MICHAEL MORRISSEY
Special to The Leader
My grandfather, whom we call Poppy, has been itching to get out of The Grand Rehabilitation and Nursing Home in Rome, N.Y., since the day he got there. His health conditions, which have been piling up for years, prevented him from remaining in the same house he had lived in for 70 years of his life. In order to make sure he was getting treated properly, The Grand was chosen because it seemed to be able to provide the care he needed.
Now, I will admit sometimes Poppy is not the easiest person to work with; it’s either his way or the wrong way.
That said, there are situations that have occurred with my grandfather at The Grand that would baffle anybody.
There was one instance where Poppy notified my mother of how he never received his regular morning medication. My mother immediately called the nursing home and questioned this. The nurse “informed” her that my grandfather “refused his medications.”
Immediately, my mother knew this couldn’t be true. Through further investigation, it appeared to our family that the nurse did in fact lie about this and Poppy was never brought his morning medication.
Countless situations like this occurred and my family finally came to the unanimous decision to take him home from The Grand.
The recent COVID-19 outbreak caused our escape plan to come to a halt. My family had to make the hard decision to keep him there. We were hoping the probability of him contracting the virus would be less likely if he were at The Grand than at one of our homes.
Though my mother could not physically be there to make sure things were running smoothly, she made sure she knew of everything that was happening to her father through the phone. From calling Poppy to calling The Grand, and even contacting specific nurses.
On March 18, 2020, days after I arrived home from college, Poppy celebrated his 90th birthday. Since he could not leave and we could not enter the nursing home, the only logical answer for my family was to take a bunch of signs, a cake, a Utica Club beer and stand outside the glass doors just to see him and make him feel our love.
Though I felt a bit ridiculous standing out there, the amount of joy that exuded out of his petite, aged body squashed my feelings of embarrassment.
On April 6 at 1:48 a.m., my grandfather called my mom saying that he felt very ill. For the next couple hours, my mother was playing phone tag with the nurses and her father trying to get it verified that a nurse went in to check on Poppy.
He was never checked on.
The final straw occured three hours later when Poppy called my mother and said, “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t breathe.”
My mother immediately called the home and threatened to call 911 if no one went to check on him.
Once a nurse went in to check on him, he was soon rushed to the hospital due to several health complications. There was fluid in his lungs.
I was at my sister’s house the next morning when my mother called and urged us to come home because she had to speak to us. I knew in my gut that something had happened to Poppy. I walked through my front doors and my house had never felt so still yet so shaky at the same time.
My mother immediately looked at us and said, “Pa has the coronavirus.”
With the news now revealed, the atmosphere changed with many emotions. Feelings of worry, rage and regret filled the air.
Worry for my Poppy. Is he healthy enough to make it out of this? We can’t lose him to COVID-19. Will we be able to see him again? Can we speak to him? We just want to be with him.
Rage at The Grand. How could they let this happen? How could they leave a resident that’s ill for hours without checking on them? How can they have one aide for an entire unit full of 40 residents?
Regret for leaving him at The Grand. He should have never stayed there. All he wanted was to come home. Did we make the right decision with keeping him there? We should have just brought him home.
Our minds were simply jumbled for the next couple days, not knowing which route to take next.
On April 9, my grandfather was put on a ventilator in order to make sure he was breathing correctly.
With all of these emotions, my family decided to turn to God. We reached out to friends and family to start an army of positive thoughts and prayers for Poppy. Every single day since then, my family has gone to a local shrine of religious figures and prayed. We pray for the strength to get him home, where he can be with his family by his side.
Though my grandfather could not speak to us on the ventilator, he can still hear us. We delivered an iPad to the hospital so we can video chat with him and he can feel our presence.
As we sat there waiting for an answer from his end, I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see. The sight of tubes uncomfortably inserted down the throat of your seemingly unconscious loved one is something you never want to see.
The nurses at the hospital have been very patient and helpful with my family during this time as they reassure us that even though he is sedated, he can still hear us.
We went around the room, one by one, to talk to Poppy. Up until my turn, I was scrambling, trying to figure out what to say. I picked up the phone and said, “Hi Pa; it’s your favorite speaking! I love you so much. You gotta keep fighting so you can come home.”
That was all I really could say at the moment; I hated seeing him like that.
With all of this going on around me, all of the schoolwork that I have been assigned has just slipped my mind. To be completely honest, the work doesn’t matter to me at this time. I explained to my professors that being in my home environment, there was no way I could step away from it like I would have been able to while away at school.
The next day, my father woke me up bright and early.
“We’re getting this house ready for Poppy,” he said.
Not really knowing or caring what he meant, I got up to take his lead. We started cleaning the living room because that is where Poppy would be living.
My father bought a glass door to install in the walkway, connecting my living room and dining room to keep him and the virus isolated. I couldn’t help but to ask, “If Poppy is coming here with the coronavirus, does that mean we’re all going to get the coronavirus?”
My dad responded with, “I don’t know, but we have to get him home.”
After a little over a week, the typical maximum amount of days on a ventilator was approaching. The doctors needed a decision from my mother and her siblings on their next move.
We had the option to take him off the ventilator, put him on comfort care and “let nature take its course.”
Or, we could keep him on the ventilator to see if he would make a recovery.
Should they take him off the ventilator? Or should they give him more time to recover?
Very quickly, my family decided to keep him on the ventilator for a little bit longer in the hopes that we will see more progress. Poppy is a fighter and has overcome many health complications, so we are giving him the chance to do so again.
Since that decision, it’s been a waiting game. We continue to pray for and talk to my grandfather as much as we can. He is becoming more responsive while talking on Facetime. It felt so liberating to see him open his eyes for us.
At first, it seemed to us that my grandfather was the only case of the virus in The Grand. It has recently surfaced, though, that there had been multiple cases within the building.
It’s been a heart-wrenching time for my family. Growing up, I would rarely see my mother cry. Since all of this began, I’ve seen her cry every single day. For the first time in my life, I’ve seen my oldest brother sob right next to me. The fact that my grandparents had to spend their 67th wedding anniversary without seeing or talking to each other is simply disheartening.
For right now, all we are focused on is getting Poppy home — getting him to a place of serenity. No more pushing it off for later, because there might not be later. All we need is more positive energy and prayers to keep him healthy enough to come home.
(Michael Morrissey is a sophomore acting and journalism double major at SUNY Fredonia)
*The Leader staff has been informed that Morrissey’s grandfather lost his battle with COVID-19 on April 28.*
Rest In Peace Leonard Anthony Vetere, (March 18, 1930 – April 28, 2020)