Jesuit Priest Suffers at Hands of Rest Home Staff Urged on by Unit Manager

  

      The year was 2013, this writer had been a nurse nearly three years when they encountered a situation in a long term care setting that almost inspired the writer to quit nursing altogether.  The situation involved a young Jesuit priest who was actually in the last 14 months of his life unbeknownst to anyone at that time.

      Having had early-onset Parkinson’s since 48 years old, the 62 year old Jesuit was losing control of his motor functions which caused him great fear and anxiety. His muscles would freeze when the Sinemet wore off causing his body to collapse where ever despite his frantic efforts to get to safety.

      Two weeks before the Jesuit priest came to us, the Unit Manager called a meeting to inform the staff of his coming. She made it clear that he was a “handful” and we had to form a “united front to keep him inline”. We did not know what to think about this crazy patient. She explained that he was “an ungodly, unpriestly priest known for seeking out the weakest link so he can get his way. He is maniacal and manipulative.” We were not to give into his demands according to the unit manager. For this writer, such statements seemed wrong, especially coming from our nurse leader, the Unit Manager.

       Two weeks later, the priest arrived without any medications. His belongings had been thrown into his room earlier. He was in a wheelchair seated in the dining room when soon after the meal, his head slumped to the table and he began to call out. This writer did everything to make his admission as safe as possible. It took the writer and a GNA with the Hoyer lift 15 minutes to extricate his rigid body from the wheelchair. The first night was rough but the patient was made as comfortable as possible with great detail to respect and safety by this writer.
       Unlike the average patient- the frail 87 year old with dementia, Father's language was intricate, festooned with complicated adjectives and highbrow words that my staff did not understand. He also spoke German, Latin, Italian, Russian, Greek, French and Hebrew…fluently.  Father was younger, very alert and had solid muscle. He moved quickly and independently unless the medications wore off, turning him to stone.

      Some felt Father was faking when he would abruptly collapse then call out for help. Father was fearful of  being paralyzed and lying in cold urine for hours waiting for help. Due to the constant violent tremors he was always ravenous: hence, the bland, meager portions of institutional food could not satisfy the caloric requirements of the disease.
   
        Anyone could see Father appeared very frustrated as he inventoried his losses. Once a brilliant keyboard player, the violent tremors caused by too much medication rendered his hands useless causing him to pound them on the piano until he was able to bang through a bar or two of a complicated piece. He would demand to be taken to the piano at times when his arms and feet could not propel the wheelchair. A few times he had fallen in this writer’s presence but he quickly leapt to his feet and begged it not be recorded as he would be forced to stay in a Geri chair against his will.

      Slowly, like the gentle rain before a storm, the unethical treatment began, first small things like throwing away Father’s food in the refrigerator the day after it was ordered. Then, it was kitchen curfew for Father yet any other patient could eat late snacks. Some staff like this writer, continued to help Father get food and made sure he ate it against the Unit manager’s orders. The storm began to rage with peppered arguments over medications.

    Unlike other patients, whenever Father asked for a short acting medication the med tech argued with him. One time she screamed at him, calling him names and cussing at him "I'm tired of your shit!" in front of the dining room of other patients. Father had to beg for an immediate release Sinemet to keep him going until the long acting meds kicked in. The med tech was not written up for publically humiliating Father despite this writer’s intervention and report to management.

     Other patients were permitted visitors in their rooms, but not Father. The Unit Manager quickly severed ties when she learned that Father had been joining a former priest he knew from Rome. The former priest came to visit his mother for dinner and movies in her room and both had enjoyed Father's company. When the unit manager found out, she forbade them to associate with the Jesuit.

     Father was devastated. He wept when he informed this writer. Slowly, Father had been isolated, his food reduced to the meager slop with no additional snacks or whole foods required for the Parkinson’s. Staff was permitted to harass him. The aides who had sided with the unit manager intentionally waited until he was frozen to ask if he wanted a shower, knowing full well he had to decline due to immobility. Cursing at him, calling him a liar, making him wait for help and forcing him to beg for his medications became acceptable behavior for the staff per the Unit manager. We were told to be a united front or else there would be consequences.

       Despite the weekly scourging from the unit manager, this writer continued to fight for Father. Father was fed, clean, bathed, shaved, shampooed, medicated and engaged in conversation, humor and prayer. When it became apparent that Father had no rights, this writer contacted Social Work who agreed and tried to do something. Nothing came of that.  Being a faith-based facility, it only seemed right to get the in-house Priest involved, so Writer contacted the Priest expressing the abuse in an email confession, yet he did nothing. Father continued to suffer terribly.

        A harsh work environment was created by the unit manager in an effort to purge this writer from employment. Yet, this writer held firmly to her beliefs and high moral standards. She broke the united front rules by continuing to advocate for Father, feed Father, bathe, visit, respect, honor and medicate Father. The unit manager threatened other staff into submission. Most had feared for their jobs and did as she ordered. Not this writer who just could not go along with the abuse, despite the threats.

