I am here. In the hospital. It's probably day 35. I'm working with day 3. Things move slower when they throw a trach in you.

I know it's Chanukah. People are celebrating Christmas.
Some lady came around with a Santa hat. That was the holiday. Nothing for Chanukah. When you're sick and you can't talk, you're Christian.
The chaplain came around. That was nice. He gave me a blessing and an ornament. He just hung the ornament on me. He figured, "The guy can't move. That's good enough." Then he started caroling.
I think it has to do with Engelman. They think it's Engelhardt and they start giving me sacraments. Right now, I'm worried whenever they bathe me. I don't know if they're trying to clean me or convert me. If I had more of a name like Goldberg, Irving Goldberg, people would know.
Maybe if my family was around and put up something in my room, other than a card from my boss, who is Christian, they might know I'm Jewish.

No Chanukah gifts. I got a Chanukah card that said "Get Well Soon." When you're in the hospital, all cards are the same.
It was a "Get Well Soon" card. The card didn't say, "We hope to see you at home soon." I don't think anybody wants to see me at home. You don't usually see the cripple at shul. They don't like seeing wheelchairs at synagogue. People see a guy in a wheelchair, with a trach and an oxygen tank, and they start to think Gd doesn't answer prayers.

Last days, people have stopped coming. They figure, they don’t want to me to
expect it. I might complain. I can’t talk!!!
They must be mad I missed the softball game. They were depending on me. Your team has got to be real bad to be hoping the guy in the wheelchair loaded on morphine can take over the game. Maybe they were hoping I would get walked. Or pushed.

Family stopped by for a minute. That was nice. They popped in to tell me they were going to a Chanukah party. They thought I would appreciate knowing they are not going to be with me.
There is this concept that you can't be happy in hospital. Then what do you expect from me. Stuck to a bed. Staring at a screen that has squiggly lines all over it, and numbers that nurses don't seem to like.
My whole family is convinced you can't celebrate in the hospital. The hospital is not the place for holidays. And it's not a place to visit your dad.
Forget about a party. They didn't even acknowledge the holiday in my room. Do I not deserve the right to get a Chanukiah. I would like the holiday candelabrum. I guess they think it’s dangerous to light when you have an oxygen machine. The priest is at least trying. He keeps asking the nurses when he'll be able to put a cracker in my mouth.

Where the hell is my family? I don't care it's a holiday. It's not like they have ever enjoyed the community parties. They complain about it all the time.
I guess it has something to do with ICU. Maybe the ICU is a downer. We'll see what happens when I'm out of here.
Wait. There's a waiting room here. My parents are loving the hospital. The waiting room is a family reunion. Everybody loves it. Friends pop over to those things. Nothing is more enjoyable for a family than surgery. Everybody gets together.
They should be celebrating a Chanukah party in the waiting room. Maybe that sounds off. Big parties in the waiting room and other families are coming in trying to figure out if the doctor is right and they should pull the plug. "You want some Chanukah Gelt? It's chocolate in silver foil."
I say celebrate it all. Every moment. I’m alive. Celebrate the stroke. And cry. People should cry a little. I want to know people are crying.
You can enjoy the holiday in the hospital. Put up streamers. That's all I want are streamers.

I've started thinking positive and appreciating the small things. That sounds cliche. But when your way of celebrating Chanukah is by seeing nurses in Santa hats, you appreciate it all. So let's count the Chanukah miracles. I coughed today and I didn't get a cramp in my stomach. That made me not want to die. The doctor didn't call me a vegetable or a Chanukiah today. The chaplain thought I was an ornament holder. Did I get any Chanukah gifts? Got a blood transfusion. I guess that was a gift. My butt got wiped today. That was appreciated. Nobody pulled a plug. Thank Gd. My TV is on. They haven't changed the channel from Weather in eight days. But at least no plugs were pulled on me. Maybe my family loves me.
People are caroling. That’s nice. I guess I’ll take those as Jewish songs.

If my kids came around, that would be a miracle.
"Can somebody hear me?! I want streamers!!!! I guess I am not saying anything. Can somebody hear my thoughts?! Steamers!!! It's a holiday. Steamers!!! I need streamers in my room. Stop looking at the machine. Put streamers on it."
We have to celebrate each moment on this earth by doing good. Even when we have it real bad, we need streamers. Maybe that's the morphine talking.
My prayers will be answered if people still appreciate me, and somebody gets streamers. Streamers!!! It's a holiday!!!!

I want my family to go to the shul Chanukah party. But I also want them to come here and tell me how messed up it was. I want them to celebrate with me too.
What I'm trying to say is holidays are about joy. Celebrating is about joy. Not Latkes that turn out to be soggy Tater Tots. That's how Mrs. Pinkowitz makes them. We all know it's Tater Tots. They're tiny round Latkes. The chaplain gets that. My family doesn't get that. And I need streamers!!! Streamers!!!

