Trapped

A client of mine recently passed away.  He had not been a client for very long.  Less than a year.  He was in an aged care facility.  In my work I have been to quite a few of these place.  They are all the same, as soon as I enter these facilities I feel claustrophobic.  I can sense it, that feeling of being trapped.  I tell the person at the front desk who I have come to see and am lead down a bright white corridor, or several, until I reach the right room.  There is always a picture frame next to the door, for a picture of the person inside or their name.  The turnover must be high if they aren't even going to bother putting your name on the door and instead hope someone puts a picture of you in a frame.  I knock and enter.  More white.  The resident lays on a single hospital bed looking at a TV connected to the wall.  There is a chair next to the bed and a little cabinet in the corner of the room for what is left of their personal belongings.  Some are fortunate to have an ensuite, which is usually a showerhead over a toilet.

There is always a window.  It doesn't open so there is no fresh air, and most of the time the view is of another wing of the building.  Most of the residents have pictures up, and it is always pictures of family; spouses, children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters, parents, nieces and nephews and sometimes even their pets.  I like to look at the pictures, see the resemblances and while I never say anything, I wonder if any of these people come to visit.  I remember one client who covered her whole wall with pictures of her niece and grandnephew.  It was all the family she had, but her niece without fail visited every second day.  This woman was the happiest one I had ever seen.

I conduct my business with the client, I smile, I want to appear happy, I want them to know everything is ok.  But on the inside I can feel my claustrophobia building and my eyes darting for the nearest exit.  I smile and leave and walk back out.  There is no nurse to show me the way and I usually take a wrong turn and stumble into an activity room or a lounge.  The residents are lined up watching TV or playing bingo.  No one talks, no one smiles, and the nurses scuttle about making no eye contact.  

The worst places are the ones that have the doors looked.  You need to go to the front desk and request to be let out.  In those moments I instinctively reach for my throat.  I worry the nurse will say "No" and I'm trapped in a building with no fresh air and no way out.  I couldn't live in a place where I was locked in and trapped.  For all the decorated websites about how wonderful and comfortable these places are, you are still trapped.  And while I understand how important that is for some of the residents there, that claustrophobia is palpable.

My client was only admitted 3 months ago.  On his first day he managed to escape his room and they found him trying to climb the fence to escape.  He wanted out. I wonder if in that moment he gave up because he must have had quite a bit of stamina to achieve that feat.  Yet 3 months later and he is gone.  He must have felt trapped.  Maybe they all do.  Maybe that is why the turnover on the rooms is so high, because when you are locked up and trapped, what is there left for you to do with your life.