Rachael Wonderlin

I have definitely been slacking off in terms of updating my blog this summer. Then again, not much has happened that would apply to this website!

Mostly I have been getting ready for graduate school applications! I finally took the dreaded GRE and I’m pretty glad that it is out of the way. I just worked on my resume today with Career Services and I’m planning on asking a few professors for recommendations soon. Yes, I hope to go to school for gerontology, not like that should come as a surprise if you’ve read my blog. I narrowed down my choices to four schools and I want to have my applications in by January 1st.

I thought (mistakenly) that I was done with standardized tests applications after I applied to college. Yeah, right. Fortunately, the worst is over; the GRE is done. I don’t think I’ve been that nervous about something for such an extended period of time. I hope all of you who have to take the exam won’t be as anxious as I was. That definitely impacted my score. I could barely get my hands to stop shaking.

I have visited Helen at the senior home back in New Jersey since I’ve last written, but there hasn’t been too much to say. She seems worse every time I see her. It is really hard to watch someone you care for slowly disappear, but I just wish her family was more proactive in terms of visiting her. I feel pretty guilty going to school in Virginia sometimes.

Yes. The senior home I volunteer at in Fredericksburg, Virginia, lost its Medicare/Medicaid funding in 2007…and I didn’t even know it. While looking up their phone number to give the home a call, I came across this article on Fredericksburg.com. I can’t believe it! I spent a lot of time at this home, and I have my issues with it, but I had no idea how bad it actually was. They must have improved a lot since 2007.

This is a direct quote from the article reading,

Carriage Hill Nursing Home and Rehabilitation Center was banished from the Medicare/Medicaid programs in June after a series of unsatisfactory inspections. Surveyors from the state Health Department found a host of problems, from unsafe conditions to poor record-keeping. A resident died in the home in May when he strangled in his nurse-call cord.

I couldn’t believe it! Carriage Hill had to go up for re-inspection (which means an unannounced visit from the Health Department of Long Term Care) since they lost their government funding. They have 105 residents, most of which need Medicare/Medicaid coverage for their medications. The home decided to stay open, but the residents were told that they need not pay the costs that Medicare was not covering.

I continued to search for more information about the current status of Carriage Hill, but I have yet to find too much incriminating information. They must have improved a lot since 2007, but here is a list of CH’s details.

My visit today with Helen at the senior home was much sadder than any visit I’d ever had before. According to Helen, her boyfriend of sixteen years, Tom, had a stroke back in December and his family moved him to Florida to recover. Needless to say, she hasn’t heard from him. According to the story, he can’t speak or write, so she can’t really contact him.

Of course, Helen always talks about him. “Do you have a computer?” she asked me today. “Can you look him up for me?” I called my mom since I knew she’d be at a computer and asked her to check out his name on Google for me. Too many Tom’s with that last name, and Helen didn’t know his middle initial. We were at a dead end.

A little while later I found a nurse I used to know pretty well from my time volunteering there. She hushed me when I mentioned Tom’s name and shook her head. “He passed away in December. Her family couldn’t bare to tell her, so they told Helen that Tom had a bad stroke and got moved to Florida.” To make matters worse, the family doctor insisted that letting her know her partner was dead would kill her. “She gets dressed up every holiday and sits in her room, waiting for him to come visit.”

Tearfully, I walked back to Helen. I had to keep casually wiping tears away as she talked more and more about him. “Every night I pray that I’ll die. No one loves me anymore,” she said slowly. I assured her that this wasn’t true: I loved her, and her sons must love her, too. “They don’t come to visit me much,” she added.

Heartbroken, I left while Helen waved to me from her wheelchair as I walked out the door.

The person that she loves most in the world is dead, and no one told her. Instead, she greets each day with the hope that she’ll hear from him, and goes to bed each night distraught that another day passed without him. They never got married because they met when she was seventy and he hadn’t divorced his wife.

I cried on my drive home and called my boyfriend to tell him about what had happened.“But all she knows is death. She’s surrounded by it every day,” he explained, trying to calm me down. “Does she want to know she lost someone else, too? She probably thinks of him every day, it keeps her going, it gives her hope.” I am not sure whether or not it is better that she doesn’t know.