There are all sorts of sound reasons. Both parents are working, the aged parent is too heavy to lift were they to fall, they’re in the grip of Alzheimer’s and could wander off in the middle of the night God knows where. I accept all these reasons and have sympathy for the feelings of helplessness and guilt that consume middle-aged people with aged parents. But care homes, as they’re called, still stink. Literally.
Ten state-run ‘care’ homes here were scheduled for closure (cut-backs, dontchaknow) but the recent announcement that the Four Seasons company (love those names they give them) is to close seven of its homes has given Health Minister Simon Hamilton second thoughts. If the seven homes close, it’ll affect 254 patients and 393 staff.
What to do? I think there’s only one answer: state provision. In fact if all the privately-run ‘care’ homes were closed and replaced by state-owned homes, I’d be glad. Not that there aren’t privately-run homes that are probably good, insofar as a ‘care’ home can be good, but because the central objective of privately-run homes will always be to make a profit. The central objective of the state-run ‘care’ homes is or should be the welfare of the people they’re looking after. Talk about healthy competition driving the costs down and forcing standards up is a load of hooey. If privately-run homes provide good care it’s because it makes them money, not because they care about the residents. The NHS, now under such shameless attack by the Tory government in Westminster, is a pearl beyond all worth and deserves support from every civilized person. Ditto for ‘care’ homes.
Not that corralling old people on reservations with lawns is the answer, whether state-run or privately-run. If you want to see how awful it is to be surrounded day after day by old people at various levels of sedation, go into a ‘care’ home and look into the eyes of the first five residents you meet. Hell.
I saw the movie ‘The Lady and the Van’ the other day, by Alan Bennett. There’s a point in it where the actor playing Bennett ponders over the fact that when it’s published, people will say it contains too many references to shit. “Although that’s what caring comes down to mainly. Shit.” Shit for the helpless, shit for their carers.
I hope future ages judge us gently on this one. But I doubt it.
It beggars belief. On the day legislation on “Welfare Cuts” was being accelerated through the corridors of power, cuts were being delivered to one of the most vulnerable groups in society, older people. Elected representatives on the hill did not wish to dirty their hands with punitive cuts and passed the buck to Westminster. People will bear this in mind at the next election.
On the same day in the Assembly, there were lofty references to the Bible and war. Plato even got a mention. Given the amount of money spent on bouncy castles, courtesy of the tax payer for orangefest, it is evident that the Disney icon Pluto must be on the reading list in Fawlty Towers.
It was funny, were it not serious, to listen to Mr Donaldson offering “Ulster” as a base for nuclear submarines, this from an MP of a landlocked constituency. I suspect the gentleman is perhaps envious of Ms Sturgeon’s mandate. We have no money to care for older people and unlimited resources for weapons of mass destruction. A base for nuclear submarines in this part of the world will fortunately remain a pipe dream as members of the Privy Council know that a major threat to any conventional or nuclear submarine is a leak.
I had occasion to spend a night in hospital last week and due to my age or perhaps a shortage of beds or maybe somebody’s estimate of my compos mentis, found myself installed in a ward dominated by gaga old ladies. It was late in the day when I was admitted and the old ladies’ sedatives were wearing off. Several were already out of bed and getting ready to leave. One was heading home to her Mammy. Another was late for work in the office, which, she told me, was further along the corridor.
A nursing assistant invited them to wait a little while and have a nice cup of tea with biscuits before leaving. The tactic worked. All the old ladies consented to have tea and soon forgot about their plans for adventuring forth.
My favourite exchange was this one –
Nursing assistant: Where are you going?
Straying Patient: I’ll tell you when I get back.
There’s nothing like a night in the old ladies’ ward to remind me that a bit more exercise and a healthier diet might defer the inevitable for a while longer.
maybe new laws passed having the choice to end it,i know the option i would choose.
But are the Tories attacking the NHS, or are they simply making it better for the people in the south of England who do pay for the rest of the UK after all?
Waiting lists are shorter and care in London is far superior that it is in northern ireland even though we apparently have more public sector spend per person.
We already get a hell of a lot out of them. If running northern ireland within the UK is an unnecessary drain of resources and the duplication is wasting billions then as unionists say, it is a sacrifice worth paying for membership of the UK.
