storytellers
A desperate call for dignity
One woman’s unfortunate stay in a nursing home
By Carol Cooley
I
met Mrs. Ramsey in October of 2008. I was working as a physical therapist for a home care agency when I received a referral for her evaluation. Mrs. Ramsey had just returned home from a nursing home stay due to a fall that fractured her wrist and pelvis. She underwent surgery with plates and screws to reset and stabilize her bones, then was transferred to Clear View Nursing Home* for rehabilitation. She had no idea how her experience there would affect her. Mrs. Ramsey was the widow of a prominent surgeon. Spending her productive years as a mother, she took pride in organizing local charity events and supporting her husband’s success. Now she lives alone in a faded-white southern mansion on a street lined with sturdy light posts and thriving oaks. When I arrived for our first meeting, Mrs. Ramsey opened the door wearing a peach housecoat. Her wiry silver hair was neatly combed, and beige foundation was evenly spread on her cheeks. She supported her five-foot-two inch frame with the help of a four-pronged cane as she invited me in. I asked her questions about her prior level of mobility in order to set reasonable goals
Carol Cooley is an essayist, short story writer, and health care professional. She aspires to bring depth and strong imagery to her writing. Her stories reveal universal truths, justice, and clarity. An advocate for seniors and adults with disabilities, her writing often reflects her work with the aging and health care. Visit www.carolcooley.com 32| September 2011
for her treatment. She was very clear about what she intended to accomplish, including the length and frequency of her sessions. At her request, I would only see her four times. During our sessions we practiced going up and down the steps and took walks behind her home. She was a generous woman who lived her life as she wished, which only intensified the suffering related to the experience she was about to share with me. When I asked Mrs. Ramsey questions about her nursing home therapy, her mood shifted. She grew anxious and looked at the floor. I asked her if the therapy was uncomfortable. She assured me this was not the case, but there were “other things” about the nursing home that changed her life. “What about all those poor men and women still in there?” she’d say. I asked her if there was something specific that happened. She sighed, shook her head, and didn’t answer. On our final visit we reviewed her exercises and completed the discharge paperwork. When we finished, she told me she wrote a letter about her nursing home experience and was considering sending it to the state. She asked me if I would like to read it. As I read the letter, I visualized the entire scene as if I were watching a movie—Mrs. Ramsey, a frail eighty-five year old woman wincing in tremendous pain after breaking bones and having surgery, while strangers strapped an adult-sized diaper on her. I pictured
her helplessly lying in feces for over an hour while the staff ignored her calls. No compassion from the nurse; just an emotional slap and a hateful remark from a maintenance worker. When I finished reading I looked up at my patient. Mrs. Ramsey was staring at me with tight lips and defeated eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I said. She nodded, stood up, and walked me to the back door. I told her I admired her courage to fight for herself. She gave me a copy of the letter to publish at my discretion, and chuckled that she had nothing to lose. Pain and fear clung to her psyche like uncomfortable companions. Still affected from such a violation of her basic humanity, she must have wondered what she would do if she ever needed skilled inpatient care again. What if she had another fall? Would she avoid calling for help? Would she say to herself, “No way I’m going back there,” and stay put until her last breath? Despite the possible ramifications for exposing her story, Mrs. Ramsey sent the letter to the state for investigation. I hope she was taken seriously and someone was accountable for what happened. Perhaps her courage will help change the quality of care at Clear View Nursing Home and in many other nursing homes to prevent her experience from happening to someone who doesn’t have a cell phone, a family, or a faded white house to return to; someone who must call Clear View home. *Name has been changed.