Visiting nursing homes

In My Humble Opinion
1

I’m a nurse and I work in a nursing home. I am a member of Sigma Theta Tau International Honor Society and am planning on doing a presentation paper regarding this topic at a future meeting, possibly even writing an article for a nursing journal.

I find that these days I rarely see visitors come into the nursing home that are less than 50 or 60 years old. I realize that these are the children of our patients coming to see their parent. I hear people in their 20’s and 30’s talking about how they have a grandparent or an uncle in a nursing home and they hate going there, they think it is creepy or whatever. Also I find that it is extremely rare that children come to visit the patients except through a social organization (putting on a program). We have very few (if any at the moment) volunteers.

As a long term care nurse, I take my job very seriously and find that most of the staff do too. We rush around like crazy trying to get a never ending job done, with little appreciation and then all we hear from the community is how they would NEVER put their parents in a nursing home (of course nobody wants to) or how they think nursing homes give substandard care or how nursing home nurses are not good nurses. Without a doubt, nursing homes need work. But what can the community contribute?

My focus is not (this time) on how we can improve nursing home care but rather how the community can help support their elders in their own community. Why is it that we don’t bring our children in to visit? I hypothesize that if we as parents, raise our children to visit the local nursing homes, volunteer their time, go and make some elderly friends, or just take in some childhood artwork to a special friend in the nursing home on a monthly basis, we’d eventually have people in their 20s and 30s (potential volunteers) who would not think nursing homes were creepy or be ‘freaked out’ by them.

Me? I love the elderly. What about them? Yesterday I talked to a man who stormed the beaches of Normandy on D-day. I laughed with the little old lady who told me that when I fell asleep tonight she would sneak in my room and take my rings! I love how their skin feels; soft, warm, delicate and wrinkly. The elderly are the LEAST touched population of people. Our wonderful medical community is working hard to keep people alive as long as possible, therefore we have (and will continue to have due to the baby boomers) a much larger population of elderly people, and people who need serious medical care in order to keep up the lifestyle. Today’s nursing homes have a much higher acquity level than in years past. But, I’m getting off topic a bit.

I am interested in your experiences and thoughts about visiting nursing homes as a child and as an adult. Does anyone have any insight on what I have said here?

2

Well, I was taken to nursing homes a lot as a kid (I’m 33 now) and was forced by my parents to volunteer with the elderly in my early teens. I can’t say that I find nursing homes creepy. My brother was in the same situation as me, and he doesn’t either. My father is in a nursing home now because he has brain damage, and even though he is only 64, he might as well be 100 for how much help he needs. I don’t visit him that much, but that’s personal between me and him. My brother visits him often and takes his own kids. The kids are all under 6 years old.

I’ve never been on the “scared of old people” side of the story, but I knew people who were. It’s a depressing thought that at the end of the road nobody wants to be around you.

3

Can I do a mini-hijack at the third post? What sorts of volunteer programs are there for helping the elderly?

4

Anyone can call a nursing home and ask about volunteer opportunities. It would vary with each place. Here are some ideas…

Volunteer your time to read ongoing stories to a group of 3-4 interested individuals. Or maybe just a few articles in Reader’s Digest.
Volunteer your time to play guitar.
Volunteer your time to write letters.
Volunteer your time to paint the ladies fingernails.
Volunteer your time to call out BINGO numbers.
Volunteer your time to play board games.

Anything that you are interested in, you can volunteer your time doing. My children volunteer by basically doing whatever the activity director finds for them to do. Sometimes it is just to go and sit down and talk with someone for 30 minutes. Sometimes it is decorating for a party, sometimes it is handing out cake and punch at the party, sometimes doing nails and reading or helping them catch up on their correspondence.

We could use volunteers to hand out drinks and trays at dining times. Or volunteers to take the patient for a walk (push wheelchairs). There are not usually health care related volunteer opportunities, but there is always a chance.

Volunteers and activities help out tremendously. Nursing homes are SO understaffed, especially now with an increase in acquity levels. When the patients are being entertained, they are happy and (for example) not trying to get up unassisted and falling out of their wheelchair, etc. Not to mention, they are just happy and that makes it all worth it.

5

They smell funny.