And if we ever grow a set of balls, we can always start talking about how we could do things better on our own as they are in Scotland.
Until then, we will just have to suck it up. Let the Tories do what they want with THEIR NHS. I would be happy to pay for one of our own.
Sad.story.jude.
Is.mor.an.trua.sin – More’s.the.pity.Jim.(.sob.).
My mother-in -law aged 100 died recently. She spent the last 8 years in a “good” care home and it was bloody awful.She “lost her handbag,denturesand her wedding ring!!!!
When we went visiting her (at least three times a week) she was sometimes dressed in someone else`s clothes. As I said this was allegedly a “GOOD” one
The A LIST
It hits all: the most shallow of social climbers
The hallowed poet who disdains all rhymers
No more of your doting
No era for sugar coating
Today’s ultimate A to Z word is Alzheimer’s.
It is also a word, Esteemed Blogmeister, which has altered in meaning (pre-senile dementia) since Dr. Aloysius Alzheimer of Bavaria in 1906 first recognised the condition in a 51 year old woman.
Alzheimer’s , as a term, now seems to embrace all sufferers of dementia, regardless of age.
Curiously, 51 was the very age the eponymous doctor himself was to die at , though not from Alzheimer’s. He fell suddenly ill during a train journey to Silesia and died not long afterwards from heart failure.
One term in leprechaun to describe the condition of Irish dementia can be literally translated as: the mist is on him (ta neal air).
Which, not so oddly, brings the name of the divine Iris DeMent to mind: singer and composer of one of the great contemporary ballads and a sure entrant into the Great American Songbook: ‘Our Town’.
Its poignant lyrics could also hint at the sad inevitability of the topic in question:
I buried my Mamma and I buried my Pa
They sleep up the street behind that pretty brick wall
I bring them flowers about every day
But I just gotta cry when I think what they’d say.
If they could see how the sun’s sinking fast
And just like they say, nothing good ever lasts.
Alas, for our town of Dublin these few days when a caterwauling and crawthumping quarter of dustbin-lid banging imposters can fuel most of the people most of the time with an induced form of early dementia. While getting them to pay through the nose for having their ears simultaneously assaulted and batteried (included).
It goes without saying that, erm, the streets have no name as the newly erected plates have all been blasted off, willy nilly.
It also goes without s. that nobody has bettered The Great Shakes for a description of Alzeimher’s :
‘Last scene of all:
That ends ends this strange, eventful history
Is second childishness and mere oblivion:
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Care homes for the elderly attract all sorts of names from the solemn to the predictable to the unprintably comic. One’s personal favouite from the vernacular is: The Departure Lounge.
Which reminds one that the Embassy of Vulgaria have been particularly busy this week on Liffeyside. Not only did they sponsor the Decibel Extravaganza (see above) in the U2 3 Arena but they also organized a particularly gross pageant of nouveau riche notice-boxery.
This happened out at DOBlin Airport when a diffident Denis O’Brien landed his latest 60 million euro executive toy for viewing purposes only. (There’s nothing missed on him / Nil aon neal air).
On that part of the tarmac outside The Departure Lounge and which is rigidly reserved for (gulp) the King Learjet Set.
You have surpassed yourself, Perkin – how I love that lil Iris DeMent with her Teresa-Breweresque voice. And ‘the departure lounge’ – dear God. I think I’ll go First Class…
Ah, Teresa Brewer.
A Tear Fell on reading your mention of her name, EB.
TB, whose catch-in-the-throat soprano caught the ear of millions in the Fabulous Fifties when pop music really was Music ! Music! Music !
Another of her hits which one perhaps better not mention for fear/ ar eagla your younger readership might think it strikes a note nearer home.
In fact, her ‘Mutual Admiration Society’ was recorded with Mickey Mantle in mind,. It was her second hit with the all time New Yawk Yankee baseball legend in mind, The first hit she co-wrote and whose title had rather more of the direct method / modh direach about it.
Put it this way: if Mickey Mantle (whose admiration for the singer was by all accounts mutual) had written .the male version of the song in q., it would have had the following title:
-I love Teresa !
Nar laga Dia do bhlog, a Mhaistir Ionuin Blog.
