high tea it freed my boss up from having to come up with something.) I always decorated the community room and put out the fine linen for the events. I used the nice silver trays and the ladies eventually got into the habit of dressing up a little. The ten or so that I did were sort of a fancy affairs. Our own little Ascot Races, if you will.
Let me tell you something, putting on events like this requires the cooperation of every single department. I worked so closely with everybody, it was just ridiculous. Making sure the community room is properly cleaned and prepped; making sure the tables and chairs are set out; getting the linens, plates and flatware in place, consulting dietary/menu planning/ordering food; decorating; PR/advertising; arranging transport for the residents; not one single department is exempt. (And I'm doing all these while simultaneously doing my regular job coordinating activities on the two dementia units.) But those residents loved it. They got to be fifty years old again and going to fancy evening affairs. I was so exhausted I wanted to collapse. But it was worth it.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Nursing Home Fashion Shows
Page Thirty-Three.
While working at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home, from spring of '03 until autumn of '06, I ended up making a name for myself on a couple different fronts. I was technically in charge of activities for the two dementia units. But, I also started some new whole house activities; created some unusual Christmas decorating and established a vintage hat collection. Concerning the whole house activities: I started a series of fashion shows and I established a series of high teas. Today, I'm going to talk about the fashion shows.
I actually discovered the concept of nursing home fashion shows while working at University Hospitals, my previous job. U.H. had an association with one of the local private girl's schools whereby the students came in once a year and strutted around in their finery. Where that tradition began, I'm not sure, but I then ran with it.
At Fancy-Shmancy, I was bored one day and told my boss about these shows and suggested that we do them. "Sure, Jeremy. Wonderful idea! Get right on it."
"Who me? That's way too much work for MY delicate system."
"Yes, you."
So I called around and got in touch with the headmaster of a local girl's school, explained my need and he put me in touch with the student council president. She simply LOVED the idea. I forget if this was spring or autumn so I can't tell you if the initial offerings were prom or homecoming fashions but either way the girls and the old ladies all had a "simply marvelous" afternoon. I have a theory: all teenaged girls love to show off their clothing and all old ladies love to look at pretty teenaged girls who are dressed beautifully. If you disagree with my theory, that's okay. It's just a theory.
My shows were always on Sunday afternoons and had light refreshments accompanying. Also, to elongate the afternoon's entertainment, I created a series of slides. I would then supplement the live models with a slide show which illustrated more fashion: current, old Hollywood or ridiculously high-end - anything fun and exciting.
I was always the host and commentator but the girls wrote out my cheat sheets in advance so I didn't have to work too terribly hard. Occasionally, I had help hosting. I had a co-worker who, in a previous career, worked in high-end fashion retail and she helped me comment on at least one occasion and maybe more. As a team we were great. For another show, I phoned around and got a well-known fashion expert who used to own one of Shaker Heights' finer dress shops to come on in and comment.
It got to the point where I printed up flyers and advertised, letting family members know about the shows. A lot of family showed up too. People had a great time. All in all, these shows, for all the work they took, were original and entertaining and the old ladies loved them. They were also low budget, always a plus in a nursing home.
While working at Fancy-Shmancy Nursing Home, from spring of '03 until autumn of '06, I ended up making a name for myself on a couple different fronts. I was technically in charge of activities for the two dementia units. But, I also started some new whole house activities; created some unusual Christmas decorating and established a vintage hat collection. Concerning the whole house activities: I started a series of fashion shows and I established a series of high teas. Today, I'm going to talk about the fashion shows.
I actually discovered the concept of nursing home fashion shows while working at University Hospitals, my previous job. U.H. had an association with one of the local private girl's schools whereby the students came in once a year and strutted around in their finery. Where that tradition began, I'm not sure, but I then ran with it.
At Fancy-Shmancy, I was bored one day and told my boss about these shows and suggested that we do them. "Sure, Jeremy. Wonderful idea! Get right on it."
"Who me? That's way too much work for MY delicate system."
"Yes, you."
So I called around and got in touch with the headmaster of a local girl's school, explained my need and he put me in touch with the student council president. She simply LOVED the idea. I forget if this was spring or autumn so I can't tell you if the initial offerings were prom or homecoming fashions but either way the girls and the old ladies all had a "simply marvelous" afternoon. I have a theory: all teenaged girls love to show off their clothing and all old ladies love to look at pretty teenaged girls who are dressed beautifully. If you disagree with my theory, that's okay. It's just a theory.
