Tuesday, August 9, 2011
I am moving my mother to a new facility. In the space of five years, she is months away from exhausting her entire life savings. The quality of her current placement has been on a downward spiral for several months. The outstanding staff members are leaving only to be replaced by people who don't share the same affection or respect for those whose care is entrusted to them. I dread the move and the subsequent disruption in her functioning. I feel guilty already but logic tells me this move is necessary.
She is moving to a 33 bed two story Victorian ten minutes from my home. I travel an hour one way currently to visit her. Is part of my decision based on convenience for me.......absolutely.
I did mention I'm tired...right? There is a resident black lab dog who goes by the name Armando (more on him later) and two furry felines who own the place and whatever beds they happen to claim on any given day. It sounds good. Why does this feel so difficult? I have been second guessing myself for two days. I have interviewed other facilities and found them lacking. In short, I have done all I can do to assure that she goes to a good, caring place. The thing is.....no matter how clean, how respectful, how caring, cats or no cats.....I would never want to be in one of these places and the fact is, neither would she.