Housing

Whenever I think of how bad I feel about my current care home situation, I am reminded of two seemingly contradictory statements from my staff. One is that I think every place is horrible anyway. The other is that I had “gold in my hands” at my old home. These seem contradictory, but really aren’t. They are two sides of the same coin: I am thought of as chasing perfection.

There may be some truth to this idea indeed, but that doesn’t negate the fact that one can learn and this place is definitely bad. It isn’t like I just need to accept what I have now just because I can’t have it all. Besides, if people – the powers-that-be, such as the behavior specialists – just had been honest with me about the fact that, indeed, to live with people of higher IQ would mean more expectations and less support, I’d have declined to move. That was, after all, the comment I put at the bottom of my “housing profile”.

And it isn’t like I chase perfection everywhere. Or honestly that I thought, at the end of the day, that this place would be perfect. Yes, when I read the home’s profile on the website, I thought it’d be, but that leaflet is either outdated or simply incorrect. But when the behavior specialist for my old home explained some things about the home, I did realize it wasn’t perfect. Same when I visited here twice. But then again, perfection doesn’t exist. And I was willing to make some sacrifices to live on institution grounds and have fellow residents I could chat with. But not everything I had: all the daily structure, all the useful day activities, all the proper help with ADLs and, interestingly, behavioral regulation too. Because, despite the fact that this home is an intensive support home, which means the residents have significant challenging behavior, whereas my old home was a care-based home, I see more people managing huge wildfires of escalating behavior without realizing the proverbial cigarettes they’ve thrown onto the ground themself.

This post was inspired by today’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “perfection”. I am sorry for being repetitive yet again. This whole care home situation is getting old, but I wish that meant I’d actually adjusted to it. I’m not sure I ever will.

One of Mama Kat’s writing prompts for this week is to share the last thing you complained about. If I have to believe the staff here, it’s pretty much in my DNA to complain. At least, more than one have been calling me dissatisfied as if it’s a personal attribute.

Indeed, I am not naturally all that optimistic. I remember one day in high school my teacher asked me whether the glass was half full or half empty, assuming I’d say half empty. I said I didn’t know, because I didn’t understand the question, if for no other reason, then because there was no half full/half empty glass in front of me. However, even if he’d asked me whether I tended to look at things from a positive or negative perspective, I might not have known. I know now I lean towards the negative, but I don’t see it nearly as much so as others perceive me as.

This morning, one of the staff – a nice staff, usually – called me dissatisfied because I was complaining of the cold. Not the weather, mind you. The temperature inside my room. For clarity’s sake, we aren’t forced to save on heating here (at least, not yet), but the heating had been turned down by her yesterday because it had been hot here. Granted, after several staff complaining of the heat (I didn’t mind, though it was warmer than it should be), I had finally given her permission to turn down the heating. I shouldn’t have.

Two weeks ago, the heating had last been touched, because at the time it’d been freezing cold here due to the heating being broken. After an entire weekend (when the temperatures at night had dropped to -6°C) of no heating, the thing got fixed and I hadn’t dared let the staff touch it again despite it being a bit on the hot side in my room. After yesterday I gave in, it was cold again today. Not freezing cold, but uncomfortably cold to the point of causing me overload anyway.

The staff turned up the heating again – which unfortunately ten hours later hasn’t proven effective yet – and suggested I wear warm clothes. Not that I wasn’t wearing winter clothes already, but apparently I needed to sit in my room wearing three layers of clothing. Plus gloves, as my hands were cold too. I refused. This was what got me to be called dissatisfied. Of course, the staff didn’t tell me to wear gloves, but I did explain that my hands were primarily cold.

I also explained that I was anxious about having to be freezing all weekend again because maybe touching the heating had somehow broken it again. To this, the staff replied that I was assuming the worst. Well yes, I was, but it wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before.

I’m sad that I’m seen as generally dissatisfied even by staff I think are nice. I mean, I know they get a lot of negativity from me about the other staff and occasionally about their own behavior. Recently, I sent one of the nice staff away angrily because she was the fourth staff supporting me that shift. The thing is, the not-so-nice staff don’t take it personally. The nice ones do even though I don’t mean any of my complaints personally. The fact that a staff has made it on my “nice” list, doesn’t mean they can’t ever do anything wrong or, if they do, that they won’t hear about it.

Finally, after writing up most of this post and complaining to my husband about the cold, my husband said I should tell the staff my heating is broken and ask them to call the servicemen if it’s still cold tomorrow. Half an hour ago, the staff who had called the servicemen last time – on a Sunday, because he agreed it couldn’t wait till Monday -, came into my room and I asked him to check my heating. He did and agreed it’s probably broken again, so he’s phoning the servicemen again tomorrow. I’m so glad. When the heating can be made to behave or can be fixed altogether, will remain to be seen.

Chasing Perfection? #SoCS

I Complained About the Cold