but what are we to do?
Nursing homes are terrible inventions. I detest them. Today being monday, I stopped by to visit my pal, Flora, and I was once again swept away by the horrid smell of bad food and urine. I have some common thoughts as I tread those hallways once a week, and often they sound something like this..."we are keeping people alive too long." I don't mean that we should kill all those people, or that we should not look after people who get sick or old, especially since we have great medicine and technology. But the way we handle some of our elderly in awful. It would not go over very well at the gossip fence if word got out that you had your baby sent away to grow up in a place with limited resources, few caretakers, bad food, worse living conditions, and an obvious odor problem that made the place smell like the monkey house at the zoo. You couldn't do that to a child and say, "well, I just don't have time to take care of it," or "it would cost me too much money to take care of my baby." Yet that is what we do to these people. That's right, that's what they are...people. humans. but what's worse is that for a lot of these people they have deteriorated enough that they have become like babies again. They simply cannot carry out the simple functions such as eating, using the restroom, or move around from place to place. They need constant care and attention, yet instead of giving them that, we send them off to some "home" and let some complete stranger barely out of high school do it for us. As a minister, I get the priveledge of being the person to see them on a regular basis when they'd probably rather see their kids, or grandkids, or husbands, or someone who they can faintly remember. I walk through the halls and see the peoples' looks. It's odd. What are they thinking? "I wish someone would visit me." "I wish I could leave with that gentleman." "Get the hell out, you only make it worse!" Who knows. I bet it sucks though. I visit Flora, sometimes out in the middle of the dining room and ask her questions and hold her hand. I try to imagine that everyone else isn't sitting there watching. Hopefull they have someone that will likewise, visit them. What's worse is that Flora probably doesn't even know who I am, and neither do any of the rest of the residents, but they would all probably enjoy the company. I don't know, maybe they get used to it. We've gotten really good at helping people live longer lives, but I suppose the sick irony of it is that we've also invented ways to (unintentionally) prolong pain and suffering. Every week while I am praying with Flora, I pray a little side prayer in my mind asking God to take her so she may enjoy new life again.