The Register Citizen (Torrington, CT)

The view from inside a nursing home’s walls

- By Alyssa Cohen Alyssa Cohen lives in East Hampton.

I am writing to you in response to the numerous articles and television news stories covering the COVID-19 pandemic’s effect on skilled nursing facilities throughout the state. It is heartbreak­ing to read the villainiza­tion of the facilities that are fighting on the frontlines in this pandemic. We see the health care heroes of the hospitals, the delivery serviceman, store employees and dentists. And yet, the frontline workers of skilled nursing facilities are torn to shreds by the media, some from the community and the government. I am writing in the hopes that people may understand the reality inside the nursing facilities during this pandemic.

I am a proud employee of a skilled nursing facility. I have never loved working anywhere more — so much, in fact, I have spent most of my career as an employee here. Many of my colleagues can say the same, many of whom have been here 30 or more years. Many may ask why we would want to be employees for a nursing home. It is an easy answer: it is a calling.

I have had the opportunit­y to work with the most talented team of profession­als, many with high education and the ability to work in more wellrespec­ted establishm­ents, including hospitals. But they do not. They choose to work in skilled nursing facilities. They choose it because it’s their lifework, and they love the residents that have become part of their extended family. The same could be said for most employees of any skilled nursing facility.

We watched as this pandemic closed in on our state, watching in fear as the storm clouds closed in. We all prepared as best we could, scouring the earth for protective equipment, working constant hours in preparatio­n to withstand the tidal wave that has hit our state. In so many facilities, there are incredible and talented teams that prepared for it to the best of their abilities, but nothing could possibly prepare your facility for what comes — a devious, silent and lethal virus that creeps in and ransacks your residents despite locking down the facilities like Fort Knox. Every precaution taken; every screening tool used. But alas, it sneaks its way in through the back door. Even the best facilities in the state have been under siege — by the virus, by the government and by the media.

So as you watch the horrific physical and emotional toll it’s taking on the hospital workers, think also of the horror of caring for and watching someone you have provided care and protection to for years that have become a member of your family contract, suffer and die from this vicious virus. All the while, you are completely helpless in preventing their death after they’ve contracted it.

Doctors, nurses, nursing assistants, therapists, dietary staff, housekeepi­ng, maintenanc­e workers and administra­tive staff have been infected, brought it home to their families and some have lost their lives. The overwhelmi­ng question that you cannot help but ask is: will I be next? And when you have finished your 16-hour shift, watching those who you love suffer, decline and die in a matter of days, and have finished your daily episode of crying from exhaustion, fear and from grief, you turn on the television or read in the paper what a poor job you’re doing.

What isn’t shared with you is that many employees cross the facility for a variety of reasons — the first person who may contaminat­e a facility may be a staff educator who has no idea she contracted COVID-19 while at the grocery store and is asymptomat­ic. Or perhaps, a dietary aide, a nurse — truly anyone can be the carrier, and not know. And despite properly putting on and safely removing PPE, a small contaminat­ion can spread like wildfire before anyone even knows it is even there. That is the reality of the virus. Factories are contaminat­ed across the country; patients are becoming infected while in the hospitals for other reasons. And only skilled nursing facilities are taking the spotlight. It is cruel and unjust.

We are working in fear of our own lives, our family’s lives, in fear of losing any (or more) of our beloved residents, losing our friends and co-workers. We are watching the people we care for and love succumb to the virus while holding their hands while they take their last breaths on this Earth because their families are unable to. We care for the thousands of nursing home residents across the state and do whatever it takes to keep them as safe as we possibly can. We are doing whatever it takes to connect our resident’s families to them and comfort their families while fighting back our own tears. We will show up. We will care for our residents, no matter the infection, no matter the risk, no matter the cost and no matter the criticism. We will never give up. We are heroes, too.

We are working in fear of our own lives, our family’s lives, in fear of losing any (or more) of our beloved residents, losing our friends and co-workers.

 ?? Hearst Connecticu­t Media file photo ?? An ambulance used to transport a patient is parked outside a nursing home in Bridgeport.
Hearst Connecticu­t Media file photo An ambulance used to transport a patient is parked outside a nursing home in Bridgeport.

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