Saturday, July 23, 2011
My heart could not grow fonder. I had a long absence from this place, and while a lot of things changed while I was on vacation (not necessarily for the better), one thing did not: These are some of my favorite people on the planet.
It was a back-to-back Bingo weekend—Friday night and Saturday afternoon. First, the news; then, the highlights.
News: It would appear the “rumor” that the Soldiers Home will no longer house light-care and independent residents is true. Everyone was abuzz, and almost everyone is stressed. I found this article from the Kitsap Sun about similar changes in the works at the Retsil veterans home: http://m.kitsapsun.com/news/2011/jun/19/some-veterans-home-residents-may-move-to-based. I plan to send it to several journalism friends.
I realize I am not yet completely informed on this development, but everyone I talked to seems to agree that 70 or so people who now live at the Soldiers Home will have to move somewhere else. I might be speaking out of my butt here, but I would just like to say: These people live at the Soldiers Home because they Do Not Have Options. There. That feels better.
On to the highlights: the people.
1) The first person I saw Friday night was Harold, one of the residents who would have to move. Even before he said hello, he immediately launched into his take on the situation. “I’m going to look at it as just another chapter in my life,” Harold said, trying (not so successfully) to sound optimistic.
2) I thought I saw Ray McDade’s scooter scooting toward us. “Is that Sandy?” came a yell from halfway across the parking lot. “It is!” I yelled back. He stretched out his arms as far as they would go and hit full speed. We could have been a movie couple in a slow-motion reunion scene, except Ray was scooting instead of running, and my hair wasn’t blowing in a particularly photogenic fashion. We hugged a big hug, and I gave Ray his souvenir from Michigan--double-berry jam from a farm near my parents’ house. No more routine strawberry stuff for him.
Ray had immediate news, too: He said he’d received a letter notifying him a bed had opened in the nursing center. He jumped on it. (Figuratively.) We took a tour. On Monday, Ray will move from a single room in Roosevelt to the window half of a double—the same kind of spot Mike had, and just a few doors down from Mike’s room. Ray now will share a bathroom with three other residents. But he has a spot, and he is one of the lucky ones.
3) Ray and I went into Bingo together. Ray had been talked into calling the numbers, and Harold had been talked into pushing the prize cart. Dorothy looked as if she’d been pushed into a depression. “You OK?” I asked her. No, she wasn’t. “I’ve had a headache and nausea, and I fell the other day,” she said. As one of the most independent and ambulatory residents, Dorothy lives in the Betsy Ross Hall—likely the first target of the move-out plan.
4) On the other end of the happy spectrum, Ann Lawson was beaming. She told me how glad she was to have me back, and she looked about to burst with news. I sat down, and she told me her two big updates: She already has moved into the nursing center. (That makes two automatic saves.) And, she has been appointed to a governor’s advisory panel—she said she gets to travel to resident council meetings as a representative for the Orting home. “I just got the letter today!” she smiled.
5) The news wasn’t so hot for a few other friends. Ari, the usual Bingo caller, is taking a break because of personal issues; David Fox is no longer using a walker but is now in a wheelchair; Leo Burton is in the hospital; and Danny was hooked up to a portable IV stand with tubes running every which way. I’m guessing there’s more bad news I haven’t heard yet, if beds are suddenly opening up in the nursing center.
6) On Saturday, as soon as I opened my car door, I saw Bill Crowell walking toward me. His electric scooter is still in jail, so he has gone back to his trusty walker. “I thought I felt the aura change around this place,” he smiled. We hugged a huge hug, and he told me he was lucky no one got hurt in his scooter smoosh. He also said his daughter’s on a mission to bail it out.
7) Friday night after Bingo I thought I saw Gary scoot by the doorway. I caught him outside, hugged another big hug and gave him his souvenir Michigan golf ball. “I don’t golf any more,” Gary said. “Good thing,” I told him. “I’d be mad if you lost that in the rough.”
Gary had news of his own: He’d been in the hospital for 16 days while I was gone. He looked good, and he said he’s feeling better, but geez. I’d had no idea.
We talked for a long time. Gary is so smart and wise, and so plugged in. He said that with the impending move-out, the nursing center has become prime real estate. Everyone wants in, but there’s only one way in.
Everyone I talked to this weekend told me I have to be at the meeting Aug. 3, when John Lee of the VA addresses the topic of The Eviction. I have to work that day, but I am really hoping another journalist or two can make it. Not just for the news value, but for the residents.
These are some of my favorite people on the planet.