It's been hard times with Mom going through stuff. Been in the ICU for a couple of weeks. Yet, many community people have been there to help.
Bikur Cholim help in Jewish communities is amazing. Bikur Cholim, visiting the sick, being a Mitzvah has helped me get a lot of food. Mom can't eat, but I am not going to tell anybody that. I'm enjoying all of the food, and I will keep telling them it's a Mitzvah.
When people think they're doing a Mitzvah, they do good. If people thought it was a Mitzvah to not be depressed, they might smile in shul. I think I have the makings of a non-profit here. I'm going to tell people it's a Mitzvah to give me money.
In hard times, it's good to know that people come together to help. In between the tears, it's good to know people care.

The Community Comes Out with Food Brings
Food brings out the beauty of the community. It's great to see community working together to make sure we are fed. The Jewish soul knows that people shouldn’t deal with crisis on an empty stomach. When family is in the hospital, in the ICU caring for a loved one that almost died, the Jewish community understands that what they need is a good spread.
They have lists going out. Different people cooking for us every night. They have Tehillim lists, Mishebeyrach blessings lists and Flanken rib lists.
One family from the community brought us bagels and lox. No onions. A Chutzpah. Probably the worst spread I ever had. I question their Neshama.
In between the tears, it's good to know there's food.

Family Visits
Cousins hear the shul members are bringing food, they're visiting for dinner. Not coming to the ICU for Mom. They're showing up for the shnitzel.
Close relatives are bringing food too. They are truly there for us. Bringing us food and eating it. I think the family likes the ambiance in the waiting room.  The dimmed lighting makes for an excellent dinner experience.

Bring Decent Food
The food you're bringing influences how many visitors come.
I just want to get in a thought here. An important thought. One that will help all members of the community. If you care, bring good stuff. The other night somebody brought us ziti. I would’ve liked to have known. I wouldn’t have visited that day.
You have to tell us what you're bringing too. I was Fleishicks. I couldn't eat dairy for another four hours. I would've run errands and then visited.
One day somebody had the Chutzpah of bringing cake and no whipped cream. When word got out, I heard some family members turned around on the I-95.

Food is Vital
Emotions don't get in the way of food.
In the hospital, my cousin asks us what we want for dinner tomorrow night, prefaced with, 'Although it's the furthest thing from your mind.' Don't assume. I am very much thinking about dinner tomorrow night. There is a big difference between breaded shnitzel and pretzel chicken.
If we’re not on top of the food, somebody might bring us ziti for dinner.

Things I Learned
When getting good food that I am not paying for, I don't ask if it's kosher.  
No matter how hard I have it, I'll be thinking about food. There's Jewish tradition to proclaim Gd's Oneness with the Shema when a person is about to pass on. I'll probably be saying a Shehakol on a nice piece of Flanken. It's a Bracha to Gd.
If people knew that there was all this food at the hospital, the ICU would be more well attended.

Conclusion
Everybody has an important place in community, if they can cook. If it wasn't for everybody helping, they might have missed a meal. And that means relatives would stop visiting.
Note of Importance: Please cook more. We didn't expect distant relatives who heard about dinner to be bringing their grandkids for supper. I only got one chicken finger the other night.
Another Note of Importance: Don't come if you don't have food. I see you coming in without a platter, I am truly asking myself why you're here.
In between the tears, it's good to know that our cousins are well-fed.
The food almost makes it all worth it.

***For an Aliyas Neshama for HaRabbetzin Necha Bat Chayim Zaydel A”H and a Refuah Sheleyma for all who need a speedy recovery, and shared laughter with their family and friends.

I Can't Go a Day Without Eating
I am going for a quick procedure and the doctor's office said I can't eat for a day. I have never been so mad in my life. Yom Kippur is painful, but I do it. I do it for the sake of Heaven. So that I can get Heaven. Now, I've got to do another day with no food???!!! And I don't even get Heaven for it!!!
If another Jewish calamity happened, I would fast. As a good Jew, that's how I mourn. I fast. That is tantamount to giving up everything, to me. I asked the doctor if a great Jewish sage died on this day. He had no answer. He also couldn't answer anything about a Jewish exile from Rochester, New York. I let him know that another Temple was not destroyed, and then I agreed to not eat for the day, and his staff went back to work. My anger apparently drew everybody's attention.
And I think about people who are ill and being fed through IVs, and I forget about them and I get very angry that I can't eat for the day.

