Even with the shift in national attention towards elder care, problems still exist. There is a gap between what facilities advertise in glossy brochures and what they actually practice. Many of these places are built and purchased as investments; as with all investments, the bottom line is profit.
The success of long term care of any kind, whether at home or in a facility, depends on the staff providing the care. They too, are part of an investment -- not only of money, but of the soul kind.
Most people go into the elder care business because they are dedicated to the well-being of elders. The problem is that many of these individuals are in danger of burn-out, which leads to exhaustion and turn-over, which lead to low morale all around, which can lead to verbal or physical abuse if not recognized and managed quickly. It may seem like an obvious conclusion, but challenges faced by staff in elder care facilities are directly related to the level of care and attention given to residents. We must address these challenges.
Only after months in and out of the nursing home which housed my mother, endless hours observing dynamics between residents and staff, and then finally having the chance to talk with staff members -- only then, did I come face to face with what I perceive to be the main threat to the delivery of good care. In spite of what some administrators and nursing home owners may think, it isn't just about needing more operating capital. It is as much, if not more, about the need for soul-level connections between people who reside, visit, and work in elder care facilities. When that is accomplished, less time will be spent on problems that arise out of fear, hopelessness, anger, and exhaustion.
Soul connections, those life-changing 'I honor you' moments that are exchanged between two people, are at the heart of Soul Portrait. When we start to look at institutional care more closely, one role at a time and one person at a time, attitudes and practices will change. Each of us needs the soul- connections that validate us as unique individuals -- whether resident, professional, or loved one. It takes very little time to make such a connection, yet it's not a priority in the delivery of care. We are too busy tending to physical needs and dealing with everyday problems; we can't be bothered with learning more about each other or getting to know one another on a deeper level.
My perspective on nursing home care and my opinions about improving that care developed not only out of my career, but also out of my role as a daughter-caregiver. Both roles frustrated and angered me at times; I felt helpless to change the system. Being a resident's daughter, however, helped me break through my paralysis; I mustered up the courage to write a letter to the 25-member volunteer board of directors of the aging community in which my parents resided and my mother died. I wrote about my experiences and specific concerns regarding Mother's care. Neither administration, management, nor board members responded.
As the weeks passed with no response, I began to feel invisible, just as I did when I walked down the corridors of the nursing home trying to make eye contact with busy personnel who wanted to avoid a connection.
No one was willing to take a step out of his or her comfort zone to ask pertinent questions about what I had experienced. Later on, I figured the total lack of response from anyone (including the chaplain to whom I sent a copy) had come out of advice from their attorney. Was I just another trouble-making family member, or worse yet, a lawsuit waiting to happen? They were afraid, and one way to deal with fear is to deny the existence of a problem. Because my family had long been connected to this church-owned community, I let it go; I was tired and grieving for both my parents.
Over time, and when my anger and disappointment passed, I got more determined to search for answers to the elder care dilemma.
(c) Sally Z McBain