It is a bit more than a year after my father's death.
He was killed by a system and a facility which didn't care about him.
He was alone, without adequate attention, in a bed he could fall out.
As
a frail elderly man, with a touch of senility, he needed constant
attention, which he did not receive. Worst of all, he was separated
from all friends and family. My mother had been married to him for 65
years, and now, at the age of 89 suffering from physical weakness, he
was alone in a cold institutional setting where he had no one to really
talk to. (Oh, yes, occasionally a nurse was there---but only
occasionally.)
My mother would have gladly stayed with him, but the facility did not allow her to.
Moreover,
she was sternly lectured by some sort of accountant and a so-called
"social worker" who told her that they would keep my father in their
facility until his insurance account was empty. Oh yes, they used
different words, but it came to the same thing.
My father was only allowed to return home because we have a lawyer in the family, and he threatened the facility.
My father died at home, but he never lost that feeling that he had been abandoned and was alone. An uncaring facility killed him.
This
was predictable. If those who were supposedly caring for him did not
take the time to think about it, if their hearts have become so hardened
that they accept this sort of mistreatment as "normal", then that is an
indictment of the system of medical (don't) care.
In fact, I wish
they could hear the following story: When I was in Slovakia I read the
following story. A man was about to be executed by the Communists.
The executioner turns out to be a friend from childhood: "What are you
doing here?", asks the man about to die. "Well, it's hard to find a
job; I couldn't find anything else."
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
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