Our Whole Life is Entertainment
TV. Internet. Eating. All we do is try to enjoy ourselves. Even learning. People learn Torah and they enjoy it. It's entertainment. Don't ask me how it's entertainment. I have seen some Chasidic Yeshivas where they learn Rashi and dance the Hora.
How can it not be our duty to bring constant enjoyment and entertainment to people who can't access it themselves? Would that not be our most important moral duty in this physical world we live in? And, do people without full strength, who express joy without all of this constant entertainment, not deserve more respect than anyone, for their strength?
Reminder. I am getting angrier, as it has been another hour without food. Even being able to drink liquids bothers me. If I'm not chewing on food, I am not happy.
Just drinking liquids is painful. I enjoy liquids when I'm eating solids. I need the food. It's like having a cup of milk and no pastry. Like drinking a glass of Coke with no brisket. Like drinking Snapple with no pizza. You need the thing to wash down. I don't wash it down with chocolate milk. I chew it down with rugelach.
Our life is activities. We need to be doing stuff. I need a division head in my house, making sure I don’t get bored.

How Do They Do Any of It
They can’t eat. And they live???
Limiting my enjoyment with anything bothers me. My whole day is about enjoyment. How do they not leave their bed, get bad sleep, get woken every three hours, never leave their room, not have their TV on, have nobody around for a day or eighty, not move at all, get stuck in a gown with their tush out all year?
I can't stay in a bed for longer than thirteen hours. I can sleep for thirteen hours. I just can't stay in bed after that.
I can't be in a room with nothing to do, just left to space out. I’ll start cleaning. When I’m cleaning, something is wrong. How people can stare at a ceiling and want to live baffles me. There must be a greater level of transformative mediation when people leave you in a room with nothing to do. I just don’t know how to meditate without eating.
I can't not watch TV (TV means something on a screen that has volume on it- TV includes watching a movie on computer- and all the Frum Jews who are hiding their TV should know I see their computer, and I am judging). If I needed somebody to turn on my TV and they weren't there, I would go crazy. If they put on the wrong channel, because they thought Hallmark was a good station, I would probably start eating solids.
I can't not have people to talk to. I even have a hard time being at home alone. I need the TV just to hear other people's voices. Preferably a drama with family yelling at each other. That makes it feel more like home. As annoying as it is to have to talk to people at Kiddish, I need it. I need shul. If I’m not at shul, I'll never be able to find my doctor.
I can't go a day without leaving the house. Even during COVID I went to the grocery store every night. It was the only place I could go. Sometimes we didn't need anything, so I picked up milk. We had freezers full of milk by the end of COVID.
I can't not go to the gym. I need to be active to know that I'm aiding myself in being less healthy and out of shape.
I can't have random people changing me, putting on messed up clothes with the tag of the women that used to be in my room. Hand-me-downs from Ethel, who none of the new staff ever met.
Reading. I can go without reading. But people enjoy it. Don't ask me.
I can’t not eat. There are people in this home that haven’t eaten for years. Not eating for one day, I can see how much more we need to give to our family and friends who are bedbound. And thank Gd for TV. If I didn't have TV for the day, I would be even angrier. And I can change the shows.
 
It's Not Spiritual
People have to stop being spiritual. Bedbound people need stuff to do.
Spirituality is great when I don’t need food. I was praying for food today. Didn't help. I couldn't eat it. I needed other activities. At least I had TV, and I could turn it on. I was able to move around and get out of my house. Those who are bedbound and/or can’t eat, their activities are limited. They can pray and connect with Gd. But they can’t reach the remote.
Whenever it comes to sick people, or people without full health, everybody gets spiritual. They start praying for them. They leave them unattended, staring at their feeding tubes, and pray for them. 'I pray that somebody is taking care of them.' ‘I pray they’re not bored.’ ‘I hope they’re enjoying the football game. I pray somebody turns it on for them. It’s a great game. I pray one day they’ll be able to eat wings again… Honey. Where's the garlic mayonnaise dip.’
I am very angry about this not eating thing. This doctor has no soul. I love garlic mayonnaise.

Conclusion
Most importantly, they deserve our respect. How do they do it? How do they go on from day to day and still find beauty in this world, and appreciate it? Strength. Spiritual strength. TV.
People who are sick, and people living in a less physically able state, deserve our admiration. They deserve our support. They deserve for us to be there, to help them with all the moments of entertainment they deserve, so they don't have to focus on not eating. They deserve for us to learn from them.
They're an inspiration. Weight Watchers should be out there praising them. Letting the world know that people are out there not eating solids.
One day and I can't do it. And I'm watching TV right now, on the internet, hitting the gym after the procedure, and I'm praying to Gd and being spiritual so I don't have to help anybody.
It's not helping people enjoy life and bad cooking that destroyed the Temple.

