Sunday, April 22, 2012

The Blue Room

I work with a very nice guy. His name is Randy. He’s six-foot tall, built like a biker (he does own a beautiful Harley), salt and pepper thick hair and wild eyes.When he walks into a room, he’s like a gust of wind blowing through a still meadow on a hot summer day. He tends to be boisterous when he talks, but I really like working with him because he has a good heart.

(I don't know why I'm describing him to you, but hey, you have a mental picture of him now, right?)

Last Friday at work, he was telling me about the "blue room." It’s a room in the Manor, which is a care facility for the elderly, where the residents go when their number is up.

"Can you imagine walking by that room every day, knowing that’s where you’re going to end up?" Randy said to me with a shudder. "It’s almost like cattle waiting in line to be slaughtered."

I was horrified when he told me that and made a vow to myself I would do everything in my power not to ever have my dad or step-mom go out like that. In fact, if I have the financial resources to make their last days on earth and their transition from this world to the next, a happy and wonderful experience, I will.

Nobody should leave this earth like the people going to the "blue room" does.

I understand each situation is different, and there are people who are so heavily medicated with Morphine, they’re not aware of the environment they’re in. However, I’d still make their environment peaceful and enjoyable, even if my loved one was in a comatose state. Instead of him or her hearing the sound of beeping machines and smelling the stale hospital air, I’d put some beautiful music on and fill the room with yummy smells. I’d even read to them.

Maybe I’m a dork for thinking this, but I believe people in a comatose state can hear and smell what’s around them. The reason why I believe this is because I was once in a coma for three days, and I remember hearing people talking around me and smelling the air. Of course, there are blind spots in my memory during those three days, so I don’t remember the entire time I was in the coma. But still, it would have been nice to have woken up in a much better, less frightening room.

I’m going to backpedal here because I don’t want the people who are reading this to feel bad if they do have a loved one in a nursing home, or have had a relative in one. I understand there are people who have Alzheimer’s Disease or dementia, and you have to put them in a care facility. That’s a totally different situation. I’m just talking about the people who still have their wits and are aware of what’s going on. Also, what I just said are my own personal opinions and beliefs. It doesn’t mean I’m right or wrong. It’s just how I feel.

Anyway, Kevin and I are fortunate enough that Alzheimer’s and dementia doesn’t run in our family, or cancer for that matter.

Well, my mom’s dad did die of lung cancer, so it does run in my family, but not on my dad’s side.

I’m babbling.

I know.

I’m just still stunned about the blue room.

It bothers me.

It really, really bothers me.

So much so if I ever have the time and power to change it, I will. I’ll call it "Operation Blue Room." So the people who are dying can have a wonderful, joyous experience, when they step out of this world into the next one.

Just thinking about it puts a smile on my face. :)
 
 
 

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