Part of
the reason simple-minded regulations like that and so many more are
enforced here (other places, one I'm personally familiar with, don't)
must have something to do with the "highly trained" State
(all hail State!) inspectors appearing quite often. I don't recall
that being a problem at Macclenny.
Another
is the residents themselves. One would expect some degree of mental
incompetence among the residents. However this place, SHCC, has a
huge percentage, possibly greater than 90 per cent, that are true,
slack-jawed, mouth-breathing, drooling, brain-dead, former human
beings in need of protection from themselves. The wailing, moaning,
and screaming of these creatures is unnerving at the least and surely
must account for the lack of visitors; i.e., Aunt Flossy has been
locked up here due to her being a distraction to her "family"
and her "family" feels guilt (and foreboding) about
visiting. ...kinda like visiting an insane asylum. Remind me to tell
the story about Aunt Dot. Except for lobotomies, mental health has
pretty-much the same rules and the same treatments (unless the
"doctor" is a hindu) as it did in the '50's.
One
instance is 91 year old Ralph, a combat vet of the south Pacific
during WW 2, a farmer, then a deputy sheriff for 35 years with a
clear, rational mind, still house-broken, and literally dumped by his
son and daughter at the facility for their convenience. Ralph is hard
of hearing, lacking very acute vision, and needs a bit of help. He
can't play bingo, enjoy balloon-toss, savor the Rev. Dogbreath's
wonderful, inspiring sermons about how good it's gonna be to be dead,
and other mind-numbing "activities" due to his poor hearing
and vision. He just needs a bit of physical help now and then and
mostly, someone to talk to.
Another
was 89 year old Edgar, a life-long citizen of his birth county, a
school teacher, then superintendent, and nearly (by 50 votes!) a
state representative. His mind was fully intact and it would be very
demeaning and boring for him to be playing games he gave up as a
small child. They were the only things offered so he had to settle
with reading and conversation with me. It could have been worse, he
could have been here.
Edgar
had been getting along well, had graduated back to walking with a
cane after prostate surgery left him crippled (hindu "doctors?"
I've buried two under-60 friends, one with headaches killed by the
exam, the other by a blood clot during elective surgery, and have had
others much younger permanently crippled by same) and back to his
cheerful self, anticipating going home to his life. One day at lunch
which we always had together, a pair of shall-be-unnamed employees
were talking about Edgar behind us with one expounding loudly (her
normal voice) that Edgar was never to be released, no explanation
given. It comes to mind that since he had no living relatives and was
zero problem for the staff as he was fully self-sufficient and the
$82,000 + the State (all hail!) paid annually for his 8' by 12'
double-occupancy (I was the other) cell, that the joint would really
not like to loose him.
Edgar's
face didn't just fall, he turned absolutely gray. The knowledge that
he was probably going to die in that place of no memories with
nothing lasting to experience as each day was identical to the
previous, was a lot to swallow. Hell without the flames on earth. An
absolute zero for life.
His
life changed radically from that moment on. His habit of waking with
such a positive outlook and, after a bit of warm-up (boy, do I know
about that!), began a cheerful day. Now he could barely get out of
bed and even that became impossible. He would fall on the floor and
became too uncoordinated to even sit up. For more indignity, he
became incontinent and would urinate all over the cushions put on the
floor to soften up his falls. I would assist him to get sitting
upright out of the puddles and get something to help with a little
decorum while going for help getting him tended. I wished I could
help more, however a half-paralyzed, 120 pound man is not very
useful.
I read
his obit this year. He died three years after the above took place
and in the nursing home without any family or friends.
His
worst nightmare.
It must
be tough working for a place like this and, observing the tremendous
turn-over rate, it is. Even if the pay was high which I doubt, I
doubt if it would be mentally healthy to remain very long.
Try
it 24/7, 365 days a year. If one is sane upon arrival, only an
extreme effort of will, will keep one sane. If a resident is
cognizant, he's normally doped up, therefore as useless for
conversation as the true droolers. One fake "doctor" even
doubles-up on downers to keep the cognizant as wasted as the
brain-dead. I could have strangled the bastard went he "ordered"
a heavy narcotic doubled without a roomie having asked for it. It did
a fine job of finishing that young man off mentally. He went on to do
the exact same thing to another roommate, not so much as a cursory
exam. To cap this off, that god-damned, worthless, creature added one
to my required meds. He's been at the same crap for over 30 years.
You see, my wife and myself went to see him in his "capacity"
as a marriage councilor. See Who
Let That Thing In? for
more. Institutionalized medical malpractice. Complete incompetence.
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