The last of my Musar (moral thoughts) for this week, is now continued. I feel like a good rabbi sharing these thoughts and telling you how bad you are. And it is all geared at other people. I don't like to look at myself when I'm giving Musar. I like to blame others for the issues. It's easier to rebuke that way.
These people that aren't by their loved ones, have no idea what I'm talking about. 'Why is he complaining?' Because you have no idea what I'm talking about. If people got it, I wouldn't feel this need to go off on this not visiting thing. If they understood how important it is to ensure that the station is changed off Delilah every once in a while, I wouldn't have to share these thoughts on how you have to be at the 'home.'
My thought: It's always the people that are the reason for the complaint that have a problem with it. 'Ugh. Why does she think we are self-centered snobs?' Because you are. I hope I helped I somebody with that thought.
​
You Can Only Know How Bad It Is If You're There
You'll have shifts where care is not done. It happens. You'll see the staff there, not coming to the room. Cleaning, meds, no idea if they are done. Have of the cleaning supplies are not in the room. They're focused on their phones. A line of six of them on their phones, like teenagers at dinner. The roller chairs lined up at the nursing station waiting to see if any friends need their help. 
Good and bad happens. You have to know the shifts. The only way to know the shifts is to know the people. To be there. To be the annoying one they all hate, because you noted to them that it might be the right thing to cut the resident's fingernails every once in a while. Then you see the aides on their phones, taking bets on whose fingernails will grow the longest over four months. FIguring out the over under on room Fran.
I've noticed so much just being there. If I wasn't sitting here right now, I wouldn't understand how loud the air-compressor is. If I didn't spend three hours here straight, I wouldn't know how much your head can hurt from the sound of a lawnmower running for three hours right near my face. If I wasn't here right now, I wouldn't notice all the people that would be so happy if their family cared enough to visit. That's sentimental stuff right there. 
I wouldn't see all the people that are wondering if their children are alive. I wouldn't notice the residents spacing out and staring at the stucco.
You don't know how bad the music in the room is, if you're not there. The aides are picking some of their favorites. There is only so much '80s soft rock one can listen to. If I wasn't here right now, I wouldn't know about the beep going off the last forty-five minutes. I wouldn't know how much Hallmark was being played.
If you cared, you would be by them, reading to them, helping them move, maybe even watching something other than a love story about a divorced woman, sharing family time with the kids. A break from Hallmark with their child isn't the worst thing to have every day. You would ensure the 45 degree position that the untrained aide forgot to leave dad in.
If you cared, you would've known about the Salsa fiasco. Somehow, Salsa is somebody's tradition, so it has to be played twenty-four hours a day, when the messed up aide is there. Spanish music mix isn't the tradition. Constant Salsa, when sleeping, and bothering your neighbors is the tradition for this aide.

Pop-ins
At the very least, pop-ins. ​You have to be there every day to ensure decent care in most of these institutions they call homes. For the unloving child, pop-ins have a place.
I said 'every day.' That's too much. I am sorry for suggesting that your parents should be part of your life. It's much easier to not have to worry if you're not there. Let's leave it at visiting once a week for a few minutes. A pop-in. Pop-ins are exciting. You show up and see them hanging off the side of the bed, say 'hi' and head out. 
Pop-ins are perfect for ensuring that the care is not getting done. You pop-in and check to make sure the place isn't clean, and head out. You let dad know you're doing well and you are just checking to make sure the experience of hell is right for dad. It's a different way of showing you care. It's like abandonment with care.

Sometimes Stuff Doesn't Get Done When You're Not There
Some staff is like, 'What are they going to do? Tell on us? So we skip today's treatment. They're old, nobody will know. Let's see whose nails grow longer. Focus on the nails.' One of the fun games with the fingernails is to see how long they get before a family member complains. I've seen people with four inches on the nails. Unpolished nails. I once heard a nurse say, they haven't visited in three inches.
Sometimes it's a weekend and there is no staff. The place can't find somebody to man the unit, so they have a free day to see who survives. 

If You Are Not There, You're Not There
That is profound. I try to share novel ideas that strike one's mind. Don't give me the, 'I pray and I feel like I am there.' I am not mocking prayer here. Pray and connect with the spiritual. But don't think for a second that your parents wouldn't appreciate your prayers more, if you were there, praying with them.
Prayers for people are great, but you can't tell your parents you're praying for them. That doesn't bring Chizuk (strength). You can't tell dad, 'I'm praying for you.' Now your dad is asking: 'Did I sin?' 'Did my daughter convert?' 'Am I going to hell?' The only way you can tell somebody you're praying for them is if you're telling them, 'I am praying for you, because you are about to die.' You have to add on how sick they are, so they don't think you are deeming them a sinner. On the other hand, it might be hard to tell somebody you're praying for them, and then to list all their diseases to them. Maybe you should first ask them if they want the list. Advice: Before you let somebody know you're praying for them, first make sure it's clear to them how bad their life is.
If you're not there, you can't tell the doctors to stop talking about your loved one as a study of illness. You can tell the doctor that the person they are talking about is right there. You can tell them, 'Though they can't talk, they still have a soul, that I am praying for.' You can tell them to not dissect the corpse they are talking about.

