On Thanksgiving Day, during my performance “on the ward”, I was in a large, open common space, which was lined with individual rooms of Residents. Two or three Residents to a room. All the doors were open, so they could hear the music, if they couldn’t get out of bed to come in person.
Near the end of my ‘show’, in the corner room over my left shoulder, a woman in bed called out “sir, will you get someone to come help me?” I looked around questioningly at the others who were there in front of me. They said “that is what she does”. She continued calling out to me. I finally got one of the CNA’s (they call them RA’s now; “Resident Assistants”)..she said “that is what she does”.
All this brought me back to a sharply poignant memory, one that has apparently marked me for life.
When I was a very small boy, probably 4 or 5…my Mothers mother, my Grandmother, was placed briefly into a ‘nursing home’ in Savannah Georgia. This would have been 1959, may 1960.
It was a LARGE open room, with beds lined up on either side of the room. Dormitory style. Beside each bed, was a chair, like you might have in your living room, padded, with arms.
No privacy, no partitions. My Grandmothers’ bed was near the end of the room farthest from the door. My memories are probably exaggerated, but it seemed like there were 20 or more beds between us and the entrance.
My Mother, and some of her siblings were there to visit Grandma, I don’t recall there being extra seating, so I guess they were all standing and talking to her. I, being a little boy, wasn’t interested in what the adults were talking about, and was consumed with looking around this strange environment.
The lady in the bed next to my Grandmothers bed, was in her chair. She was agitatedly fidgeting, pulling at the BELT which had her STRAPPED INTO THE CHAIR!!!. She was pleading with me to undo the belt, to help her…it tore me up. I was divided with my desire to help, with my instinctive feeling that this was WRONG, yet I was helpless. I did look and could see no way to loosen or release the belt. This was long before there were seatbelts in cars, so I had no frame of reference.
In today’s world, if a nursing home or any facility such as that, restrained a resident in this manner, they could be severely fined or shut down.
Thoughts of that poor lady and my desire to set her free have colored my feelings all these years it seems.
“Colored My Feelings”
by
Jerry E Smith
©11/27/15
Woman, Old Age, Retirement
