An easy remedy for seniors’ isolation
It’s human touch separated by a pane of Plexiglas.
It’s thinking outside the box — by erecting a coronavirus -proof box.
It cost less than a hundred bucks to slap together and only a couple of hours to construct.
Because at least one senior citizens’ residence in Canada has addressed the lockdown preventing residents from seeing their loved ones by exercising ingenuity. “Say hi to Bubbie, Jackson.” So urged John and Shawna of their three-year-old son on the weekend, seeing John’s elderly mum, in person, for the first time in ages.
Jackson was, admittedly, more preoccupied with killing ants underfoot. What’s more important, probably, is that his grandmother saw him. Spoke to him, as she did to her son and daughter-in-law. Was brought outside the Amica on the Avenue residence in midtown Toronto, bundled into her coat — makeup carefully applied — and delighted to communicate with her kinfolk again.
“It must be six weeks since we’ve seen her, although we see her on FaceTime,” said John. “It’s awesome what they’ve done here. Makes it easier at a tough time.”
The box is about four metres square. Families are allowed 45 minutes per visit, and staff scrub it down after every interaction.
“At least we can see her and talk to her,” said Shawna. “She was emotional to see us but she seems pretty happy.”
Before the pandemic acutely disrupted the normal course of events, in particular segregating residents of long-term care homes from families such that the elderly — COVID-19-positive or not — have been forbidden any genuine contact, this little clan visited grandma three or four times a week.
The notice at the front door of the building informs visitors that an outbreak was declared the first week in April. Only one resident — every occupant, every staff member having been tested — was found COVID-positive, isolated and recovered. Another may have had a false result and is still under quarantine in his room.
Among those who have family members in this posh, private facility is Dr. Philip Berger, inducted into the Canadian Medical Hall of Fame three years ago for his four decades as a physician and an advocate, especially in the treatment of HIV/AIDS patients and those with heroin addiction. Known once upon a time as the “hippie doctor,” Berger took on the medical establishment to crusade for needle-exchange programs and treatment for refugees and the homeless. He’s semi-retired now from St. Michael’s Hospital.
“No amount of social media communication like FaceTime can compare to having a physically close in-person visit inches away from a loved one,” Berger told the Star in an email. “This hastily designed and creative contraption allows family to be safely distanced but up close to loved ones” behind Plexiglas.
It might hamper voice transmission, he said, but “family members can still hear the voice, watch the facial expressions and gesticulations and share a laugh in the same intimate physical space.
“I understand it is an evolving project which needs fine tuning but you cannot let the imperfect get in the way of the good.”
John and Shawna have solved the muffled-sound problem by simultaneously using cellphones to talk. At too many long-term care homes in Ontario, residents have to request use of a phone or tablet from staff.
The idea to facilitate access by whipping up a kind of protective bubble — rather than essentially incarcerating residents to control infection — arose from discussions among Amica staff. The key question was “How can we do this?” instead of unilateral thoushalt-not edicts to toe publichealth authority directives.
“We asked ourselves, would this even be possible?” said Amica general manager Chris
Huggins. “And we realized, you know, this might actually work, we could make face-to-face visits possible.”
A few panes of Plexiglas, some plywood, some two-by-fours and voila — a COVID-buffering kiosk. It was put up last Monday. Families and residents have been grateful, many visits taking place over a warm weekend.
A little inventiveness goes a long way.
Yes, Amica — whose site on Avenue Road north of Eglinton Avenue was previously home to a church — is a swanky facility and expensive. The elegant units have terraces; there are tables and seating on the narrow outdoor grounds. But the container itself — it looks like a big penalty box — was cheap to construct, well within the means of even the most pennypinching profit-driven longterm care facility.
Here’s the thing: We’ve all been dismayed, outraged, by what’s unfolded in Ontario long-term care homes during this pandemic, with nearly 70 reporting outbreaks. Three care workers have died of COVID, including two in the past week. Clearly the profession is not highly valued. Just as clearly, too often, neither are those warehoused in these facilities. They’ve been dying alone, by the scores, denied human contact with their loved ones. Ottawa even tried to forbid window visits last week, although the mayor has asked for that cruel bureaucratic edict to be reversed.
Of course, the rot at the core of long-term care has long been known, if not aggressively addressed because that costs money, lots of it, and the modus operandi is cost-cutting. Old people are low on the depth chart of concern and fix-it commands. They end up with bedsores, lying on soiled sheets, left where they’ve fallen. Amidst the pandemic, some workers abandoned their charges, fearing for their own health.
These facilities have come into stark silhouette over the past two months. But many of those issues — insufficient staffing, poor wages for personal support workers, negligence, complaints about specific homes that were buried — have festered since we first began issuing licences to operate. They’re cash-cows, really, because there’s no cure for aging.
Under existing legislation, residents are guaranteed no more than two and a half hours of direct care a day, but we know many don’t get it. Bill 13 — the Time to Care Act — was introduced by Kathleen Wynne’s Liberal government. It would have compelled an average of four hours of personal support per resident per day — 2.8 million hours across the province, and created 30,000 more long-term care beds over 10 years. The price tag was $650 million.
Even though all parties supported the bill, it was allowed to die in 2018 after Wynne prorogued the legislature. And so it remains, as the system went all helter-skelter under attack by a ruthless virus. Shame on them and shame on us.