My heart could not grow fonder. I had a long absence from this place, and while a lot of things changed while I was on vacation (not necessarily for the better), one thing did not: These are some of my favorite people on the planet.
It was a back-to-back Bingo weekend—Friday night and Saturday afternoon. First, the news; then, the highlights.
News: It would appear the “rumor” that the Soldiers Home will no longer house light-care and independent residents is true. Everyone was abuzz, and almost everyone is stressed. I found this article from the Kitsap Sun about similar changes in the works at the Retsil veterans home: http://m.kitsapsun.com/news/2011/jun/19/some-veterans-home-residents-may-move-to-based. I plan to send it to several journalism friends.
I realize I am not yet completely informed on this development, but everyone I talked to seems to agree that 70 or so people who now live at the Soldiers Home will have to move somewhere else. I might be speaking out of my butt here, but I would just like to say: These people live at the Soldiers Home because they Do Not Have Options. There. That feels better.
On to the highlights: the people.
1) The first person I saw Friday night was Harold, one of the residents who would have to move. Even before he said hello, he immediately launched into his take on the situation. “I’m going to look at it as just another chapter in my life,” Harold said, trying (not so successfully) to sound optimistic.
2) I thought I saw Ray McDade’s scooter scooting toward us. “Is that Sandy?” came a yell from halfway across the parking lot. “It is!” I yelled back. He stretched out his arms as far as they would go and hit full speed. We could have been a movie couple in a slow-motion reunion scene, except Ray was scooting instead of running, and my hair wasn’t blowing in a particularly photogenic fashion. We hugged a big hug, and I gave Ray his souvenir from Michigan--double-berry jam from a farm near my parents’ house. No more routine strawberry stuff for him.
Ray had immediate news, too: He said he’d received a letter notifying him a bed had opened in the nursing center. He jumped on it. (Figuratively.) We took a tour. On Monday, Ray will move from a single room in Roosevelt to the window half of a double—the same kind of spot Mike had, and just a few doors down from Mike’s room. Ray now will share a bathroom with three other residents. But he has a spot, and he is one of the lucky ones.
3) Ray and I went into Bingo together. Ray had been talked into calling the numbers, and Harold had been talked into pushing the prize cart. Dorothy looked as if she’d been pushed into a depression. “You OK?” I asked her. No, she wasn’t. “I’ve had a headache and nausea, and I fell the other day,” she said. As one of the most independent and ambulatory residents, Dorothy lives in the Betsy Ross Hall—likely the first target of the move-out plan.
4) On the other end of the happy spectrum, Ann Lawson was beaming. She told me how glad she was to have me back, and she looked about to burst with news. I sat down, and she told me her two big updates: She already has moved into the nursing center. (That makes two automatic saves.) And, she has been appointed to a governor’s advisory panel—she said she gets to travel to resident council meetings as a representative for the Orting home. “I just got the letter today!” she smiled.
5) The news wasn’t so hot for a few other friends. Ari, the usual Bingo caller, is taking a break because of personal issues; David Fox is no longer using a walker but is now in a wheelchair; Leo Burton is in the hospital; and Danny was hooked up to a portable IV stand with tubes running every which way. I’m guessing there’s more bad news I haven’t heard yet, if beds are suddenly opening up in the nursing center.
6) On Saturday, as soon as I opened my car door, I saw Bill Crowell walking toward me. His electric scooter is still in jail, so he has gone back to his trusty walker. “I thought I felt the aura change around this place,” he smiled. We hugged a huge hug, and he told me he was lucky no one got hurt in his scooter smoosh. He also said his daughter’s on a mission to bail it out.
7) Friday night after Bingo I thought I saw Gary scoot by the doorway. I caught him outside, hugged another big hug and gave him his souvenir Michigan golf ball. “I don’t golf any more,” Gary said. “Good thing,” I told him. “I’d be mad if you lost that in the rough.”
Gary had news of his own: He’d been in the hospital for 16 days while I was gone. He looked good, and he said he’s feeling better, but geez. I’d had no idea.
We talked for a long time. Gary is so smart and wise, and so plugged in. He said that with the impending move-out, the nursing center has become prime real estate. Everyone wants in, but there’s only one way in.
Everyone I talked to this weekend told me I have to be at the meeting Aug. 3, when John Lee of the VA addresses the topic of The Eviction. I have to work that day, but I am really hoping another journalist or two can make it. Not just for the news value, but for the residents.
These are some of my favorite people on the planet.