      Together the unit manager with her minions concocted a plan to have the writer fired. After three harsh months of harassment the group effort worked and this writer was expelled. Father was devastated. Despite the false charges, the writer's nursing license had no blemishes because they had done nothing wrong. It was not against the nursing laws to feed a hungry patient or to treat them with dignity and respect.

       Father had no voice because his family was across the country and the Jesuits were very busy caring for their other infirm priests. Even the Ombudsman was told that the writer was a threat to his life and was forbidden to see him. Yes, the writer’s reputation was trashed to the point that the Ombudsman, the Jesuits and the family actually believed the unit manager at one point. Truth will always surface.

       Eventually Father was bed ridden with a peg tube for nutrition  . Before being expelled, this writer had gone over the on call’s head to get a life-saving IV fluid bolus after the staff had injected Father with Haldol sending him into Neuroleptic malignant Syndrome- confirmed by his doctor who then rushed him to the hospital during rounds the next day. The day nurse had cussed out the writer, saying they should have let him die despite his Catholic beliefs and verbalized and written wishes to live. That nurse also hissed that she was not going to give him the necessary water flushes which later dehydrated him.

     Father had lost 60 pounds in five months and their excuse was “patient was refusing the food”. Father was kept over-sedated and suffered from forced dehydration as staff refused to give him flushes- all supported by the unit manager. After being expelled, this writer continued to fight for Father by contacting the  Board of Nursing, The DHMH, EEOC and an attorney. Father died nine months later asking to see his nurse. He was dehydrated and kept over-sedated until he gave up.

This story is based on an actual events that went unpunished. Senior Citizens are at great risk of Elder Abuse despite the governing policies written to protect them.

                                                       OUTCOME

     The EEOC reported that the facility and the unit manager were guilty of abuse, neglect, harm, false imprisonment, chemical restraints and possibly manslaughter but because of their documentation, the patient was made to look like he was refusing and resisting care, treatment, food and medications. Nobody sued for the near death Neuroleptic Malignant Syndrome, nor did anyone fuss over the fact that the priest had no rights. The facility had known just how far to stretch the truth over the broken laws in order to get away with it.

     The DHMH did investigate the facility for a month and found the patient was chemically restrained, forced dehydration and starved. The facility did receive a few tags and the staff responsible for this atrocity had a few demotions but nothing more. The unit manager’s husband was a state politician.

The unit manager and her united front ganged up on the patient and the person who had tried to advocate for him. That person was naive to how it all works but knew it was not right. New nurses are often afraid of their superiors and are not quick to go over their heads. In this case, it was too late but the State did investigate.

                                    VIOLATIONS IN THIS CASE
1. Rights-based ethics that stresses the individual’s rights (Fremgen, 2016). Not practiced by the staff. Pt had no rights to choose treatment, food or Medications.
2. Duty-based ethics- “our actions should be universal which means that everyone would act the same way with the same set of circumstances” (Fremgen, p,11, 2016).
3. Justice based ethics: “the veil of ignorance” to prevent the decision makers from being biased (Fremgen, 2016).
4. Virtue-based ethics- the unit manager singled out the priest and dehumanized him which is against the laws of man and God. She did not practice virtue-based ethics. There were facts and evidence, witnesses and statements that could have put her in jail had this gone to court.

                                    CONCLUSION: Lessons Learned

       A  unit manager is accountable for how the staff treats patients and he/she is not above the law. The proper chain of command does not always work; in that case contacting DHMH or MBON or another governing body for suspected abuse, neglect and violation of patient rights must be done. There are no laws against great, compassionate care. Persons who have mental issues that affect their ability to make sound, ethical decisions should not be permitted to manage staff, especially in patient care facilities.

References:
Fremgen, B., (2016). Medical law and ethics, 5th edition. Pearson. Boston, MA



     

The Small Box Gathering Dust

The small cardboard box sat quietly on the old dresser, collecting layers of dust. Inside the box was a shiny silver pin attached to a blue and white ribbon. The ribbon rested on top of a palm-sized, white ceramic lamp. It had taken almost four years of pain, turmoil and self-sacrifice to achieve the contents of this box. What lay inside was just a symbol of an institution that represented healing and compassion for the masses of the sick and dying. It was a place among the angels for the bearer of this lamp. It was an achievement certain to bring financial freedom and spiritual fulfillment to its holder. This lamp was to shatter the darkness with its gentle light.... but now what had symbolized a human extension of God's grace and mercy, was no more than a piece of junk littering the dresser top and gathering dust.

What had truly happened, only God knows. Perhaps one day, the box will be dusted and its contents set out on a desk to be displayed. But for now it will sit and collect dust......