I don’t think I’ve had any relatives who lived in nursing homes, but I’ve visited a few older relatives in hospitals. It’s not scary, just depressing. You’re reminded of how awful it can be to grow old. Not that I find it that way now, but as a kid it freaked me out a little.

6

My mother is an RN in a nursing home. I had never stepped inside one until one summer break in college when Nurses’ Aide was the most convenient job I could find. (I always had a ride to work!) Upon walking in for the first time, I thought it was pretty creepy. I think because it forces you to confront Death. After I got used to the smell, it was no big deal. Now I tend to talk to old people I see just because nobody ever does. I love old people too! You can learn a lot just from sitting and listening.

7

You can read about my nursing home experience in the OP here. I’m 21 now, my son is 21 months.

I never was an “official” volunteer there; I never called and asked if they needed help. I got into some trouble once when I was 12 and, as community service, I “volunteered” at a nursing home in town, feeding and talking to the residents at dinner time. I was instructed to go once a week for a month (16 hours) and wound up hanging out for, I think, three months.

As far as nursing homes having a bad reputation, well… you hear more about bad experiences than you do good ones, so people are more likely to remember those. I have witnessed poor nursing home care in quite a few different places, and it makes me sick. I’ve also seen exceptional care in nursing homes but it doesn’t make me feel better about everything else.

Getting young people involved in nursing homes is tricky; the tubes and machines and everything scare them and, with some kids, being around strangers just makes them uncomfortable. At 12, the emotional impact was hard for me (especially when one of the residents died), but less so than if I were, say, eight. Teenagers and young adults could do wonders for the spirits of these residents, but some just don’t have it in them and that’s okay.

Some people don’t know how to help, or even that their help is needed. Some people are busy with kids and work and school and a million other things and, even though they would love nothing more than to donate their time, it’s time they don’t have, and maybe they donate money or craft supplies instead. Some people just don’t care. I commend people who volunteer anywhere, however they can. I don’t look down on people who don’t, though, and would never ask them to justify themselves to me.

8

My mom worked in a nursing home as a social worker when I was a preteen and young teenager, so I spent a fair amount of time there. I didn’t like it because I felt like all the old people wanted something from me, but I didn’t know what exactly. I was pretty shy then and not a very good conversationalist with anybody, much less a total stranger with a desperate vibe.

One of the men got me alone one day and wanted me to kiss him. I felt sorry for him so I did. Then I felt like that had been the wrong thing to do, so I avoided the place as much as possible after that.

Now, I would like to volunteer in a nursing home. Now I CAN make conversation with total strangers, but it’s still kind of draining for me. I thought of coming up with a living history project and interviewing people and taping it (audio). Then I could ask more direct questions and seem less like I was doing them a favor. What do you think of that idea?

9

I have very few nursing home experiences, having been raised in a family where the older people were either cared for at home, or died before they needed that level of assistance. I can share a few memories, though.

When I was a child, my brothers and I had a baby-sitter who was a tiny, little elfin woman named Florence Reese. She was an absolute angel of a woman (she had been on the staff of Galudet College in the 1910s, IIRC) and remained alert and high spirited even when she got so old as to need assistance. She very happily moved into a nursing home when she was around 90 years old and crotcheted and participated in social activities at the center. I went to visit her once and as she was walking out the door to give me a tour of the place (we did this every visit), she told her room mate (semi-private room) to “Wake up! What’re you gonna do - sleep your damn life away?”

The other memory I have is of taking my daughter (5 years old) to see her great, great aunt (her great grandmother’s sister). Lilly, Queen of the Universe, loved to visit, and Mary Jane loved to be visited. The very old and the very young - they used to have a tremendous time together. Lilly: “Mary Jane, are you old?” MJ: “Yes, Lilly. I’m very old. I’m almost as old as the Earth!” Lilly: “Really? I hope I get to be as old as the Earth one day.” MJ: “Me, too.”

While visiting Mary Jane I wandered around a bit and heard this coming from one of the other rooms, occupied by a lone old woman, sitting in the dark:

“Daddy, daddy - why don’t you love me? See, I’ve got the pretty ribbons in my hair just for you. Please, Daddy, why don’t you love me?”

Too sad for words, that.

10

I’ve got a grandfather and stepgrandma in the nursing home currently. If it matters, I think I’m your target demographic – married, 2 kids.

