On June 4th I had my first video chat with my 86-year-old Mom. She spoke with me while seated in her Broda chair with the assistant director of nursing by her side holding the video device. Even though she was tired, we talked for about 30 minutes. This chat may seem ordinary to you, but to me it was nearly a miracle. Mom and I had not spoken since March 11th, not for 85 days. It was 85 days of hope.
As the middle child of seven kids, I was used to fighting to be heard. This time, I fought long and hard to have this precious 30 minutes with Mom. I started this fight to talk with my Mom on April 11th when I made three phone calls to speak with her at the nursing home where she resides. Each time I was told she was either sleeping or someone else was using the mobile phone. I was told to call back later.
On April 25th I tried calling again. This time I was told that speaking to residents via the mobile phone was no longer allowed due to the potential spread of the COVID-19 virus within the facility. The staff member comforted me though with the promise of a video chat that following week. Patiently, I waited for the call but with each passing day I became more anxious without any word. Through news reports, I heard there were 15 positive test results among residents and staff and two deaths at Mom’s small long term care facility of only about 34 residents. I prayed and I had hope I would get to talk with Mom soon.
On May 5th I had a large bouquet of flowers delivered to my Mom for Mother’s Day along with a card. I wanted Mom to know that I had not forgotten her. The day after Mother’s Day I emailed the center’s staff asking if they would please send a photo of Mom with the flowers I sent. I wanted to be sure she received them. Two days later, I received an email reply saying they needed written permission from Mom’s power of attorney (POA) for me to have a photograph. I asked if they could get that permission for me since I lived 825 miles away. She did not respond to my request. By now, there were 22 residents and staff with positive test results and three deaths at Mom’s facility. Mom’s tests had come back negative, which was a relief. I kept praying.
On May 15th one of my sisters briefly visited the center and called to have a window visit with Mom. She was wheeled into position but she seemed upset and she made no eye contact with my sister. Mom’s appearance was disheveled and she appeared to have lost weight. Now, I was upset and even more anxious. Now was not the time to lose hope.
That same day, May 15th, I emailed Mom’s POA asking for their written permission to communicate with Mom via video and to have a photo of Mom with her flowers. I did not receive a reply.
I knew from prior research that Mom and other residents had access and visitation rights through the Nursing Home Reform Act of 1987. She didn’t need a POA’s written permission to speak with her children but no one asked her so the fight began along with more prayers.