God's will. What is that? I never knew for sure but only that He always seems to push me in directions I care not to go. Those places are difficult, butt-busting and laborious. I never get what I want, but I do get what I need and then there is positive growth. Now at times this is so annoying because I did not plan on this nor did I want to do this or even want this, but it turned out well. Sweet but also aggravating- kinda like the relentless "I told you so's" your parents shower you with after you made a dumb mistake. They had seen it all along as you blindly resisted, but in the end, you sit back and say, "wow, glad I did not...whatever.."  So it is with God's Will.  ;^)

Things seem shrouded in mystery. Just everyday stuff like will I get to work without some asshole crashing into my car? Will my kids get home safely? Why is it that no matter how hard I plan and work, things go in some weird direction anyway? Case in point- this stupid cardboard box of dreams I worked so hard for that now just gathers dust.

Nobody knows God's ways except to say they are mysterious. Now that irks the hell out of me. Tells me nothing more than I already had surmised. Whatever.

I have been told that some people followed my facebook posts over the years while I was slaving after that box. They had told me it brought them hope and inspiration. How could that be? I was nothing special. Just a servant who was saved by God's grace, put her sinful ways aside and focused on doing His work. I was not proud of my past but it is the foundation of what I have become. We all have a platform of sin that can be surrendered and used to build a good house, or be kept for a bad house that crumbles. This all depends on one's own choices.

Sin just sucks. Oh it is gratifying for a while. You take what you want- how much and whenever. Who cares about the heads stepped on to get your goals achieved. Sin is easy. One can really go far being selfish and
deceitful. I never went for the monetary gains as much as I went for the possession of someone's soul. It was more important to prove my sense of self worth by getting somebody to give up everything for me. Wow was that selfish! So the sin was fun for a time and I got what I had wanted but along with the broken person I took, came a life of misery and suffering- just the price to pay for that tasty morsel. Stupid satan was probably laughing his dumb ass off as God shook His head in sorrow.

Back in 1989, I had woke up in a drunken stupor only to find a startling discovery. There was blood in my bed and a razor. My wrist was nicked up and hurting. Sometime during my "blackout" my hands were on auto pilot,  busily trying to carve out an artery. Holy hell!! I had no recollection of this, but there it was-  the profound evidence! If I continued to drink later that night, my suicide attempt just might be successful. I was terrified. I needed help but I had no power over alcohol. It was certain, inevitable death for me if I continued on. The man named Christopher who had badgered me to get sober was only a phone call away. Stumbling, head pounding and sick I fell to the floor crying, "God please save me... I will do anything you want if you will just save me, please,  I promise!!"

The phone call went through. "Will you be okay for ten minutes?", the man asked. My answer was a yes. And true to his promise, Christopher came and hauled me off for coffee and AA. I went to eight AA meetings that day. The desire to drink always hit around seven pm, so I really had to surround myself with strength around this time. For the next few days I experienced severe withdraw, complete with the DT's,  projectile vomiting, sweats and headache. Christopher stayed close at hand to be sure I could get through. The process was painful but eventually went away. Even my swollen abdomen shrank as the liver got to repair itself.

When I take care of an "Etoh Withdraw" patient it amazes me how I had survived my own painful withdraw with out the medical interventions of today. This makes me thank God even more. Alcoholism is a disease and it does not care who you are or your social standing. It will kill you.

Well, the hours turned into days and the days into weeks.. weeks into months and then months into years. Years became decades. My sobriety is a gift and a choice. I can drink if I want to... but I choose not to. We all have our reasons for picking up the booze. Mine was a date rape back in a time when women did not come forth unless they wished to be humiliated in court. I lived with the shame for tens years before I told my parents. My dad had been a police chief in the town where I grew up. It was one of his auxiliary police officers who had done the deed. I am sure this man has no idea how much it had ruined my life for many years. It even helped destroy two marriages and drove me to drink and do cocaine when I was in my twenties. January 8, 1989 was a day that changed my life with the grace of God.

Yes, I have forgiven this man in my heart and asked God to be merciful. I have not seen him since the incident in 1979, nor do I want to. But if he is out there- DW thank you for making me who I have become. Because of your deed, I understand the deep pain and suffering of rape victims. My pain is still there but it manifests in a form of compassion that gives the victim a being to trust. In my short career of EMS, I have transported many young rape victims to pyschiatric facilities. They have come to learn- they are not alone and that there is hope of healing if you want it! All I can say is- PRAISE GOD.

So as my cardboard box gathers its dust, I can only sit and wonder... what is God's Will here? In retrospect, it has been proven over and over again to me that He is always there. His Will, mysteriously, will become obvious in the time to come. He must have seen me struggling with the newly achieved contents of the cardboard box. With a wave of His hand, my obligation to my employer vanished, I got two weeks vacation pay and time off with my family. Miraculously, my chest pains have gone, my blood pressure is within normal limits and I am re-discovering the joy of just being a mother, an artist, EMT and a servant of God. All of this had been sacrficed to get that damn box!

So in the higher scheme of things, it is okay to allow the box to gather some dust. God's Will prevails whether I like it or not, but true to my promise, I will strive to do His will for the rest of my life on earth. He is pushing me in directions I do not care to venture alone. With His love and protection, I will get through and there will be growth and it will be just what I had needed at the time. God's Will and the dust. Its all good!