You Can't See How Great the Staff Is
If you're not there, you can't see the amazing care that the nurses and aides are doing for your parents. You can't be there to thank the staff for the love they show your parents. You can thank them for the excellent care. There is a lot of excellent care. I just like to focus on the negative when I'm rebuking the world.
When I rebuke, I rebuke. You think the old Jewish people are not trying to figure out why their children turned into nonJewish kind people who look different? When they see these kind aides and nurses, they start to think these are their kids. They like to think their children are good people that would visit. That's what senile is. Senile is the hope that your kid is one of the aides who cares about you. Obviously, any sensical human being would know their kids don't care. And then, 'Why the hell is my kid changing me right now?' It is all confusing. 'Where the hell did my house go?' Senile.
Nobody wants to go to a Musar Shmuz (a speech on moral improvement) to hear how great they are. No decent Jew would walk out of a speech like that feeling good. 

Disclaimers
I understand that there are other factors involved in life. Like somebody may need open heart surgery in a different state, so they can't visit mom and dad right now. I also respect Tehillim and prayers very much. It is appreciated and it helps the soul and our connection with God. So, as long as praying isn't your alibi for not visiting, you might not be a jerk.
Prayer is great. Visiting is great. They’re the right thing to do. Nothing is better than a person you don't want to see for very long, visiting you. Visiting and prayer is great for community, and extended family. Whatever extended family means, depends on how much you like the relative. If you can’t stand them, they’re extended family. You want extended family to do pop-ins.
When you're a sibling, a child, a parent, a spouse, the closest family member they have, prayer is not enough. Visiting is not enough. You have to be there.

Conclusion
Be there. Join in the experience of seeing people's tushes. Share in hell. Play Bingo. It's not that bad. You can even pray in hell. You can bring the grandchildren to join in the experience of hell. You can have great family time in hell. 
I think there are enough reasons to be there. If it's too much for you to get out of the house to visit, bring them back to your house. Get a reclining bed, set it at 45 degrees and make sure the TV is set to Hallmark. Maybe dad will also get to see his grand-kids passing through. Grand-kids pass through. You see them on the way to stuff. Grandchildren don't do pop-ins. Just pop-byes. More like hop-byes. Grand-kids like to hop. If they have a friend over, they might do a hop-in.
And no complaining about the gown. If it's fine for them to walk around their home with the tush showing, it's fine to walk around your home like that too.
Now that I got that off my chest, I love the recliner beds. I'm going to try to get on one of those, pop on some Hallmark, and drink some ginger ale with crushed ice. Can't wait till Bingo this afternoon. We're hitting that.

Somebody had to look like an angry person on behalf of others. If you don't start visiting more, I'll write another one of these sermons of anger. 

***For a Refuah Sheleyma for חיה נחה בת ריבה לאה and all who need a speedy recovery, and shared laughter with their family and friends.

I am still bothered by abandonment. So, here comes more of my manifesto of rebuke.
Why does our society care about kids and not care about our elders? We have to care about anybody that can't get a decent job. That should be the rule. Even at shul I hear somebody talking about how we need more for the youth. Everybody jumped in. 'Yes. We need to focus on the youth.' Nobody ever focuses on the old people. 'We need more youth programming. Let the old people die.'
It's this not caring about about the older people that leads to abandonment in these homes. Families let them go to these homes and die. Of course, the community is happy to not have to see them in shul, coughing in the choolante.
Being around the nursing facilities and hearing that youth focus got to me. We can mend the community issue by bringing the youth to do a Purim dance at the homes. I am truly bothered by these families that don't come around.
I'm not talking about family visiting. That, I've only seen once. I'm talking to those people that don't get how important it is to be there. I am talking to everybody right now, including myself. Other than that one family who popped in on a holiday half a year ago. Maybe they forgot that old people can ruin a holiday for the youth.

Treat it like Their Home and Be There
If it's their home, at least visit. I am attacking you right now. I don't know if it's you. There are a lot of people not visiting. Everybody can visit more. It's probably you. I am always amazed when I meet people and they tell me their parents are the greatest people. There are a lot of jerks in the world. I am sure, some of them are parents.
What excuses do you have for not being there? Too much going on? You have to focus on the youth of the community? Have you ever went to a community play that you couldn't skip? Are you afraid you're going to miss the TV show? Do you have to be there for the kids? No. There has never been any community theater that you shouldn't have missed. There has never been a community rendition of Fiddler On The Roof that did not ruin your night. You have Netflix. If you're not binge watching your shows then you have to learn time management. You can take your kids to visit their grandparents.

If You Cared, You Would Be There
That almost rhymes. Take out the 'd.'
​Do you realize they're spacing out all day? You don't know and you don't care to know. I feel wrong for suggesting that people visit their parents more often. I feel like the idea is killing somebody's weekend.
If they can look up at the correct 45 degree angle, they're watching Hallmark. Stuck watching Hallmark with the echo of their roommate, who's watching the other Hallmark, none movie, channel; killing dad's Hallmark experience. Dad's just trying to watch Hallmark, like a good resident. Residents are supposed to watch Hallmark. It should be in the initiation manual. And his roommate is killing his Hallmark experience, with Hallmark. It's confusing to have two Hallmark channels.