My shows were always on Sunday afternoons and had light refreshments accompanying. Also, to elongate the afternoon's entertainment, I created a series of slides. I would then supplement the live models with a slide show which illustrated more fashion: current, old Hollywood or ridiculously high-end - anything fun and exciting.
I was always the host and commentator but the girls wrote out my cheat sheets in advance so I didn't have to work too terribly hard. Occasionally, I had help hosting. I had a co-worker who, in a previous career, worked in high-end fashion retail and she helped me comment on at least one occasion and maybe more. As a team we were great. For another show, I phoned around and got a well-known fashion expert who used to own one of Shaker Heights' finer dress shops to come on in and comment.
It got to the point where I printed up flyers and advertised, letting family members know about the shows. A lot of family showed up too. People had a great time. All in all, these shows, for all the work they took, were original and entertaining and the old ladies loved them. They were also low budget, always a plus in a nursing home.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Restrictive Diets And The Very Old
Twenty-Eight.
I created quite a controversy in my nursing home some years ago. I gradually got more and more disgusted by the policy of dietary restrictions among the very old and I got vocal. Putting an old person on a restrictive diet is very cruel, I believe.
Those people have diminished hearing and diminished sight. They've lost their spouses, friends and sometimes children. They've usually lost sexual partners. Many things they're comfortable with - the world they know - is gone. And now... the ultimate insult... they're not allowed to eat what they want because some doctor, nurse or dietician believes that something isn't healthy.
Let's get this straight...
"My name's Joseph. You can call me Joe. I was in the South Pacific, under MacArthur, during the war. But, let's talk about today. I'm eighty-nine and thirty pounds overweight. I admit, I've always been a little chubby. My cholesterol is too high and I have high blood pressure. I have stable diabetes and all my other organs are okay, knock wood. My wife, Vivian, and two of my three children are gone. One of my sons died in Viet Nam and my daughter died a few years ago of cancer. I never really got over the loss of my son. All my siblings are dead. I'm still at home on a limited income so I can't do most things I wish I could. Even if I could go out once in a while, who would I go with? All my friends are either dead or they've moved away. Everything hurts. You wouldn't believe how vigorous I used to be. I played tennis twice a week. Now, I can't even walk to the mailbox without getting winded. My macular degeneration has advanced so I'm not able to drive anymore and hearing aid batteries are very expensive so it's hard for me to hear sometimes. I don't remember things so well anymore, either. I have to write everything down so I don't forget."
"I'm not complaining though. I've had a great life. I was a machinist and married to the most wonderful girl in the world. You could never have asked for a better wife. Boy was she pretty! All the guys wanted her but I got her. Life's different with her gone. Now, I have to rely on my son and daughter-in-law for everything. They pick up my groceries and pills. I'm grateful for them, don't get me wrong, but they're too bossy."
"For instance, I used to love Stouffer's frozen mac 'n cheese but they won't buy it for me because the damn doctor told them I should eat less fat. They also won't buy me real butter or even 2% milk. I'm stuck with cheap margarine and imitation milk made from almonds of all things. I can certainly afford real milk and butter, dammit. When they do get me pasta it's this whole wheat sh**. Why won't they get me good food? I tried to be a good father. I really did. I sacrificed like they don't know. Who worked while they took vacations? Who scrimped and saved? When I was a child my mother could stretch a dollar better than anyone you ever met. We always had food on the table. And it was good, too. Now, they won't even let me have the peanut butter I like and I don't even know why. They buy me this strange peanut butter that has no flavor.. Why doesn't everybody just leave me alone, God Dammit? I have no independence at all any more. SH**!!!"
I knew men just like this, and women too. And I agree with them. In the nursing home It's even worse because we had TOTAL control over what they ate. And if the doc, nursing staff or dietician decided that Joe shouldn't eat something, he basically had no control over it, especially if he had advanced dementia. And his kids would feel obligated to agree with us. In reality, Joe and his children absolutely have the right to refuse any dietary restrictions. The right to disagree with any nursing home decision is a law, it really is. But modern life teaches that medical workers are not to be disagreed with so Joe is stuck eating food he doesn't like.
As I became vocal about my displeasure with this concept, more people I worked with took sides too. On one occasion I actually got into a shouting match with our head Dietician (whom I was very friendly with). I also occasionally received anonymous notes and articles in my mailbox concerning this very topic. One anonymous party left me an article about a doctor in southern Ohio who completely eliminated all restrictive diets in his nursing home. This would have been about 2004 or so. He felt as I do... they have nothing left. Let them enjoy what little pleasure they can find in life.What are we proving by trying to make a very old person "healthy"?
