A Diminishing Portfolio of Enthusiasms
Everyone disperses
My mother’s room was on the third floor at Sunrise Senior Living.
The third floor is the memory care unit because everyone living there has some form of dementia, except my mother. Her body was shriveled up and mostly frozen from late-stage Parkinson’s disease, but her mind was sharp.
When we first moved to Nevada and I was choosing an assisted living community for my mother, Sunrise Senior Living stood out as the most beautiful and professional. But they only had two rooms available—one on the second floor, and one on the third floor.
My wife, a hospice nurse, recommended we select the third-floor unit.
“But that’s the memory care unit. Everyone there has dementia or some form of memory loss,” I told my wife.
“I know, but that means the staff-to-patient ratio will be higher. And since she can’t walk or leave her room, she’ll see the staff more. You know how social your Mom is,” my wife said.
My wife is brilliant.
We chose the third-floor room, and sure enough, Mom loved it. There were views of the mountains outside her bedroom window, and the staff loved visiting with her because she was outgoing and of sound mind.