PPS
Pardon this afterthought, EB, but another thought just struck one, as in – ouch!.
As this is a rare enough occurrence, and becoming even more so as the sere and yeller feller beckons even more urgently with the crooked finger from the sideline.
But, for what it’s worth,here goes: both Teresa Brewer and Mickey Mantle went on to form other mutual admiration societies of a different order with another duo, a duo of Texans this time.,
Neither of whom was destined to leave the Departure Lounge and fly away to the Great Out Yonder on Alzheimer Airlines.
In Theresa Brewer’s case it was with the ill-fated and brilliant Buddy Holly. This happened when they were signed by the same record label.
In Mickey Mantle’s case it was with the ill-fated and awesomely talented Gentleman Jim Reeves. This came about when the Texan baritone was the first to point out the one, albeit minuscule, flaw in the switch hitter’s otherwise perfect technique.
Before he went on to wow the world with his mellow / meller baritone, Reeves had been a promising pitcher with the St. Louis Cardinals. A leg injury abruptly ended that career just as a sudden squall of turbulent weather brought the single engine plane he was piloting to a sudden halt.
Ceo meala agus ceol draoichta.
Breweresque – was she any relation of Burlesque?
Ask your granny, Sherdy…
It is a sad fact that the people being paid to look after our welfare and our elderly parents and relations, in old age, are some of the poorest paid. You’d imagine care should be a priority job but the wages don’t reflect that.. Both my father and his sister spent their last demented years in a care home. They basically needed around the clock care eventually . My aunt was moved from one care home to another when my wife noticed that two of the staff working there had been sacked from their previous employment in a similar job.My aunt was then moved . Of course not all homes are the same .You’d think that there would be all sorts of checks …police checks maybe …and balances when employing someone in such a “responsible” job….Not so it seems. Of course if the tories have their way everything will be turned into a money-orientated business plan and that doesn’t always mean the most efficient. .
“Of course if the tories have their way everything will be turned into a money-orientated business plan and that doesn’t always mean the most efficient.”
Actually it does. The problem with the UK NHS is the cost is rising as we live longer and the Tories are drawing a greater percentage of the wealth to London and the south east where the wealth is, so the services there will be far superior than poorer regions who cant pay their way.
Scotland will eventually pursue independence and create their own health service to address this.
Time we stopped whinging about the tories and did something about it likewise, otherwise beggars cant be choosers.
Financial acuity seems to be in short supply.
These seven Four Seasons care homes are apparently being closed as they are losing money.
Does this mean that the other homes they run are being kept open because they are making money.
If so, how can some run at a loss, but with the same overall management, most run at a profit.
We are told one of the main financial problems is the need to employ agency staff – nurses and carers – as they can be three times more costly than permanent staff.
Is there an overall shortage of these staff due to government policies reducing university intake of nursing students?
If so, it should be reversed immediately.
The idea of having all care homes under government control would bring much more security to those in care and their families who, due to private companies being able to announce home closures without any thought for the needs of their residents, is disgraceful.
Government thought it would ease problems for their administrators, but is just causing bigger problems. Government have the responsibility and should take their responsibilities seriously.
My mother worked in a Care Home this time 10 years ago. Her job wasn’t a carer but working in the Kitchens, the only contact she really had with the elderly there was helping serve them their food which she enjoyed doing and having a chat with them, only the elderly that could walk to the dinning area, of course. She even met her former Teacher who was very fond of my mother at school. Her former teacher was very elderly at that point (she has since passed away) but her mind was still very sharp.
My mother enjoyed spending her time with the elderly there (though there were a few grumpy old men) but she didn’t like her employers and co-workers. She said she seen many cases of neglect and even seen carers being rude to the elderly. She particularly noted how the staff of the care home suddenly put on “an Act” when families visited their elderly relatives but the “Act” ended the moment the families left. Not wanting to be unfair to all the carers, my mother did say there were many carers who did do their jobs properly and did genuinely care but certainly not all of them.
