Bad Streak Not Acceptable

 

Upsetting is the word I would use to describe my feelings this week.  After the last two visits both which uncovered several mishaps at The Community*, I was called that laundry department had found some of mom’s night gowns.  Unfortunately, the streak continued on Saturday, when I stopped to see mom before attending a bridal shower.

 

Mom saw me and shook her head in frustration.

 

“What’s up, mom?”

 

Mom was tired; although her thoughts seemed clear, her speech is not. “Hospital gown  . . .  again last night.” 

 

“That’s not acceptable, mom.   I thought they found your nightgowns.”

 

“Two,” mom confirmed.  “Julienne . . .  take me  . . . room.”

 

I searched mom’s drawers only to find that mom was right. 

“I am not sure what’s been happening here lately, but I do not want you sleeping in a hospital gown. Mom, I will go shopping and bring you more nightgowns.  ”

“Don’t spend a lot of money,” mom commented.

 

“Mom, I just want you to be warm and comfortable.  I know you like long sleeves.”

 

“Yes . . .  make sure . . .  long sleeves.”

 

Mom’s skin is thin. Even wearing a warm top and sweater, she is sometimes still chilled.  I am so angry and sad to think mom is wearing a hospital gown which is paper thin to begin with when she goes to bed.

 

Mom is still complaining that no one answers when she presses her button at night. So I pressed the button and stepped outside her room to see that her light did go on.  I looked at my watch; I wanted to see how long the response time would be on a Saturday. 

 

In the meantime, mom said, “Check my pillows.”

 

Mom should have three of her own pillows.  Although three pillows were on her bed only one was hers.  I checked her roommates’ pillows just in case they were switched by accident; however mom’s was not to be found.  The oddity is that everything must be labeled that we bring in so somewhere mom’s pillows enveloped by white pillowcases are lying on another resident’s bed.

 

“Mom, only one of the pillows is yours.”

 

“I know; now  . . .   you believe me?” mom said frustrated.

 

“Mom, I always believe you.” 

 

As I looked over mom’s shoulder at her dresser, I saw something small moving.  My vision is not the sharpest so I looked closer and found mom’s room had unwanted visitors: tiny ants.  Initially I thought maybe there was one or two so I killed them as I found them.  But as I continued to move things around on the top of her dresser I encountered several more.  So I dialed the reception desk and spoke with Lori*; shared our ant problem and asked for maintenance to come up to take care of our undesirable situation.

 

Just then a cleaning person who overheard my conversation wanted to see the problem.  When I showed her, she said, “Yes, you have ants.  I’ll be right back with something.”   No one still had come to see why mom’s light was on.  As I started investigating, I saw ants not only on mom’s dresser, but on her roommate’s dresser.

 

The cleaning person came back shortly with her cart as promised.  She started to spray and wipe the furniture, I made sure to show her both dressers and the unwanted guests.  While she was cleaning, our first person, Kevin*, showed up to ask why the light was on.  The ironic thing is that Kevin* had just arrived to start work for the day and was passing by to put his stuff away.  I mentioned all the problems:  missing nightgowns, missing pillows, and ants. 

 

“I took care of ants,” the cleaning lady stated. 

“Your bug spray has no smell.  What kind do you use?”

 

“No bug spray just cleaner to remove anything sticky to get rid of ants.”

I turned to Kevin*, “I think we need bug spray.  I did not feel anything sticky.”

 

He assured me after he checked in he would be back.   A few moments after he left, a nurse came in to check on light.  I shared all the occurrences this morning.  She promised to call laundry to find pillows and nightgowns.  As I was talking to her, I noticed more ants on the floor.  I showed her.  She promised me she would call maintenance, too.  I informed her that I had the receptionist call them now over 45 minutes ago.  I was frustrated, but I assured mom that I would make things right for her.

 

On my way out as I passed the front reception Lori said, “Did maintenance take care of your mom’s room?”

“Still waiting for them; we still have not seen anyone with bug spray.”

 

“I called them over an hour ago.  I’ll call them again.”

 

As I left for my shower, I was concerned whether mom’s problems would be addressed properly.  No one seems to have answers at least not the right ones.