Hi Guys,
I am sorry if I painted too bleak a picture.
On one level, the level that you and I would see it now, the nursing home was a wonderful place, full of caring staff, indeed I often wondered how care staff with such a depressing job, could manage to be so happy and upbeat. And they did manage to keep mum alive for 12 months when she couldn't/wouldn't always eat or drink.
And no Lynn, the doors to the individual residents rooms weren't locked, but there were locks and alarms to prevent them getting out into the garden, or making a dash for the pub.
So far as choice is concerned my mother had had two strokes, the second one a major one that literally blew her mind. Most days she seemed to recognise me, but from our conversations I think she thought I was my father. A couple of times she was happy as the Queen had apparently called in to see her. She hallucinated about a pet cat in her room. She didn't know who she was, where she was, what day it was, even what year it was. I am not sure she would have comprehended what a choice was.
It was a nursing home, one step up, or down if you like, from a care home, all the patients had suffered strokes or dementia, on one level many of them were like zombies, but if you spent time with them, and were patient, sparks of humanity were there to see, and believe me they all hated what had happened to them.
:)
Dave