The new job was unexpected. I never thought I would leave the Manor. It was my dream job but soon it would turn into a nightmare.
Things were changing at the nursing home. Staff come and go and the quality of care, the food, even the physical environment wasn't what it used to be. Mrs. Algren tried to address all the issues and I know she was getting a lot of heat from corporate, who did their own annual inspection ahead of the state. They didn't like what they saw.
Mrs. Alfgren was especially overwhelmed by the open beds. That winter we lost over thirty residents to illness, discharge and death No matter how hard we tried we couldn't keep the beds filled. Residents had the flu and were sent directly to the hospital. Some came back, some passed away and some were taken to other facilities by their disgruntled families. Our census plummeted from 144 to nearly 100. Open beds meant no money coming in.
The hospital also went dry with referrals. Other local competing nursing homes were going through the same thing. It was a fierce fight to admit patients from the surrounding hospitals and rehab centers in our area. We started getting a bad reputation in the community. Everything seemed to snowball.
Then the state came in and it was a bloodbath. Luckily my department wasn't effected but it was a team effort at the Manor and we all suffered from the consequences. The deficiencies piled up like never before. We were given only so much time to fix everything before the inspectors returned or else we would start being fined every day.
The corporation big shots came back and asked Mrs. Alfgren to step down. Demanded she step down would be the more appropriate term to use. She wasn't even given a chance to clean up the deficiencies. They thought she was too old ( in her seventies) and couldn't do the job anymore.
It was sad. Mrs. Alfgren could be tough but she was fair and treated everyone with respect. Most of all she really did care about her residents, often leaving her office to check the units herself and talk to residents and families. She cared. It wasn't just a business to her and that's what got her in the end because corporate saw it only as a bottom-line business.
Her last day was sudden, heartbreaking and dramatic. She sat in my office, slumped in a chair, staring a t me and softly saying," Well, Greg, we have been through a lot together, haven't we?"
She became Administrator way back when I started as a volunteer. Twenty years ago. I always imagined she would retire gracefully, on her own terms, with a big retirement party and tears of joy. Instead there were tears but not happy ones.
She was so beaten. "Maybe it is time.." she said, her words trailing off. Maybe she would still work, even part-time, somewhere else. Or maybe she would finally enjoy her free time, play more golf as she liked to do on weekends. But it had to be hard for her. This nursing home was her life, her heart and soul for many years.It kept her going after her husband died , as well as her grandchildren. Now she was forced to give it up.
"The last thing I want to do," she said, looking up at me, "is give you a raise. They have been low-balling you for a long time. You deserve it. They can't stop me from doing that."
I never saw her again. When she left so did much of the Business Office personnel. I heard Mrs. lfgren was volunteering with the Red Cross. It was good she was staying active and helping others in need. That was her life.
After she left things changed, and not for the better. The Director of Nursing was appointed by corporate to be the new Administrator. She just so happened to have her Administrators' license.
Her and I rarely seen eye-to-eye. I suspected both physical and verbal abuse by her aides against certain residents, and I took my suspicions to her, as was my duty as an advocate and as a caring Social Worker. I was shut-down even though I heard the shouts and swearing myself. I filed reports and documented what I saw and heard and what the residents told me. It was up to Administration and Nursing to investigate.
The new Administrator, like any new leader, wanted "her people" on board as department heads. I was allowed to stay on but heads were rolling all around me. Somebody had to take the blame for the terrible state survey. Corporate was pleased but the same aides suspected of abuse were allowed to keep their jobs.
We worked hard to clean up the deficiencies. The state came back and gave us the green light to stay in business. We started admitting people off the streets just to fill the beds. Literally. Even the homeless.
Residents were being moved to other rooms and units without their consent or without their families approving, merely for financial reasons. This was against Residents Rights, as I pointed out to the new Administrator. My protests fell on deaf ears and I was left to explain to shocked residents and families. I was running out of excuses.
Once we were clear with the state the new leader resumed her campaign to clean house. Any allegiance to Mrs. Alfgren had to go.
I was called down to the office and told I "wasn't keeping up" with my work. I had no assistant, as the corporation thought better and decided to save the salary of an extra staff person. I was doing the best I could as two Social Workers in one, plus going nuts with admissions, trying to fill the beds.
I was told to give my two weeks or be terminated. After ten years at the Manor as a Social Worker, and part-time worker and volunteer, I was being forced to leave.
