Looking for a Place for Mom

During the past few days, I have been visiting assisted-living facilities in Long Beach. I have stepped into places that each one of us pass on our way to the office or the store or a bar, but never venture inside. It's a world I knew existed but never cared to explore.

First off, these places ain't cheap. Not by a long shot. To get anything decent and private, you're shelling out between $2,500 and three grand a month. That includes three meals and three snacks a day, emergency pull cords in every room, and more activities than you ever had at summer camp. Exercise classes, yoga, current events, shopping trips, breakfasts and lunches out on the town, church services, card games, bingo, crafts, sing-alongs around the piano, book discussions, excursions to the Getty Museum and to Catalina.

But looking at the sign-up sheets for these events, I saw few names. Most residents, it seems, choose to nod off in the lounge or hang out by the front door. Are they waiting for a daughter or son who never arrives? It's a chilling thought I couldn't get out of my mind.

One place I visited yesterday, the Crofton Manor Inn, reminded me of cheap motel. Everyone from the housekeepers to the director to the woman who grabbed my hand and wouldn't let it go seemed a bit off-kilter. The carpet was worn, the halls were dark, the rooms were even darker. The "deluxe" one-bedroom looked down onto a wall of razor wire and vibrated with rap music coming from the apartment building next door. My tour guide also showed me a studio shared by two women whose beds were lined up, headboard to footboard, against one wall that barely left room to walk to the toilet. I couldn't leave this establishment fast enough.

In the end, I have decided on Healthview's Pine Villa. The staff are friendly and professional. Everyone from the maintenance man to the cook to the director seem genuinely happy to be there. The dining area looks like a restaurant. And best of all, my mom's room is sunny and cheerful. As it's the model apartment, it's nicely furnished, and the director said she would let my mom use everything that's there at no extra cost, since she's moving from Wisconsin and doesn't have any furniture. She'll have a small bedroom with a twin bed, dresser, and night table; a breakfast nook/kitchenette with table, chairs, microwave, and fridge; and a living room with couch, end table, and rocking chair. Both the bedroom and the living room have an eighth-story view of downtown and a slice of the ocean. If this apartment were in a non-senior building, I sure wouldn't mind living there. Though it's $400 more per month than my second pick, the room is so warm and inviting that I am hoping this will make my mother's transition easier.

Each day I talk with her on the phone, she seems more and more anxious, frenetic, yet the physical therapist tells me she's doing well. I wonder if this anxiety is part of the whole getting-unhooked-from-the-pain-meds syndrome. She's basically going through withdrawals. My mother is the only junkie I've ever had close contact with, so I'm not sure about all this, but it sure seems that's what's going on.

The only subject of concern now is whether the skilled nursing home where she is currently residing will mark "dementia" on the forms that must be filled out and faxed back to Pine Villa. If that's the case, then my mother will be confined to a locked floor and given a roommate. No sunny, cheerful, private room. No privacy. And another $600 a month. I would hate to see this happen to her. Surely, it would be the death of her.