May something beautiful come from this pain and grief

As we watch the news and hope that this is a bad dream that will end soon, we cannot help but notice the attention being accorded to long-term-care (LTC) homes. Some of the news is heartbreaking, including a story in the Chicago Tribune that referred to these homes as “death pits,” where loved ones live and await the unknown every day. They are homes to our loved ones and as glum as they seem, beautiful things happen there, too. We have not seen this kind of spotlight on people who are our parents, our grandparents and people who served our countries with so much love and resilience.

While nurses and personal support workers have been working “short” for years and years, some heads were buried deep in the sand. Long-term-care (LTC) facilities have suffered vital worker shortages for years. On a normal day, PSW staff must provide care to eight to 10 residents within a shift. All these residents are either in a wheelchair, have multiple comorbidities that render them unstable and dependent, and others have neurocognitive deficiencies. To put it in words that are prevalent lately, long-term care has been working above the curve for years.

There have been staff shortages for as long as anybody working in long-term care (including myself ) can remember. When there is a flu outbreak, our residents lose their lives (not to belittle the effects of COVID-19). Somebody did not pay attention in time to protect our most vulnerable. It’s unfortunate the wake-up call has come painfully, but my prayer and that of thousands of nurses and personal support workers working in LTC is that this pain may yield something beautiful.

The front-line workers in long-term care may be overworked, but they report to work every day with renewed patience, grace and love. I watch beautiful things happen every day at work. Some things have gone unrecognized, unappreciated, underpaid, and sometimes blamed. I watched one young physiotherapist, who is reporting to work pregnant, help older adults walk, even knowing the threat of COVID-19.

I see PSWs holding hands of people at the end of their lives (even before COVID), not saying it will be OK, but providing a much-needed human touch until they take their last breath. Some will dash into the washroom to cry for residents they have known and taken care of for years, then walk out to help the next to shower. They hold their grief inside as if it is inappropriate.

Another beautiful sight caught my eye: One PSW (not young) called out residents for manicures amid the feeling of expecting the unknown. I noticed how the ladies for a moment forgot they have not seen their loved ones for months. I wished it was allowed that I could take pictures to send families to reassure them that their loved ones are OK, but since I cannot, I choked my tears and the fear of what may happen but savoured the moment.

Therefore, as we all continue dealing with the loss and pain of losing many lives and not knowing if this could have been prevented or not, we hope that the lessons from this carnage will not go to waste. Remember the “death pits” and the people who live in them and accord them the resources they deserve including training those who provide care to them with so much love and patience.

Front-line workers in long-term care may be overworked, but they report to work every day with renewed patience, grace and love