Nothing could have prepared me. I wasn't given a handbook when I arrived with a chapter. titled Adjusting to Life in a Nursing Home in 5 Easy Steps. Adjusting? Embracing? There was no way. When I thought about this being the place where I would spend the rest of my life. I got very depressed.
I spent my first months trying to figure out how I ended up here. Who was the anonymous individual who reported me to the State of Missouri? Why now? It had been four years since my mom died. If someone felt that I was in unsafe living conditions why didn't they report me right away? Did someone dislike me intensely enough to turn my life upside down? These questions went round and round in my head.
The first time I investigated my options for getting out of this nursing home I blew it. I let my emotions get the best of me. I was embarrassed. I was afraid to contact the state again. It would be over two years until I did.
"Shit happens. You move on. You do the best you can." That was the response of the first state social worker I met with. when I told her the good, the bad, and the ugly of the last seven years of my life. She was very encouraging. I am not sick. I need assistance with activities of daily living.
There were meetings and assessments, and a plan was written outlining the care that I needed. A nurse came to assess me. She asked what I enjoyed doing. I told her about blogging, writing, and being on social media. The nurse wanted to know what I liked to do before I moved to a facility. It was difficult to remember all of the things that I did before coming here. I told her I liked bookstores and going out to eat. The nurse was hopeful. I pray it won't be long until I am approved.
I have been in a dark tunnel for the past three years. I am beginning to see a way out. I see the light at the end of the tunnel. All I have to do is follow it.
I spent my first months trying to figure out how I ended up here. Who was the anonymous individual who reported me to the State of Missouri? Why now? It had been four years since my mom died. If someone felt that I was in unsafe living conditions why didn't they report me right away? Did someone dislike me intensely enough to turn my life upside down? These questions went round and round in my head.
The first time I investigated my options for getting out of this nursing home I blew it. I let my emotions get the best of me. I was embarrassed. I was afraid to contact the state again. It would be over two years until I did.
"Shit happens. You move on. You do the best you can." That was the response of the first state social worker I met with. when I told her the good, the bad, and the ugly of the last seven years of my life. She was very encouraging. I am not sick. I need assistance with activities of daily living.
There were meetings and assessments, and a plan was written outlining the care that I needed. A nurse came to assess me. She asked what I enjoyed doing. I told her about blogging, writing, and being on social media. The nurse wanted to know what I liked to do before I moved to a facility. It was difficult to remember all of the things that I did before coming here. I told her I liked bookstores and going out to eat. The nurse was hopeful. I pray it won't be long until I am approved.
I have been in a dark tunnel for the past three years. I am beginning to see a way out. I see the light at the end of the tunnel. All I have to do is follow it.
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