I don’t support care homes. I believe an alternative system must be available. My grandmother currently requires 24 hour care and gets visited by nurses 3 times a day and at the start of this year had to get her leg amputated. My aunt is her carer and gave up work to look after her full time. My grandmother had 7 children, each do their part to help with her care, whether its with money or their own time. In my experience old people enjoy having their own privacy, dignity and having their own home. Maybe a system of “Care Villages” might be an alternative to Care Homes. Where each patient has a small bungalow of their own in a secure, policed area, with alarm buttons in each home and regular visits by nurses and home helps? In that way the elderly have their dignity and privacy but they have security and 24 hour help is always available if requested. That’s just my idea.
My mother, even 10 years after leaving her employment in the care home, has made us (me and my siblings) promise her we wont ever put her into a care home and we definitely wouldn’t.
PS .Bloody brilliant, Mighty Perk…and i particularly like that little phrase “the mist is on him (ta neal air)”…I’m sure that’ll remain, sticking fast inside my demented head , long after i’ve forgotten who I used to be !!
GRMMA, paddykool.
If I don’t acknowledge your own b. brilliant blogs as often as one might, mea culpa. But there is a good excuse. There always is.
The thing is, some days one thinks one is this person, while another day one imagines one is that person.
Right now, one is going through a ‘Je suis Denis O’Brien’ phase. (There are phases like this, as the song has it in one’s own particular Care Centre). This causes one to be out of the country more often than not. It’s a de facto fact of business life as lived at that level.
The staff, be assured, are relieved to see the back of one.
Gulfstreaming to the two corners of the Flat Earth, on a week on week basis. And of course, the only in-flight reading on these jaunty junkets are the publications which emanate from the Independent stable. Horse Sense Sindo etc. One of whose maxims is: blogs, particularly this one, cause Deep Vein Thrombosis of the Brain. Especially, the more deadly form: the symptomless form.
On others occasions one fancies one is one’s all time favourite M.P. (it’s a bye product of the unfortunate label you insist on labellling one with, pk., But one;s inner masochist isn’t complaiinng).
In this instance it happens to be (who else), Cyril Smith, current Liberal MP for Rochdale.
Call it an instance of inside every thin man there’s a Fat Man ( not a Fat Lad) trying to get out. (see DOB above). Two bonus points from opting to be Big Cyril are:
-one gets to reprise once again one’s legendary version of ‘She’s a Laddie, oops, Lassie from Lancashire’ on my old mucker, Jimmy Saville’s early 1970’s telly show: ‘Clunk Click’.
and
-one gets to visit the Emerald Isle. The only downside to the latter is that as soon as I step on Irish soil I’m immediately mistaken for my near namesake Fr. Brendan Smyth ! This has resulted in my being jumped upon by the Garda Siochana, stripped of my normal XXXXXXXL garb and decked out in dogcollar and clerical clothes.
As if that miscreant’s Y fronts would fit my I.
One cannot think why on planet earth one is subjected to this treatment.
In any case, it inevitably leaves one fleeing the country, by hopping in to the nearest taxi with run-flat tyres (based on the Presidential Cadillac 1, aka the Beast) with a blunt:
-Take me to Collinstown !
Alas, one finds oneself condemned to be driven endlessly around the roundabout at Collinstown, aka Dublin Airport. Or, at least as long as one is simultaneously sees oneself inside (gulp) the skin of D. O’Brien.
Although a Gulfstream G650ER can theoretically carry up to 18 passengers, this automatically both one’s inner Cyril Smith, MP and one’s inner DOB from sharing the same flight. Ever.
Hence the Mexican stand off at the Collinstown Care Home.
Trust you have your safety belt fastened, pk.
In the immortal words of ones’ bosom pal, the immortal Jimmy S.:
-Clunk, Click.
PS As to where one is going, one will tell you on one’s return.
Slan.
What brings the elderly into care homes………an elderly lady recently told me 2 reasons why…………….becoming a burden to their family & fear of being burgled & beaten up. IMO very valid reasons. There are good care homes, however, inspectors can become too friendly with the owners. Staff are vetted nowadays, but are owners, very often without a nursing background. Does care & profit marry well?. Yes, it can, but only if the providers are committed to their own business. It seems to me that care homes are now owned by groups who are definitely in it for the money. If it fails then that is entirely due to poor care standards & lack of investment. Care of the elderly is a growing industry as we live longer & therefore are more likely to develop dementia etc. Failure in this field is down to poor management & cutting corners.