We visit my grandfather about every other week, roughly. Why not more? Mostly it’s a matter of schedule. Obviously my kids are in school about 30 hours a week, I work myself from 20-30 hours per week, including a day on the weekends. His nursing home is about 30 minutes away, so we can’t drop in quickly; it takes some time. In between their school, my work, and transit time, we have a hard time getting over there.

The other reason is we don’t visit much is the risk of getting sick. Signs have been posted (and usually are in the winter) that the facility has influenza patients, staph patients, or whatever. I don’t mind visiting, but there’s a lot of infectious disease floating around there. My grandfather, himself, is recuperating from an MRO staph infection which has made it hard to visit. He’s often sick as a result of all the viruses, etc. there, and we don’t visit if he or his wife have something we can catch.

I don’t perceive the place as being that clean, frankly, and much prefer to visit when we can take him somewhere else or sit outside. I joined him for lunch one time, and someone behind us pissed on the floor. It happens, I understand, but that was it for lunch for me. No one cleaned it up while I was there, but they did block the area off so no one could fall. And I’m sorry, but while I’m there visiting my granddad, I’m not cleaning up someone else’s pee.

I’d rather he weren’t in this particular home but understand he needs to be in one generally. This is all he has money for, so it’s where he has to be. I do make a point of taking my kids to see him and his wife because it cheers him so much. I do feel some guilt about not going out there more, but there’s only so many hours in the day. I don’t volunteer myself because between working, taking care of the kids, and trying to maintain the house, I have very little “outside the house” leisure time.

Mrs. Furthur

11

When I was a kid and (younger) teen we would visit my grandmother in the nursing home and it was quite uncomfortable. There was the smell, and also many of the residents who were alert weren’t exactly in their right minds, I suppose, and would sometimes say odd things, yell, or (once or twice) grab onto passersby. There was this one nice Italian man who was friendly, alert, chatty, except he had Alzheimer’s and we had to re-introduce ourselves every time. A bit unnerving for a kid.

After my grandmother’s stroke she’s been even less herself, and we grandkids have been excused from visits.

12

The illness issue kept us from visiting more often too. Every visit would leave me with a sick child two-three days later. When my son was born he was a preemie and we were advised not to take him. We also couldn’t bring sick kids into the nursing home either - don’t want to bring colds in as they have enough already floating around.

I felt guilty sometimes when I would bring the kids. So many of the residents wanted to see my children and they would eventually overwhelm and get cranky. (They are 3 1/2 and 16 months) These people who meant well would look so crestfallen when one of my kids would spontaneously burst into tears when greeted by a stranger for the 20th time that morning.

13

I went as a child through Girl Scouts and Honor Society where we (the kids) were shuttled over there all together to be volunteer “visitors”. It was creepy. Everywhere you looked, there were old people you didn’t know, usually couldn’t understand, and who often looked very sick and/or sad. And they would call you by names that weren’t yours. They would ask you questions about events that occurred decades before your birth. They would pluck at your sleeves and look at you as if you were somehow holding back something to which they were entitled. I don’t know if we were just given an exceptionally “off” group to visit, or if my youth at the time colored my perceptions, or what, but these are not happy memories for me. I don’t have any loved ones in nursing homes, thank og, but hopefully I’ve matured enough that visiting wouldn’t bother me should the situation arise. But I’d be loathe to take a child along, because I think the environment is too potentially disturbing. It’s unfortunate, really.

14

When I was 19, I was hired as the Nurse’s aid on duty for the night shift at a fairly flossy residence for supposedly independant seniors. Although I only had basic CPR + 1st aid, I was hired because I happened to be big, male, willing, and my Mom worked as a RN during days. There had been a few incidents with local kids pulling pranks & so on, and the management wanted a beefier presense on weekends…

My duties consisted of opening the doors for residents returning from visits, responding to the “help-I’ve fallen” pull-chain alarms, and making sure that none of the “newly emerging” :rolleyes: alzheimer’s cases wandered off at 2:00 am. Basically, I was the only one working on weekend nights.

My weekday counterpart brought in a beach chair and slept in the back office, but being young and earnest, I made sure I stayed awake. Very often, some resident who still had it together couldn’t sleep, or craved human contact, and would come down for a chat. One lady always used to bring me cookies at 3:00am, bless her heart; she had been a missionary in equatorial Africa in the 20’s & 30’s. The experience changed how I saw the elderly. I learned they were real people, who had laughed, lusted, loved, and lived a great many things, both funy and tragic, trivial and momentous. They also had had time to reflect on their lives, and draw lessons and wisdom from their experiences.

