“By the time the nineteen-sixties rolled around, life in the “Near North” had greatly changed. The medical society had created better medications. OHIP, or OMSIP as it was first called, had been brought into play in 1966, and people could afford to get proper doctor care. Life in general had improved since WWII, and people were living longer.
Nursing homes had become part of this new era. The younger generations had no time to care for their aging parents. Women had taken to the work force and had careers. They were kept busy going to their jobs and running their homes on their time off. It had become a new lifestyle.
If the elderly had no one to care for them, and they couldn’t stay in their own home, they had to move into a nursing home, or home for the aged as some were called. It seems that our senior citizens were no longer an important part of the family unit.
Ma and Pa had had the luxury of dying in their own home. They had given the homestead to Colton after he had married Jane. They all lived together in that big old house that Pa and Ma had built to raise their big brood in. Pa died in his sleep in the bed in the room he had shared with Ma for near on seventy years. He had a heart attack, the doc had said. What a blessing for him and us as well. Though we were shocked at first, we realized that he had not suffered and had died in the comfort of his own home. Pa had always said that there was nothing better than a good old fashioned heart attack when your time came. Lot a truth in that, and that’s what took him.
Ma died within the year. I think she just gave up after Pa had left her. She mourned him till the day she passed. She just kind of withered away. In her last two weeks, she took to her bed. She was very frail and got so weak that she couldn’t eat. Jane and I were there and nursed her till her last breath. After the funeral, we laid her down beside Pa in her last resting spot. I felt relieved. They were together once again. I knew in my heart that that was what she had wanted.
Looking back now, I am glad that Ma and Pa were able to die at home. They were surrounded by their loved ones in the comforts of their own home. It was the home they had built together, raised their family in, and enjoyed for over seventy years. That doesn’t happen much anymore.
The first time I stepped foot into a nursing home was to visit my sister Rose. She was in her eighties by then. Her husband had died some twenty years earlier, and she had lived alone ever since. She had gotten very thin and frail. After a bout of pneumonia that put her in the hospital, she was not able to go home and look after herself.
Rose’s daughter had offered for her to go and live with her, but Rose declined. Her daughter lived on a farm out towards the Parry Sound area, and Rose didn’t know anyone else out there. She said that she felt that she would be too big a burden to her daughter, but I think that she just wanted to stay closer to home.
When I entered the nursing home, I felt like I had gone into a hospital. It had an institutional feeling. Everything was white. The walls were painted white, the curtains were white, the floor tiles were white, and the bedspreads on all the beds were white. It was very clean so to speak, and not real homey at all.
Rose shared a room with three other ladies. There weren’t any that made for good company. The woman in the bed beside her had had a stroke. She couldn’t walk or talk. The woman directly across from her couldn’t walk and was in a wheelchair. She had some sort of dementia. All her speech was garbled and she didn’t make a lick of sense. The other woman in the room was bedridden. She seemed to be in a vegetative state. She slept mostly and stayed in bed all the time. The nurses had to force her to eat. Poor soul, she would have been better off gone.
Rose wasn’t real happy there. The hospital people had painted a rosy picture about how wonderful it would be, but it sure wasn’t like they had described. She was quite disappointed. It wasn’t at all what she had hoped for. The room she shared was crowded. She had no place to bring any of her own furniture. A few pictures and clothing was all that she was able to fit into the small area that was considered her space.
Rose said it was very noisy there. All the constant commotion really bothered her. She said that it was even noisy at night. Some of the residents didn’t sleep well and were up and about during the wee hours. The nurses did rounds during the night and came into her room to check on two of the other women that had to be changed and turned. It always woke her from her sleep.
Rose had been living at home all those years on her own, so it had been very quiet. Even though she missed her husband terribly, she had learned to enjoy her solitude. She came and went as she had pleased, slept and ate when she had wanted, and made all her own decisions. Now she was in a place where everything was on a strict schedule. She was told when she had to go to bed, when she had to get up, and when and what she had to eat. They even made her have a bath on a certain day at a certain time. She said it was like a dictatorship, and privacy was pretty much nonexistent.
It really bothered Rose to see so many elderly people in such a frail and invalid state. It made her sad to be exposed to so much chronic illness. The ones with dementia upset her the most. Our generation was never exposed to the mentally retarded. They were hidden or locked up. Rose didn’t know how to react to them. They frightened her.
On one of those first visits, I recall Rose saying that one of the other residents had referred to the nursing home as a house of death. That was disturbing to her. I remember thinking to myself at the time that it was the truth. Everyone who moved there was there to die. It was a sad thought, but the truth all the same.
Poor Rose! I know that she was depressed. What a terrible place for her to spend her last days. I think she should have gone to her daughter’s home. Perhaps she had even thought that herself, but she never mentioned it. She was a very proud woman and didn’t want to be a burden.
I tried to visit every chance I had. I know that Colt and Jane stopped in quite often, too, as did Eva and Dawn, and her daughter came out once a month for a good visit. Her boys made the trip when they could. We all tried to get her outside or take her for a short car ride when the weather permitted. She loved to drive out to the old homestead.
Rose did say that the food was good. They had a good cook there, and everything was homemade. It was good to know that she was eating well. I don’t think that she had been eating so good when she was at home. It’s kind of discouraging to cook for one. I know that from experience.
The nursing home also had a good activity schedule. There were some real nice gals that ran that department. They did all sorts of crafts, played cards, and had different groups come in to provide entertainment. Rose enjoyed all of that.
There were a few other people who had come from our neck of the woods that also lived there. Rose knew them well and liked to visit with them. It comforted her somewhat, and as time passed, she got to know a couple of the other ladies, and they became friends.
After a time, Rose succumbed to the fact that this would be the place where she would end her days. She never really adjusted to the strict scheduling of everything, but she got used to it. It was never home to her, but she accepted the fact that she could not go home. Rose eventually got to know most of the staff. She became quite close to some of the nurses. She obviously had her favourites and talked about them fondly. I know it made her day when the ones she loved were working. You could see it on her face when they came into her room to help one of the other ladies.
I know Rose looked forward to our visits. We often reminisced about our childhood days. She was the oldest girl in our family and was twelve when I was born. She was a wonderful big sister and had lots of patience with us younger ones. Rose often had the responsibility of watching us youngsters. I know she had had her hands full with me and the twins. We had been quite the little characters. Life had been somewhat different for her growing up being that she had been that much my senior. She was off and married by the time I started school. She was starting her own family by then. They didn’t live that far away though, and visited on a regular basis.
Rose remembered things and knew about stuff that I had been too young to recall. It was interesting to listen to her talk about those subjects. It seemed to lift her spirits as well. It’s funny how old people just love to talk about old times. Seems like it’s what we know best. Anyway, Rose didn’t have to endure life at that place very long. A flu bug did its rounds in the nursing home the first winter she was there. There were quite a few of the residents who couldn’t rid themselves of its illness. It had a tight hold on them, and they eventually perished. Rose was one of them.
It brought me deep sadness to see her go. We had been a tight family, and all us children had remained close as the years had passed. It had been hard to see Ma and Pa go, but it was even harder to say that last good-bye to my siblings as they each passed.
Virginia Rose McCherny (Hayes) was born in 1885. She died in 1972 at the age of eighty-seven. She was the second child and eldest daughter born to Chase and Beth Hayes. She was a child of one of the original pioneer families. She was part of a generation that endured great hardships, and paved the way in order to create the lifestyle that we enjoy today. Rose was part of an era that has long since passed, but should never be forgotten!”