Sir, – I went to bed at night with tears in my eyes having read Dr Jacky Jones’s column (HEALTHplus supplement, June 21st). They were tears of disbelief, anger and indignation at the way Dr Jones had attempted to equate present- day nursing home care with the barbaric, inhuman conditions of the Magdalene laundries, industrial schools and orphanages.
Dr Jones maintains we will look back in 30 years’ time in horror and wonder how we thought nursing homes were an acceptable model of care. If I’m alive in 30 years’ time, and if my memory is still intact, all I will remember is the respect, kindness and unstinting care and attention that my Dad received, and my Mum continues to receive in Brookfield Care Centre, a nursing home on the outskirts of Leamlara in Co Cork.
I fully accept Dr Jones’s contention that almost all older people would prefer to live at home rather than moving to a nursing home. As a family we had done everything to keep my parents safe and well in their own home.
But even with the unstinting support of relatives, home helps, public health nurse and medical staff, our best efforts weren’t good enough. We were physically and mentally at breaking point and yet our parents continued to deteriorate before our eyes. We couldn’t give them the 24-hour expert care and attention they needed and deserved.
The move to Brookfield Care Centre was traumatic for everyone, but little by little my Dad started to pick up and improve. Every effort was made by the staff to help them adjust and fit in. Mum thrived with her bingo sessions and musical afternoons. Dad loved to sit with her in the foyer reciting the Rosary and greeting all-comers.
Sadly my Dad’s health deteriorated significantly last summer and it was clear that he didn’t have long to live. The nursing home owner bent over backwards to ensure that my father’s last days were spent in his own bed in the place that had become his home. The compassion and love that was showered on my father, my mother and ourselves during that most difficult time by the management and staff at Brookfield is something we will always treasure.
When my Dad died, the staff and some of the residents formed a guard of honour as the coffin was carried out the front door. It is a custom that is observed for every resident, because at the end of the day Brookfield Care Centre is not a business, or an institution, it is a community. The bonds that develop between staff and residents run very deep.
Some residents can no longer articulate their feelings in words but it is there in the smile, the hand clasp, the shared laughter. I have seen staff members hold back the tears as residents with little speech or memory suddenly start singing verse after verse of their old favourite song or recite a poem from their childhood.
During the sub-zero treacherous conditions of last winter, nurses, care workers, cleaners, chefs, laundry workers and office staff, all took their life in their hands to make their way to Brookfield because they couldn’t countenance letting the residents down. Even the most dedicated family members were afraid to venture out on the icy, country roads but all the staff reported for duty. Often they stayed overnight to ensure 24-hour cover for the residents. They showed the same dedication during an outbreak of the winter vomiting bug earlier this year.
Sometimes I come away from the nursing home broken-hearted by what Alzheimer’s is doing to my mother. But mostly I come away humbled by the kindness and goodness that is part and parcel of life in Brookfield Care Centre. – Yours, etc,