The Forty Five Degrees
They need to be able to see and watch TV at the 45 degree angle they leave them in. Forty five degrees, that's the nursing home position. The 45 degree recliner position. That's why the beds recline. If they didn't, the residents wouldn't be able to be in the necessary 45 degree position. 

I Have Seen The People And They Are Bored
There is lonely, and then there is bored. Lonely is a single person. Bored is a single person that doesn't know how to play solitaire. 
I've seen people in the unit who have no abilities. They stare at a ceiling. If they could play solitaire on the ceiling, they wouldn't be bored.
If you cared, you would be there. You would buy them those glow in the light ceiling stickers, and put together a Milky Way, or some kind of smiley face. They would count stars. Instead, these people stare at a ceiling, and no family is there to join them in the activity of stucco staring. It's not a bad activity. But it is much more enjoyable to stucco stare when your kid is there staring and counting the bumps with you. 
Other than that, the TV is on the wrong station. But you wouldn't know that one of the left-wing aides switched the channel. So now your parent is listening to CNN and they're starting to hate Israel.
They're listening, because the TV is right in front of their bed and they're only at a 45 degree angle. They can't see the TV.

If You Cared
There seems to be a theme here.
If you cared, you would be there to ensure that your dad was having the full 'home' experience, and that Hallmark was running on that TV at all times. You would place the screen above the bed, on the ceiling, so they could see it. You would make sure your dad was playing Bingo. Enjoying the Bingo beauty of nursing facilities. The cleanest Bingo houses in America, where Bingo is played with no smoke, while drinking Shasta.
I have been around many non-profits, and I have noticed that true skill and talent is playing Bingo without smoking. It's not an easy feat.
I have witnessed some amazing Bingo games in my lifetime. The greatest win was when somebody called Bingo, and it just so happened that the cigarette butt
accidently landed on O63, and they needed that 63.

If it Isn't Good Enough For You
Here are some arguments for you.
'If it's not good enough for you...' That is the question you have to ask. What are you sending them to a place that is not good enough for you? How is it good enough for them? How is it good enough for them to listen to all these other chachers, hocking phlegm on them, when you can't even deal with a sneeze?
You stuck them in hell. One woman, that can talk, was telling me that she's in hell. I had to to tell her to enjoy hell. What else can I do. Tell her that her kids suck? I didn't have to tell her that her kids suck. She was able to talk. She told me they suck. They suck and they never visit. 'Their dad said it's too far. They live forty minutes away. It's too much to come out. It's not too much for them to go into my ban account those... I did a bad job as a parent. Raising such selfish little... And then this place. Who sticks somebody in hell? The nurses. Those devils... The aides. Little satins... Haven't seen a doctor around. It's one of those pick your health plans for Fran... My kids don't care.' I think the home is happy more people can't talk.
I'm not even going to ask the question of why they are not in your house. Everybody has good reason for kicking family out of the house. By me, I was twenty-five. My parents felt it was time for me to get a job and learn how to use a microwave.
If it's not good enough for you, maybe you should think about the house.

What Can Go Wrong When You're There?
Seeing you. That can go wrong.
They might feel too much love. That would go against the reason you sent them to the home. You sent them there to let them know they're not loved. It would be too confusing to show up. Then they would think they were loved and still part of the family. Or, you can do stuff with them there. You can have family events there, and let them know they're loved. If you cared and didn't show up with all your gloom and smugness.
I have seen people bring down the room at a nursing facility. How do you bring down the mood at a nursing home, when somebody is on a ventilator? You've got to be a really gloomy individual to bring down the mood.

Being There is the Solution
You can feel like you're in hell too. You stuck them there, you can feel it too. Either that, or you can celebrate the smell of old. There's a smell. No cologne has a line of old, but it's not that bad. It's a good smell, once you accept it.
There is so much you can do when you share hell. Playing cards is one of them.
You can see the aides and nurses not coming around and checking. You can see when the care is not happening. How do you do that? By caring. That's the theme. Caring. Caring enough to smell old people and play cards.

Show Them They're Valued
Just be there for people can help them feel valued. Let them know their loved. Let them know their love means something. Let them know how their smile brightens the world. Let them know they are still part of your lives. That they're on your mind when you're skiing and not seeing them for a month. Let them know you are happy they are not dead. That's all people need. 
When people feel not needed or wanted, they want death. That's what I have learned from my extensive study of friends and family. I am sorry that I haven't logged it. I am sure it works into the Chi Square method. You stuck your dad in the home, and you are not inviting him to join the construction team. He's not knocking down the walls of your apartment for the renovations. Show him he's valued. Show him his life is worth something. Show him he's wanted. You might even get put back in the will.
Learn to love the cough. Love their smile. Love their touch. Love the smell of old. If you love that stuff, you give them value. All people need in this world is to know they're loved and valued. You can't do that by running away from the cough.
​Ask anybody, they will tell you that there is no better feeling than knowing people don't want you dead.
​
Shall Continue Tomorrow
That's enough care for today. I'll continue with more about how bad you are, and how I am bothered by you, tomorrow.

