In my last article, in the July issue, I ran off topic a bit, reminiscing about The West Side Tenants Union etc., but I will stay on topic this time, I promise!
This series I am writing centers on Elder Abuse, or at least, my experience with Elder Abuse.
The Call Button is a devise/contraption that is slightly bigger than a bar of soap. It is held in one hand. It is used to call the Nurse’s Station, for help.
By pushing the red light button, the nurse’s station microphone is activated. Someone on call at the nurse’s station receives notice. Whomever is available answers and may possibly say any of the following (or worse):
“How may I help you?!”
“What do you want Ms. Omari?!”
“What is it NOW?!”
“How may I help you NOOOOOOOOWWWW?!”
“We were just there a minute ago!”
“What can I do for you?!”
“What do you want SARA?!!!”
One night I called for help. The person at the desk said, “NOOOOOWWWW WHAT?!”
Another staff member asked her “Who is calling?!”
The person who answered the call said, “342R, Sara”.
The other staff member then replied “Oh Shit!”
I replied, “I heard that……”
The device call button also allows you to hear the conversations and/or gossip of the staff members if the microphone is accidentally left on at the nurse’s station.
I have heard a lot of gossip I would rather not have heard over the years.
Sometimes the call button is answered in 5(five) minutes – 30(thirty) minutes. One time it was almost 3(three) hours! Approximately 3 years ago, I was trying to turn over in bed by holding onto the rail with my good hand. My leg went over the bed, which in turn pulled my body on to the floor. I am glad the bed was low to the floor, which prevented a bigger accident. I had to lay there for over 2 hours before anyone came.
I have great fear around the call button issue, because I am helpless, being partially paralyzed. I need assistance very often. Falling, diabetic reactions, the “trots”, even just turning over in bed, are a few of the instances I really depend on the help.
God damn Sara you should not be so negative!
by Sarah Omari