More caring needed at senior homes

At the end of my work cycle when jobs were tough, I fell into a neat little job at a senior home in Arlington Heights, I was a companion to an elderly person named Harry Johnson. Harry was a retired Jewel manager, had Alzheimer’s, didn’t talk and mostly slept. I sat with him three days a week, eight hours at a time.

One thing that bothered me was that no one ever checked Harry’s diaper when I was there, and so I questioned the staff. Thus, I guess, I wasn’t liked. I was the only outsider there and they didn’t want to be scrutinized.

One day when I was feeding Harry, I observed Don (Parkinson’s) and Bill (Alzheimer’s) having their normal food fight. Between the tossing, I saw that Don’s hand shook so badly that his food kept falling off his spoon. Finally, I asked Don if he wanted me to feed him. He understood and violently nodded “yes.” So I fed him.

Later I was questioned by the staff why I fed Don. You see, I was not qualified. I asked why they didn’t feed him, and they said he was too ornery and wouldn’t let them. Shortly thereafter, I was dismissed of my duties caring for Harry.

My greatest pleasure in taking care of Harry was that one day I got him to turn the wheels of his wheelchair. What was particularly disturbing at this home was the television room. I would wheel Harry into the room and see a semicircle of many wheelchairs, the television blasting and everyone sound asleep. Sleeping pills surely makes life easy for the staff when everyone is asleep. What was really sad at this home was seeing Ruth walk though the hallways saying in a haunting voice, “I want to go home.”

Don Miller

Palatine