There is a lot to say about my experience of these. But this will suffice for now.
I would rather be dead than spend my final years locked up in an institution, run for profit and the convenience and pay packets of the in house guards and wardens. But that option is still sadistically withheld from those who wish it.
I just wish mum hadn't been condemned to an eternal present in the Rothouse. A place that I have seen doesn't care for her properly, that doesn't give us a shred of information about her.
We have no idea what she does. My husband queried this recently. After eight months there they agreed to send us a "gazette" of what the inmates do.
They act as though they own her. It's like school. At least in Scotland where the Scottish National Party policies show they view family as fundamentally dangerous, once the "professionals" take over, family counts for absolutely nothing. They have never once reached out to us to ask about mum's preferences, history, nothing.
Knowing they were going to take her away, I made sure she had dementia cuddly toys filled with her favourite music. When, a week later, we were able to see her, they still lay in their boxes. No one had even bothered to unpack them
No comments:
Post a Comment