I went to see Connie and ended up waiting tables.
THEY SEEM TO be having staffing issues at the memory care center.
There is a core staff but the faces around the core, particularly weekends and nights, seem to change. I suspect there are budget issues.
The facility added an entire new memory care unit, which costs $2,000 a month less than the old unit Connie is in and neither one is full. Connie’s unit has fallen from full – at 20-some units – to a dozen. The brain trust was right that dementia case numbers are growing but the number of families that can afford the prices they charge, with or without insurance, is shrinking as a percentage of the cases.
I walked into Connie’s unit Sunday just before lunch. I was surprised to see none of the tables were set. There was one nurse, on aide on duty. They were both busy with residents.
I don’t like a vacuum, so I went behind the kitchen counter and got the cart with place mats, silverware and glasses and set the tables. The aide, a bit frazzled, came over and thanked me. She and I handed out the soup and salads. I took some of the dinner orders. The meat choice was between brisket and chicken with a crab cake on top. I got Connie’s table served and the nurse and aide did the rest.
It brought back memories of my younger days, when I waited tables. I didn’t mind. It felt good to help, to banter with the residents, at least those who can still banter.
Mealtime can get interesting. When one woman’s plate of chicken, broccoli and potatoes was placed in front of her she promptly dumped it into the napkin on her lap. A woman at Connie’s table never did wake up. One woman began yelling at her table mate and calling her a liar until the table mate got up and moved to another table. The woman left alone screamed “A witch put me here. I don’t belong here. I want to go home.”
I fed Connie. Her frontal temporal dementia messes up signals from the brain to other parts of the body, and it’s become a chore for her to handle utensils. If someone helps her, she eats; if there is no one to do it, she doesn’t. Today she knocked over her cranberry juice, which fortunately was almost empty.
We got through the meal and I left. I didn’t feel good about the staffing shortage; but on the other hand, it felt good to help. It was a nice remember that in the end we are all in this (whatever “this” is) together. It doesn’t matter who does what, just that someone does something.
Rich Heiland, has been a reporter, editor, publisher/general manager at daily papers in Texas, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio and New Hampshire. He was part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team at the Xenia Daily (OH) Daily Gazette, a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year. Since 1995 he has operated an international consulting, public speaking and training business specializing in customer service, general management, leadership and staff development with major corporations, organizations, and government. He also writes the blog stuffonmymind.blog. Semi-retired, he and his wife live in West Chester, PA. He can be reached at [email protected].