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.

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.

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.

In case that wasn’t a vivid enough picture of Helen’s new life, I’ll express it in a few words: things have gotten pretty slow and pretty grim. As if her physical ailments are not enough, today I found out something horrific.

A week ago, Helen’s wedding ring was stolen from her.

Someone took my wedding ring.

she said, motioning slowly to her left ring finger.

“What?” I couldn’t believe that. “Someone stole it from you?”

I was hoping that she was confused, perhaps a family member took it to be cleaned, or maybe it got too tight for her finger. Still, usually attendants in the facility will replace a broken or too-tight wedding band with a substitute ring or even the inside of a bottle cap. After probably 70+ years of wearing a ring, to be without one is devastating.

I went to go investigate this by finding a couple nurses. One said she knew that the police had been called the week before, and that the incident was being investigated. So, this was real. Someone had stolen a 96-year-old’s wedding ring. Not only that, but according to Helen’s explanation, the ring was taken off her finger while she was sleeping.

Her roommate hadn’t seen a thing since she was also asleep. “It’s terrible…stuff just disappears around here,” Mary, Helen’s very sweet 95-year-old roommate told me.

Distraught, I looked at the ring I wore on my right ring finger. I took it off and put it on Helen’s left ring finger. She suddenly brightened and told me that it wouldn’t hurt, it would fit. I gave it another push and brought it over her knuckle. “This is for you,” I said. “But now you are missing a ring,” she said sadly. She needed it a lot more than I did.

I have seen and heard of some things that really disgust me about the treatment of the elderly. This, however, has got to be the worst I’ve actually SEEN with my own eyes. Some dirtbag took a woman’s wedding ring, her most prized piece of jewelery, and probably the only thing she has left that hasn’t been taken away already. She is 96 years old. I have only hatred for someone who could do such a terrible, disgusting thing.

image courtesy of: http://www.sbarnabas.com/

Follow Emilie & her journalism career at http://twitter.com/emilieabegin

Have a good link? Send it to me or respond to this post!

Take a look at Kay Bechtold’s and Rachael Wonderlin’s portfolio sites for two excellent examples of what students are building through this course—a quick look illustrates they are mapping their domains on UMW Blogs and redesigning their space through CSS and more custom code—a domain of one’s own come to fruition at UMW

writes Jim Groom on his blog. Jim is in charge of UMW’s blog site and keeps readers and writers up to date with what’s going on. I’m really excited to be featured in his article! There’s a link right HERE.

Lately I’ve also been looking at graduate schools for Gerontology. There are not many schools in the U.S. that offer an M.S. in Gerontology, and of that number, even less on the east coast. I thought that I was done with standardized tests and hours of university searching, but I was wrong! At this point I cannot see myself doing anything except graduate school right after graduation.

You must be over age 60 or disabled and have no relative living within twenty 20 minutes away from you. You probably have to prove you are not driving a car and/or would have difficulty getting out to buy groceries. The charge to receive the meal five days a week is $6.00 a day in our area. Most towns have a waiting list to get into “Meals On Wheels.”

She writes,

I believe the Senior Nutrition Program and Meals On Wheels (funded by the government) are wonderful programs for all seniors. I usually go to the site three days a week and Grandpop goes there two days a week. We both help serve the soup (once a week), the milk and the coffee.

My great-grandmother (at about age 90) was actually a participant in Meals on Wheels when she lived alone. For only $3.00 a day, she’d have two meals delivered to her home.

This link to the Action Alz website is a wonderful tour of the brain with and without Alzheimer’s disease.  It’s really well done, definitely check it out.

In other news, a trip to the senior home today ended in success after we helped a couple of the AD residents find their walkers.  One woman was convinced that someone had stolen her walker while she was at the church service, so I asked what her name was.  I looked around and found the walker with her name on it, and put it in front of her.  She was delighted that it was back.  I found a little stuffed toy bunny left over from Easter and tied it to her walker.  She grinned and thanked me, promising to “never forget it again.”  She named the bunny “Bunny” and touched it gently.  “I won’t forget him, now.”