Home Place

            Fortified by the fine food and fellowship of a Christmas Tea at Nancy’s house, I was ready.  However, by the end of the day I was completely depleted.

            Recognizing Mom’s rapid decline, my brothers and I are trying to plan ahead, the sort of thing that no one wants to do.  We want to know the options for residential care, should the time come that we can no longer handle Mom’s care at home.

            So, on the basis of word-of-mouth and an Internet link, I was ready to meet with Wendy Sines, Community Relations Director, at Home Place to collect information and have a tour.

            Home Place is a facility for Alzheimer’s and dementia care.  It offers three levels of care, each level contained within a locked-down pod for 12-18 residents.  Each pod faces out to a connecting, secured outdoor courtyard with a pleasant lawn, shrubbery, and gazebo.  We started with Pod Two (pods are numbered by location, not level of care), the area for the highest-functioning of the residents.  Almost immediately, I saw someone I knew from church.  We visited a bit, and Wendy arranged for us to eat supper with her a little later.

            The semi-private bedrooms, each with its own half bath, are spacious and uncluttered, and the great room, where residents spend most of their time, nicely decorated for the holidays.  A large screen TV stands near one end of the room with couches and chairs around it.  Square tables for the eating area sit in the middle area with a kitchenette/work station behind.  The atmosphere is welcoming and pleasant, the staff calm and friendly.  From looking around and interacting with several of the residents, I quickly recognized that this would be the setting currently appropriate for Mom.

            I told Wendy that I would like to see the other two pods—something she had offered if I wished.  We walked in to Pod Three, the intermediate-level care section.  The floor plan of each pod is similar, which helps residents who need to move to more intensive levels of care to adapt more quickly.  Again, friendly staff, lovely surroundings—and people more obviously in the throes of dementia and physical limitations.  A very feeble gentleman began the slow process of standing up at his table.  Wendy went over to steady him, and an aide soon followed, gently coaxing him to sit down again.

            And then we went to Pod One, the area for those who require complete care.  A line up of comfortable chairs, recliners, and lift recliners face the eating area.  At this stage of dementia, people sleep a lot.  Most require hand feeding and pureed foods.  Seated at one of the dining tables was an ancient man, head bent down as he repeated “please help” in a firm baritone.  Repeated vocalizations such as this are not unusual.  We didn’t stay long, but Wendy greeted several residents by name.

            And then it was back to Pod Two for supper with G-- and E--.  The main meal is served midday, so the supper hour is lighter, usually soup and sandwiches.  A good minestrone soup, an egg salad sandwich on whole wheat bread, a scattering of potato chips, two tomato slices, and canned pears topped with cinnamon for dessert made for a pleasant meal. 

            G-- had Christmas card pictures of her daughters and their families to show me.  She wanted to tell me about the girls’ schooling and kept getting stuck at the same place:  the university names.  Eventually, most of the information came to her.  E--, who had been folding the cloth napkins before dinner, was quiet and seemed pensive.  She started sneezing and seemed embarrassed as she tried to stop.  And then, coming in late—roused from a long nap by the aide—came S--, a tiny, feisty woman with clear voice and much confusion.  Wendy patiently navigated the same track of conversation:  S-- was very disoriented after her nap and quite upset to find herself in a “boarding home” rather than her own home.  Introductions were made around the table several times, G-- and E--  patiently accepting of this turn of events, and when Wendy introduced the one of the staff members, S-- broke into song, an unfamiliar (to me) Broadway tune.  What a strong, nice alto voice!  We were all smiles, and S-- got a big hug after her song . . . which, evidently, she sings on a regular basis.  As the meal progressed, S-- seemed to settle in a little more, though still voicing her concern and confusion.  Her smile—with the way the bridge of her nose wrinkled and her eyes danced--warmed my heart.  I am sure she has always been a force to be reckoned with.

            Suddenly, I became very weary and mentioned to Wendy that I needed to go.  We said our good-byes to the women at our table and the other residents at the tables we passed by before we headed out the locked door.

            I picked up the generous bundle of informational materials Wendy had given me earlier, we talked a little bit more, and I headed out: glad and grateful that such a fine facility as Home Place is available here on Whidbey Island, and immensely sad over the thought that we may one day need to place Mom here.