What is life without joy? If food is one of the very few joys they have left, then why deny them that pleasure. In the rule book somewhere it says that if somebody's cholesterol is too high then they should lower it. Period. End of sentence. Except I don't buy that. I think that if somebody should be allowed to die with have high cholesterol if they want.
Redd Foxx used to talk about a friend of his. This friend gave up alcohol, tobacco, women, gambling and unhealthy foods. Redd said, "He's gonna feel like a damn fool layin' up in the hospital bed dyin' from nothin'.
I created quite a controversy in my nursing home some years ago. I gradually got more and more disgusted by the policy of dietary restrictions among the very old and I got vocal. Putting an old person on a restrictive diet is very cruel, I believe.
Those people have diminished hearing and diminished sight. They've lost their spouses, friends and sometimes children. They've usually lost sexual partners. Many things they're comfortable with - the world they know - is gone. And now... the ultimate insult... they're not allowed to eat what they want because some doctor, nurse or dietician believes that something isn't healthy.
Let's get this straight...
"My name's Joseph. You can call me Joe. I was in the South Pacific, under MacArthur, during the war. But, let's talk about today. I'm eighty-nine and thirty pounds overweight. I admit, I've always been a little chubby. My cholesterol is too high and I have high blood pressure. I have stable diabetes and all my other organs are okay, knock wood. My wife, Vivian, and two of my three children are gone. One of my sons died in Viet Nam and my daughter died a few years ago of cancer. I never really got over the loss of my son. All my siblings are dead. I'm still at home on a limited income so I can't do most things I wish I could. Even if I could go out once in a while, who would I go with? All my friends are either dead or they've moved away. Everything hurts. You wouldn't believe how vigorous I used to be. I played tennis twice a week. Now, I can't even walk to the mailbox without getting winded. My macular degeneration has advanced so I'm not able to drive anymore and hearing aid batteries are very expensive so it's hard for me to hear sometimes. I don't remember things so well anymore, either. I have to write everything down so I don't forget."
"I'm not complaining though. I've had a great life. I was a machinist and married to the most wonderful girl in the world. You could never have asked for a better wife. Boy was she pretty! All the guys wanted her but I got her. Life's different with her gone. Now, I have to rely on my son and daughter-in-law for everything. They pick up my groceries and pills. I'm grateful for them, don't get me wrong, but they're too bossy."
"For instance, I used to love Stouffer's frozen mac 'n cheese but they won't buy it for me because the damn doctor told them I should eat less fat. They also won't buy me real butter or even 2% milk. I'm stuck with cheap margarine and imitation milk made from almonds of all things. I can certainly afford real milk and butter, dammit. When they do get me pasta it's this whole wheat sh**. Why won't they get me good food? I tried to be a good father. I really did. I sacrificed like they don't know. Who worked while they took vacations? Who scrimped and saved? When I was a child my mother could stretch a dollar better than anyone you ever met. We always had food on the table. And it was good, too. Now, they won't even let me have the peanut butter I like and I don't even know why. They buy me this strange peanut butter that has no flavor.. Why doesn't everybody just leave me alone, God Dammit? I have no independence at all any more. SH**!!!"
I knew men just like this, and women too. And I agree with them. In the nursing home It's even worse because we had TOTAL control over what they ate. And if the doc, nursing staff or dietician decided that Joe shouldn't eat something, he basically had no control over it, especially if he had advanced dementia. And his kids would feel obligated to agree with us. In reality, Joe and his children absolutely have the right to refuse any dietary restrictions. The right to disagree with any nursing home decision is a law, it really is. But modern life teaches that medical workers are not to be disagreed with so Joe is stuck eating food he doesn't like.
As I became vocal about my displeasure with this concept, more people I worked with took sides too. On one occasion I actually got into a shouting match with our head Dietician (whom I was very friendly with). I also occasionally received anonymous notes and articles in my mailbox concerning this very topic. One anonymous party left me an article about a doctor in southern Ohio who completely eliminated all restrictive diets in his nursing home. This would have been about 2004 or so. He felt as I do... they have nothing left. Let them enjoy what little pleasure they can find in life.What are we proving by trying to make a very old person "healthy"?
What is life without joy? If food is one of the very few joys they have left, then why deny them that pleasure. In the rule book somewhere it says that if somebody's cholesterol is too high then they should lower it. Period. End of sentence. Except I don't buy that. I think that if somebody should be allowed to die with have high cholesterol if they want.
Redd Foxx used to talk about a friend of his. This friend gave up alcohol, tobacco, women, gambling and unhealthy foods. Redd said, "He's gonna feel like a damn fool layin' up in the hospital bed dyin' from nothin'.
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