I always had this feeling that our ex-Director of Nursing/ new Administrator always looked down on me because of my disability. Most nurses I had met in my life were pretty compassionate yet here was a nurse who only looked at my legs and not at all the good work I had accomplished for so many years.
She didn't care I would be unemployed. Soon I would be sending out resumes again, a world I thought iIhad abandoned for good long ago.
But what could I do?
Those final two weeks were rough. The residents couldn't believe I was leaving. Residents like Liz were smart enough to know I wasn't happy. But we had to make it seem like I was "retiring"- at age 40. That my health was getting worse and I just couldn't cut it anymore. A "retirement party" would make it official. No hard feelings.
I visited all of my residents as often as I could as the clock ticked down on my life at the nursing home. I heard the new Administrator was already interviewing for my position. The majority of the staff were sorry to see me go. 'What are we going to do without Greg?"
Don't tell the residents the truth or else you may upset them, I was advised. The staff? They knew the real reason I was leaving.
Life goes on. My life would go on. The Manor, as it was known back then, only to be sold and bought numerous times in the future, would go on. Nothing lasts forever.
They did throw me a party. A lot of residents were there. Even the new Administrator showed up to make it look good. and "wish me well in my retirement." There were balloons and cake and tears.
After the party I slowly wheeled down the halls for one last time. I passed the room where I used to feed Teddy lunch every day. The third floor lounge area where I would read to Mary. The Therapy Room where I offered encouragement to those residents who hoped to go home. The Gift Shop where I first started as a volunteer. So many memories.
I cleaned out my desk and wheeled home down the driveway. At least Security did not escort me to the door.
I continued to visit on weekends. They couldn't stop me from doing that. I couldn't forget the residents so easily.
In time there was no one left at the Manor that I knew. Residents passed away. Employees retired or got other jobs. There was no reason to visit anymore.
As fate would have it, on Monday, as I prepared to start my job-searching again, I received an unexpected call from the Geriatric Center, the nursing home across the river where I first applied after college. They needed a Social Worker in a bad way and still had my resume on file. They had no idea I had worked at the Manor for ten years or that I had left.
One of their Social Workers was involved in a bad auto accident. She would be out a long time, maybe even for good. They wanted to know if I was interested and, if so, would I come in for an interview as soon as possible.
I met with the Assistant Administrator that very day. I was offered a job in their Pre-Admission Department and I accepted. I was happy to find a job so quickly and so close to home.
I arranged Paratransit as my transportation every day. They did the best they could, and the Geriatric Center understood if I was a little late at times. I was at the mercy of the transit system.
I got to know the drivers and it was like riding in the taxi again. I rode with many senior citizens, as the elderly and people with disabilities qualified for the rides. For $3 a day ( each way) it was a way to get back and forth to work.
Some mornings they would forget to pick me up. Other evenings I would be two hours late getting home, and I called Mom so she wouldn't worry. It was only ten minutes from home, so Mom would pick me up on late days. We worked out a way. Generally it was a regular routine.
My new position was as a Social Worker in Pre-Admissions. I was often the first person families contacted when seeking a care facility. Normally I would do an intake interview over the phone, but sometimes we would get walk-ins. A big part of my job was doing tours. Sometimes I would do as many as five tours a day. Since it was an enormous building it may take a good twenty or thirty minutes per tour, as I answered questions and described the many things our place had to offer.
It was a key position as often families would decide, from a tour and discussion, along with written information and brochures I gathered, if they wanted to come back for a full interview with Nursing and the Business Office with the intent to admit.
If someone was being admitted I would do a Social History for the Social Worker who would be following the case-names, addresses, relatives, likes and dislikes, a brief history how we got to this point, etc.
It was interesting because , like my first job at Aging you just never knew who was going to be touring or doing a Social History at my desk next.
I was making a difference because I could use my skills with the families. I was always good at listening and offering encouragement and feeling compassion for others. So when families expressed sadness , guilt. or hopelessness over placing their loved one in a nursing home, I was there to offer comfort and advice.
Sometimes I never saw the resident. Only families. I missed the one-on-one interaction with the residents and working on the units. Now the only time I saw a resident or a unit was during a tour.
But I didn't complain. It was a job and the county, which owned the facility, treated their employees well.
The Manor would always be home. But I liked the Geriatric Center enough that I stayed there for the next 17 years.
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