Nursing Homes: Are Your Expectations Realistic?

Making the decision to place an elder in a nursing home is one of the most grueling decisions many adult children have to make. Ideally, we'd always be able to take care of "our own" for the duration of their lives. However, life is often not ideal.

My mother was in her own apartment for a number of years after my Dad had entered a nearby nursing home. There wasn't even an option for us to care for Dad at their apartment or at my house. He'd had brain surgery that, for all practical purposes, destroyed his brain, and the kind of care he needed was physically impossible for us to handle in a home.

Dad's needs were so extensive, with his poor delusional brain causing such misery for him, that the first days and weeks of his nursing home experience were as difficult for me as it would have been leaving a small child in someone else's care. I rarely compare an elder to a child. As a matter of fact, it's something I generally find demeaning to the elder. But the vulnerability of each is comparable, so sometimes it's nearly an unavoidable comparison.

Dad was so vulnerable to those who cared for him that I trusted no one. Only when I was with him, struggling to figure out how to help him find some sort of contentment, could I feel I was doing what was needed for him. I was his daughter and some days I had trouble getting into his brain and figuring out his off-the-wall needs - how could a stressed nurse or CNA with so many to care for do that?

Painful as it was, I gradually had to let go of my expectations of perfect care and accept a realistic way to care for Dad. That meant I couldn't be with him day and night. I had four other elders who needed me, plus a family at home, including a son with multiple health problems.

I also needed to accept that even I couldn't always get him to a place of contentment, no matter how hard I tried. Gradually, a pattern developed with the nursing home staff and our visits. I took my mother there everyday, and we visited Dad (and my uncle who had a stroke and was there at the same time). I also visited Dad alone. I did everything I could to help him feel complete.

As is normal in any atmosphere (even families) there were certain staff members who were better with Dad than others. Sometimes it was just a matter of swiftness of movement, tone of voice or tendency to smile (or not). However, there was one CNA, Sandy, who was so good with Dad that often when I had to leave, teary because I couldn't settle him down myself, I'd know in my heart it would be okay because Sandy was there. She knew as well as anyone how to cope with Dad during his most difficult times. I had to let go of ego and expectations of myself, do my best and leave the rest to Sandy.

There were days when I had to leave Dad and I knew the person on that shift didn't really "get" him. The person was good at her job, but it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted Dad to be content with the personality of his caregiver. Yet, I had to leave. I knew Dad was well cared for even if he didn't have his favorite person all the time.