A little over a week ago I went shopping for a place for Mom to live after she completed rehab. I looked at several different types of places, from nursing homes to retirement apartments. Not knowing how much function she would eventually have or when she'd have it however, it was hard to know just what to look for. I think I needed to get an idea of what was out there more than anything else.
One of the places I went to didn't particularly impress me the first time. It was an assisted living apartment complex situated next to the nursing home where my grandmother died. Unfortunately, it also has the same name as the nursing home did way back then, which lent nothing to the allure. However, the ownership of both it and the nursing home has changed hands since Grandma passed away. Both now have separate owners. While the nursing home still holds a poor reputation, the apartment complex does not.
Sis and I had all but decided on a different retirement complex for Mom; one that had three gourmet meals a day, a kitchenette in the studio apartment, furnishings in the lobby areas straight out of some kind of magazine. It was upscale all the way. The only thing it lacked was practical nursing care. The "assisted" part of assisted living, so to speak. We'd have to pay extra for that. That wasn't so bad, but the fact that it is at least fifteen minutes away from us and thirty minutes away from Sis is bad.
Very bad indeed.
The more I thought about it, the more I thought it was too far away. We're having a hard enough time getting the grandkids to come and see Mom as far away as she is now, and she'd be even further away at this place. I didn't know what Sis was thinking, but I decided to go see the first place again just to make sure of my impressions. I hadn't had a real tour the first time, so I asked for one this time.
What I saw really opened my eyes. Yes, the hallways were a little dark, but they were dark in the ritzy place as well. Yes, the walls were painted a putrid color in the hallways, but each floor was a distinct color so that residents could tell if they were on the right floor. All the floors at the ritzy place were the same.
But what really impressed me was the apartment itself.
These apartments have been around for a while, so as each resident moves out the apartment is completely redone. Fresh paint, new carpeting, etc. When I was there before I saw only the studio apartment. It was little more than a very large bedroom with a bath. This time I saw a one-bedroom apartment, and I knew I'd found Mom's new home.
It doesn't have a kitchenette, but it does have a closet area that can hold a small refrigerator, coffee maker, toaster, microwave, etc. Frankly, with Mom's mental capacity at this time, she doesn't need to be cooking. Of course, we hope that will improve with the carotid surgery and time.
There's additional closet space, a fairly large living room that will hold most of her furniture, a fairly large bedroom, and a full bath with a handicapped-accessible shower. She'll be on a floor that is accessible to an outside exit for fire escape, so there will be no stairs to negotiate.
Round-the-clock nursing care is available, as is assistance with bathing, dressing, and anything else she needs. Medications are given out with meals, so if a resident doesn't show up for a meal they are checked up on immediately. During the night checks are done hourly.
There's a beauty shop in-house, a soda shop (free), an activity room, trips to Wal-Mart, bingo, manicures, exercise, and all other manner of activities, including church services and Bible studies.
But the best thing of all?
She will be less than 5 minutes from my house.
And when I told Sis about all of this she told me she'd already been thinking about it, she agreed with everything I said, she trusted my judgment implicitly, and she thought Mom should go there to live when she's done with rehab.
Now tell me God didn't have anything to do with that!
All we have to do now is get this woman through rehab and the surgeries, and we'll be cookin' with gas!
