Life is punctuated by random occurrences that to others might seem insignificant, but to you will forever leave its imprint on your memory.
Like the time you wet your pants at little Stevie's fifth birthday party, or when dad, panting as he guided you down the street, let go of your Stingray and you were finally pedaling without those damned training wheels -- or your first real kiss, or that rush you felt when you lifted that copy of Superman No. 214 from Thrifty's Drug Store.
Maybe it's the bittersweet feeling of being served divorce papers, or getting that envelope whose return address said Internal Revenue Service and sparked an anxiety attack that no amount of Xanax could stand up to.
These are the speedbumps of life that you often return to and either shudder or swoon in a momentary sense of nostalgic recollection. Although you can't escape them, you can learn from them.
At our Family Council Meeting Wednesday night in the conference room of the Motion Picture Home, we heard of an occurrence that left its imprint on my memory bank. I'm sure I'll be revisiting this bit of news for the rest of my life. You may think it insignificant. However, anyone whose life hinges on the easy access of relief when you "have to go" will surely get the old douchechills when you read on.
One of our esteemed elderly residents, who depends on the help of others to go to the loo, was refused such aid by two MPTF caregivers who were too busy eating lunch. This man, who is as alert and affable as anyone I know, is a vital and powerfully built ex-studio electrician that putts around the property in a mobile wheelchair. Shake his hand if you meet him, his grip is powerful and his gaze is steely. He is one of our own.
I was really shaken to think that this great man was denied assistance. I put myself in his place, and visibly squirmed in my seat as I imagined the denial of the most basic of reliefs.
The starkly visible degradation of the Motion Picture Home has trickled down from the board to those managers who are making the caregivers on the floor work with one hand tied behind their back.
It's obvious to me that the commitment has been lost at the management level, which leaves the poor staff dangling at the end of a rope where a rapid drop into the void of unemployment is a threat that they must deal with daily. The managers apparent disregard for basic human decency are fostering an environment where a sandwich reigns supreme over a full diaper.
The environment that we are fighting for has gone the way of many of the care centers that I railed against in the past. Those facilities that 'I wouldn't kennel my dog in' are about to welcome the Motion Picture Home to their dubious ranks.
This begs the question: What are you doing about this, Bob Beitcher?
What have you done to clean up your new digs? There are rats in the kitchens and eating areas.