I really treasure these memories, and I now have great compassion and respect for the elderly.

I also know a bit about what to look for if I ever have to evaluate a home. (Hint: the elderly have diminished taste ability. Check the fridge in the kitchen and expiration dates. Demand to see staff credentials. I was supposed to be an “RN”. I was a kid with a first aid course. )

Mind you, I felt good that I was actively making sure my people were OK, rather than the week-day RNA (also not a RN, despite claims of 24-hr. RN on duty) who slept in the back room.

The experience also taught me that I could do what had to be done, even if it was extremely unpleasant, because I was the only one available to do it. The lesson served me well when I became a father, and had to deal with various bodily substances.

I treasure those memories.

15

My mother and grandmother used to take me to visit my great-grandmother in the nursing home when I was little, and it scared me. Not because of the smell or the machines or the infrequent eliminatory indiscretions or because Granny didn’t know who I was and kept talking about what a cute little boy I was. I was scared because every time we went in, it was a gauntlet of strangers snatching and grabbing at me, trying to pull me up to their wheelchairs and kiss me, mumbling stuff I couldn’t understand or just moaning, and often as not drooling. As an adult, I understand that Granny was in the Alzheimers wing and most of the residents there were very far gone, that the bulk of them had absolutely no idea what they were doing, and that like most nursing home residents they were starved for the sight of children. But try explaining that to a frightened pre-schooler.

16

The hardest thing for me about nursing homes is the change in status of the person I’m visiting.

I didn’t know anyone who lived in one when I was a kid, but my husband and I each have a grandma in nursing homes now and I’ve visted them both in the last year (they’re both thousands of miles away, or we’d go more often…). Both their places are very good ones, spotless, well decorated, well staffed with nice people, etc.; still, they’re institutions, and the people who live there aren’t in charge.

These two women used to be the bosses of their houses, openly respected by nearly everyone they came into contact with, competent decision-makers and authorities. Now, even the nicest staff members talk down to them—I’m sure it’s subconscious and may or may not bother the grandmas, but it sure bothers me. For some reason, few people seem able to speak loudly and clearly without speaking as if to a child. After visiting my granmother-in-law at a city hospital, where it was much worse than at her retirement home, I seriously considered trying to design a class for some local community college on How to Talk to Hard-of-Hearing Elderly People, covering things like enunciation, voice projection, and pacing.

17

I visited my Mom many times while she was in an shared 2-bedroom assisted living cottage next to the nursing home for two years ($2,000/month) and then when whe was in the convalescent home over the next 4 years ($200/day at the end). She contracted dementia for the last two years and was not talking or able to know anyone, including her daughter, and as I was very busy at work 800 miles away I did not see her for the 2 years before she passed away at age 90. My older sister lived in the next town and visited her each week. I could get there during the first 5 years only on holidays, vacations. The home never smelled, per se, except when I was near a room where an incontinent tenant had filled their pampers or such. I learned that such places do not have to smell and can prevent that by feeding the tenants cranberry juice with their meals. It cuts the odor of urine.

Mom/we were fortunate to have found a vacancy in her home town of 72 years. Her “home” mates included a lady who had been her neighbor 50-60 years earlier and one of the nurses had been another neighbor that long ago. I also had Christmas and/or Thanksgiving dinners there with neighbors from the '40’s & '50s who were my age, the adult offspring of other patients. I saw, for the first time since going all thru 12 years of local school with her 40 years earlier, a girl that had had severe muscular dystrophy. She really beamed when she saw me. I also saw her visiting husband with whom I had worked at my first supermarket job in the early '50s.

I never saw many young visitors and more often than not the dining room at mealtime served 30 women and 2-3 men. The staff were the friendliest and most compassionate folks I had ever seen. They had many volunteers and “learners”, some just off the boat, from Russia, I believe. Another nursing home 3 doors away, where we looked first, and where other former neighbors were serving their “time”, allowed pets. One beautiful white house cat lived in the room of a neighbor lady there. That lady and her husband were both tenants there at the same time. He had been active until age 91. It seems the pets lower blood pressure by several points.

