What follows is an account of 6 hellish weeks in a Santa Monica, CA convalescent home in 2005 while recovering from cardiac arrest when under the knife.
I have since learned that the establishment and its sister companies were shut down by the State a couple of years ago. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer bunch of crooks!
The story was written from notes entered daily on my laptop, sitting on my unmade bed, surrounded by the accumulated detritus of two or three days of uncollected food trays, dressing wrappers for the 15" incision on my abdomen, etc.
With the passage of time I now find it quite humorous, if a little dark. Enjoy!
I am no Dante, and I never did find Beatrice, but I have indeed been to Hell and it is not a pretty place.
Limbo
When I checked in here I had already been through 14 months of difficult times. A stroke sent me to a hospital bed and while there I was diagnosed with a virulent form of cancer which necessitated the amputation of my left arm, removal of the lymph nodes under my left armpit and several months of chemo-therapy.
The chemo in turn caused me to have several epileptic seizures and a weak heart.
Then my doctor found another cancerous spot on my liver and scheduled a biopsy at the end of July which turned into a major surgical procedure where the surgeon removed a large portion of my liver and during which I had a serious "cardiac event" (my heart stopped in the middle of surgery) which is why I have now been transferred from the hospital to this convalescent hospital to aid my recovery.
1st circle
Nobody Hears
I was given a bed but no place to store my personal belongings. They lost my medication orders so I took my own drugs figuring they would get it right tomorrow. At 5pm they "confiscated" my drugs. At 10pm the next day they offered me one-fifth of the prescribed dosage When they did find my orders it clearly showed that my Dilantin dosage was 1x500mg/day. The charge nurse tried to tell me that this does not mean 500mg dose every day. The staff here are used to dealing with the comatose, the infirm and the senile and as a result they have lost the ability to listen. So after convincing the head nurse that I am smarter than the staff and at least as smart as her, I finally got the right meds.
2nd circle
Nobody Cares
A pleasant young man came by to ask about my food preferences. It’s been 6 weeks and I have never had those requests filled. In general the food is inedible and frequently unrecognizable, that is, when it is delivered.
My personal space is clearly not mine. The bed almost never gets made, the floor is always filthy and what furniture there is is broken. When maids and nurses show up they are frequently complaining, often inattentive, sometimes don’t speak English and, in at least one nurse’s case, completely illiterate.
Naturally, I am getting well very rapidly.
3rd circle
Nobody Expects Anything
Ben, my roommate, is in an advanced state of Parkinson’s who needs much more attention that he’s getting, who is too proud to ask for help and, predictably, falls, breaks his hip and is carted off to hospital for two weeks. He never complains
Betty Boop, an emphysema sufferer who gets no visitors, watches TV 24 hours a day and is virtually ignored by the staff.
Persian Granny whose only communication is to kiss people’s hands, including mine or to scream for her children at midnight. She never complains.......
4th circle
Nobody Sleeps
Ben turns on the TV at 10 every night to watch the news and proceeds to fall asleep by 10:15. By eleven I turn it off so he wakes up and turns it back on. Once we have finished our remote controller dance, someone down the hall turns up the volume so I close the door. Ben calls the nurse and asks her to open the door.
Nurses come by regularly between 2am and 6am to take my blood pressure, change the water pitcher, make the bed, even clip my nails while I’m asleep.
A large fat disheveled woman once walked into the room at 5am, woke me up and asked me if I wanted a diaper.
5th circle
Nobody Cleans
The floor is always dirty. Ben’s tremors cause him to spread his food all over the room. No one ever comes to clean it up. The shower stalls have the aroma of geriatric s**t. One shower stall is used for storage of used linens and dirty diapers, the other has no control on the hot water flow.
Bedding is changed less than once a week.
6th circle
Nobody’s Sane
It’s driving me crazy. Heavy congestion, very weak, drooling all the time now. No contact from Ian, I am on my own. Without access to James, life isn’t worth living, Have to figure out how to end this. Check out which drugs will do the job. No weapons, no bridges, no cliffs. Maybe start swimming to Australia. Aria has conveniently forgotten that I gave up my own kids to raise her, Melanie is 3000 miles away, Elizabeth doesn’t count the 18 years I lived with her craziness. People keep telling me to "get better first". What the f**k for? I still smell like geriatric s**t. Nurse says Ben coming back today, oh joy. In the meantime I will continue to live on Sundays and die for 6 days a week. From now on I keep my opinions to myself.
7th circle
Nobody Leaves
Despite giving them at least two weeks notice, despite asking for my supply of drugs which I gave to them when I checked in, they were completely surprised when I asked for my belongings at the nurses’ station. It’s October 8, 2005. Since I’m going home today I turned on the TV with volume up for Ben. I’m weak, my side hurts but must get out of here today. At 8:30am asked charge nurse for my Dilantin and Aspirin confiscated when I checked in, gave me some song and dance about checking out and getting doctor’s order. By 12:30pm they still couldn’t find Dilantin (about $200 worth) and still haven’t heard from the doctor so I left with Ian.
If someone told you this story, you wouldn’t believe them. I have not heard from them since, it’s now July, 2006. I wonder if they know I’m no longer there?
There are good convalescent facilities.
There are bad ones.
Please, if you are responsible for a parent or a relative who is living in this kind of establishment, please check them out thoroughly.
The smiles and the caring facade they present at the front door are often as phony as a 3 dollar bill.
I was lucky, I walked out on my own.