***For a Refuah Sheleyma for חיה נחה בת ריבה לאה and all who need a speedy recovery, and shared laughter with their family and friends.

I like the idea of calling these place homes. I just don't think that anybody sees it as a home.

They Call It a Home
If a home was a place that had none of your belongings, other than stuff that sticks to the wall, it's a home. But no family sees these places as their parents' home. Nobody grew up with fond memories of their parents chasing them around the oxygen machine, and the hydration machine feeling like a lawnmower running in the house all day. I don't know many that grew up with fond memories of Max and Bernie, dad's first roommates who always had their tush showing, who died.
I walk through to my Mom and I see these people without family in the homes and it hurts my heart. You stuck this old family member that raised you, changed your diapers, did your laundry for twenty years and dealt with you as a teenager, in the facility. There is no way you were easier to deal with as a teenager, than your dad who is too weak to argue. 
If it's their home, then visit. You stuck them there, the least you can do is be there for them. But you are not. These people are alone. What's worse, many of them are just staring at ceilings, with not even the ability to turn on their TVs, to keep their mind off the fact their kids don't visit, with nobody looking out for them, forgotten by their families. This sounds like rebuke. Good.
Warning: There is a lot of reprimanding in the next couple thoughts. So, only read this if you're a child who feels bad about not caring enough. If you care about not caring, that might make you a child who cares. I don't know. I just figure that if you care about not caring, you'll like being rebuked.

Getting Rid Of The Problem
Families drop them off and leave them. It's like those boarding schools, where you get rid of your old person.
They chuck the problem out of the house. 'Dad's been coughing too much. I can't enjoy dinner like this. What can we do?... How can we get rid of him and not feel bad about it? Where can we drop these people off?... We'll drop him off at one of those homes. They call them homes. He loves homes.' Now, the family can live in joy, without the old people chaching (with a Jewish use of the Hebrew 'chach') all over.
So, you put them in a 'home.' You kick them out of the house and put them in a home. They call it a 'home' to make you feel better about kicking them out of the home. And then you never visit the home.

Are They Homes
They call it a home, but you know it's not. You just want the old problem out. Any sale would work. The family loves the pitch, wheeling around eighty year old dad to, 'Here's the home that dad's going to be moving to... No. We don't have room for the big flat screen. One of the kids should take that as an inheritance. It's fine. We'll provide a TV. It's eighteen inches and fifteen feet from the bed... Your dad's new dining room is shared with these thirty people she never met... They all chach during service. That's the standard lighting. Bright. That's our motto. "Keep the lights bright at all times." And here's the bathroom. Shared with that guy... And leave everything somewhere else. There's not enough room in the home. His home is that side of the room... Throw it out. Trust me. And Shasta. We don't do Coke. Shasta Cola and Hallmark. That's what we do. If your dad likes Bingo, he's going to love his new home. And best part of it all, everybody coughs a lot.' The family is saying, 'Thank Gd. That's it. We don't have to hear the cough anymore. Take him. He'll make a lot of new friends. They can chach together.' They're happy that the administration at the home understands how annoying the hacking cough is.
'Here's your new home with your roommate that is going to be mooning you all day.' 'Here's your new home with none of your stuff... Where is it? We inherited it.' 'But i'm alive.' 'The big flat screen is in our house. We made a theater.'
The families know it's not a new home. That's why they never show up.

Call It Whatever You Want
How about we call it a facility and treat it like a home?! A home where you visit for regularly, because you want to see your parents? And you still love them, even though they already wrote the will? 
Be there. It's wrong to not be there. If it truly was your parents' home, you would visit. People visit their parents' home. So now you have a home, owned by Medicare, with a bunch of hack coughing helpless people, staring at a ceiling. It's like a town of people with really bad lung control. A city of refuge for people who have too much mucus and nose hair.