I also had the duty of cleaning out the house she had lived in for 65 years (and I for 30 off & on) and selling it to pay her new “rent” until she qualified for Medicare (she had a postal widow’s pension and SS as well). I signed myself up for Long Term Care Insurance 2 weeks ago. And qualified for SS myself.

Not TMI I hope.

18

My Mom was in a nursing home for a few months prior to her death. I too thought it would be creepy, but took to it from day one. There was a quartet of women[it seems 90% of residents are female] who stuck together to support my Mom and each other. They at least could communicate, feed and amuse themselves, and interact appropriately with staff and visitors. It was the other residents that had a hard time. Dementia, senility, Alzheimers, etc. had taken away any semblance of being able to do anything for themselves, or even care if it was being done. I went every day to be with Mom, and always planned something to do, share or relate. A favorite food, her mail, neighborhood gossip were always well received and meant a lot, even in her pain-medicated condition. I believe one of the reasons for so few volunteers at nursing homes is that nobody even realizes you can do volunteer work there. You always hear about VW at hospitals, but there certainly is a need and programs for nursing homes. Another reason is that people do not like to see a possible future for themselves. Most people enter a nursing home and never leave[this is my own take on the subject] Most people in hospitals do go home, and it’s refreshing for the volunteer to see that, and know their work was appreciated. Working in a nursing home is not easy, God bless 'em, I don’t know how they do it. It’s certainly not the money. Most staff genuinely care for their residents, and become very protective of them, especially the ones that never seem to get visited. After my Mom died, I continued my work. Did the marathon bingo games, brought in homebaked cookies and cakes, helped residents write letters or aid them on the phone, sat outside with the smokers, held pizza parties,answered endless questions and cried with many. Yes, a lot of them do reach out to touch you, don’t we all need and like a little hug or a pat or kiss now and then? It’s easy to do, and on some level they do appreciate it, I’m convinced of that. Years ago this was a rare situation because Grandma got cared for at home. Now there is such precious little time to spare for anyone in a nursing home, especially when it’s believed that Granda or Uncle Joe doesn’t know they are even there. They may not know it, but you do. Pay it forward and all that. It wasn’t easy at first returning to the nursing home after Mom died, but all who could made it comforting for me. All her roommates are gone now, and each time one left it was one fewer thread tying me to the place. I suppose I’ll always do my thing there, just wish more family and friends would spell the time in between.

19

That was the problem when we went to see Mr. Cotta’s grandmother. The smells and sounds of very sick, sad people frightened my toddler tremendously (a man in the room across the hall was making very loud parrot noises one day).

But here is the big one I have grown very tired of hearing from old persons - “Why don’t you come more often?” I am met at the door with this all the time from relatives in general and it does not make me more willing to visit. I am put on the defensive before we even say ‘hello’. My nearest relative is 2 hours away and I have made some real effort to make the trip only to be greeted with criticism. This is not the way to welcome visitors or encourage them to come more often. Just sayin’.

20

From personal experience… when my grandfather was in that part of the hospital where people wait to die (in his case bowel cancer) I had returned to my business in the US because ‘I want to remember him as he was when he was healthy’ and I had business to attend to. And this was my response to a not so slow dying of the person who was kindest to me. I was 39 so stupid and unfeeling.

To make up for that selfishness I visit my aged drnented mum in her nursing hone (custody house more like it) 4-6 times a week while I am in the country for 6-12 weeks at a stretch every 3-6 months. Why not all the time? Because I’m a selfish bastard.

But what gets me are the grand-children whom my mother supported, nursed and loved so generously when they were kids. They can’t ‘deal with it’, ‘it is so depressing’ , they remember some slight from 20 years ago (the females especially) . They have their own families, jobs, leisure pursuits. They show up if it is convenient and ocassionally. I’d like to slap their faces but instead I bite my to gue abd encourage them. Even my brother speaks of hiw ‘the future is with my grandson’.

I do not trust married people with kids, they are worse than the kids. Everything is ‘for the kids’ and their aged parents are an afterthought - a 30 minute visit every ten days.

This is the tragedy of modern western society that once srniors, even parents, are no longer productive, they are sent to ‘homes’ to be looked after by strangers. Indians and Chinese put us to shame.