They Can't Be Everywhere

The other day, there was an incident in the courtyard at my husband's facility. I didn't realize how much it had affected me until just now, when I decided to write about it. Rerunning it in my mind, my heart rate increased. My breathing shallowed and sped up. Trauma. I think I might have a case of PTSD with the accumulation of stress. But back to my story.

It was a glorious fall day, sunny but not too warm, the golden sunshine peeking through the leaves that rustled softly in the gentle breeze. The Hubster and I were walking slowly, so very slowly, hand-in-hand, down the walkway to the main courtyard area.

Looking around, I noticed one of the new residents walking across the way towards the patio chairs that were in the sun next to the railing. I thought nothing of it. He picked up one of the chairs as if to move it to a shaded area closeby. I thought nothing of that, either, as it happens all the time. But then I saw that he wasn't stopping. He was going faster and faster and faster, a panicked look on his face. Realizing he was unable to slow down or stop, I started to run towards him. One of the caregivers also saw what was happening and was running from the opposite direction. Too late! As if in slow motion, I helplessly watched him trip before I or the caregiver could reach him. The chair flew from his hands, and over it he rolled. Slowly, so slowly, but also so, so quickly.

Before he could right himself to sit up, the caregiver and I had both arrived, comforting him as best we could and preventing him from trying to stand in case anything was broken. The nurse was called to assess his injuries; which, thankfully, turned out to be minor scrapes by bruises. He hadn't hit his head, but it had been a close call.

The staff at the facility is wonderful. The caregivers are compassionate and well trained. But they can't be everywhere, and they don't have eyes in the backs of their heads. It only takes an instant for something like this to happen. It can happen even if you're standing right next to a person. It's the downside of allowing the residents the freedom to wander, but the alternative would be absolute confinement and restriction.

It's bad enough to be locked in a prison inside your mind, as these folks are, without also being forced to stay in a wheelchair or in bed, in restraints, while they are still capable of moving about. That would be absolutely horrible. These residents are living the best lives they can under the circumstances. That's what I want for my husband, and that's what their loved ones want for them, too.