Kibud Av vEim is Lost
When Is Kibud Av vEim, Honoring Your Parents, done? When you can't get anything from them. That's when you drop them off. It's shocking to me that people end the honoring of their parents when their parents can't support them anymore. It usually happens right after the parents lose their job. They're coughing in the office and they lose their job. It's downhill from there.
Anger towards having to see parents happens before the cough. Every married couple complains when parents come to visit. It's American tradition to complain about parents visiting. 'Oh. They're coming. Now we have to clean, and they're going to get in our way. They're going to want to take the kids to soccer. Embarrassing. Shoot. Got to make the beds too.' Yes. They are going to get in your way. You were in their way the first twenty years of your life. They didn't sleep for fifteen of those. After that they questioned whether their child would ever get out of the house, but they hosted you. They didn't know if they wanted you, but they kept you in the house, and loved you. The least you can do is have them over for a week, and throw some linens in the wash.
Chas vShalom, God forbid, they become frail. Now, they might be in your house for two weeks. Two weeks of phlegm. So, you chuck them in a 'home.'
Visit.
If you feel like I am talking to you, and this bothers you, good. I am sitting right across from a girl who hasn't been visited in ten years. Her family stuck her in here, and Spanish music has apparently not changed since Louis Miguel.
American society is built to make you feel good about not having to take care of the frail. How do you do that? Send them away. If you don't see them, you don't feel bad.​ The key is to forget about them. Then, you don't feel like you abandoned them.
If they're there, you've got to now treat it as their home.

What is Kibud Av VaEim
Honoring your parents is realizing what they have done for you. It's thanking them for bringing you into this world, for life. Maybe I'm not selling this well. I can understand why a lot of people hate their parents.

How Do I Know It's Their Home
Older people like to downsize. It's the final downsizing move. You end up with two shirts and three pants of your own. You get to take five pictures to hang; four must be wallet sized. 
Other than downsizing, I don't know where the rest of these people's stuff is. I can't imagine the families care enough to put their parents' stuff in storage. Maybe they divvy it out.
Now, it's their home. It's the only choice they have. Their bed is there. They've got a professional cleaning crew. They've got a pair of pants that now goes higher on the waist. It's a really small apartment with no fridge. Everything they own is there, in a dresser and on the wall. You took the rest of it. 
They have new family known as aides.

The Homes Should Take In the Old People
The facilities should be adoption agencies. This will clear the air. You drop off your old family member who coughs a lot, because it's an annoying hacking cough, at these new homes. Your parents will be fine with you letting them go, after screaming at them for the past year and a half, for being them and old. Instead of nursing facilities, you drop them off at one of the Old Person Adoption Agencies for Abandoned Ninety Year Olds.
Might as well put the old people up for adoption. Old people adoption would be a great business. If you put up your old dad for adoption, you can probably make good money off it. The nursing facilities are already making money off it. This way, you can make money too. 
It's good money. These nursing homes have already figured out how to get the adoption money from Medicare. It's just a matter of making it clear that you, the children, don't want them anymore. If your parents loved you, they would be fine with you putting them in these foster homes for people who like to wear gowns.
Yes. I feel extremely bad for these people I see abandoned at these facilities for 363 days a year; the days that aren't Christmas, Thanksgiving, or the February 29th when it's there. If you just put your parents up for adoption by new children, it would be better,

The Aides Are Sweet Children
The good ones, I mean. They're better than kids. Who wouldn't want to have an aide as a child? The aides are the ones your parents see daily. It's just a matter of making it official.
Nursing aides as children would be better for your parents. It would make mom and dad feel good to know their children are loving people. Mom and dad deserve to have children who care about them. 

Don't End Their Life Early
Once you take them for that visit to the home, mom and dad know that's the end. Mom and dad sitting there while you talk about their future. When people start talking about you, in front of you, you know that life is going down hill.
And then you try to sell them on it. It never sounds good. 'Look mom. That's Thelma. You remember her from shul twenty years ago. She's still alive. Ninety eight and still kicking. She's going to be right down the hall from you.' 'The administrator said that there are other people who chach here. You'll be around pears who can't talk.'
Even just saying 'administrator in your home' sounds off. You might as well tell them, 'We are giving you over to the State now.'

Conclusion
How can we mend this new 'home' conundrum? Be there.
For better or worse, it's their home. Treat it like that. If you can't handle it, there is a problem. If you have an issue seeing frail people with poor lung control, don't put that on mom and dad. If you can't stand people having to see people lick their fingers in order to turn pages, don't put that on other people. 
Be there and make it good times.​ How? That's going to be hard to figure out. Start by learning how to love Bingo. 
If you're not going to be there, be honest. Call it what it is. Abandonment. A home of abandonment. If it was a child you were throwing into a group setting, because you couldn't stand cleaning their diaper, people would question you as a human. I really like the adoption idea. 'Your biological family wants to visit you.' That sounds good. 
If none of that works for you, live with them. Yes. Live with them. Make it your new life. Get used to watching Hallmark and Golden Girls. Make them happy and have the news playing all day in your den. 
Tomorrow is going to be about being there. If you really feel this home of shared dining room with thirty other people that don't keep Kosher is your dad's new home, then be there. Share dinner with him.
And it's no different than people with disabilities. Families drop them off too.
Disclaimer: If you truly hate your parents, and they abandoned you, I get it. Maybe these homes are filled with really nasty people who deserve kids that don't care about them.

***For a Refuah Sheleyma for חיה נחה בת ריבה לאה and all who need a speedy recovery, and shared laughter with their family and friends.