-by Frank Macdonald
For more than a week now, caregivers and support staff at the Inverary Manor have been on strike. The primary purpose behind this job action is wages. It is not difficult to understand why. Just watch the ever-increasing prices in your own cart when grocery shopping.
Escalating food prices is just one one of the challenges these Manor employees are facing in an economy that that is leaving more and more of Canada’s workers behind. Power bills have a way of muscling in on everyone’s paycheck, as does gas, oil and a bedroom or two of children. These are frequently crippling costs that can cause employees of the Inverary Manor to lose sleep. Their need is evident.
When I pass the picket line on Central Avenue, what I am most reminded about is that our Inverary Manor is filled with residents whose very care is filled with professionalism and love.
A few years ago my Aunt Lila was a resident of the Manor. My wife, Virginia, and myself visited her together or separately at least five days a week. It was Virginia who was able to choose Lila’s room, a room she told me she would also love to occupy when the time came.
During those frequent visits, that included me being Lila’s guest for Christmas dinner, we became familiar with the care given in Oceanview Villa, a quality of care that can also be projected throughout the other villas that comprise Inverary Manor. And we became familiar enough with Oceanview’s other residents that one or both of us was often recruited when a table was short one or two people to fill out a game of auction.
It was also a place where we heard so many stories, a generation passing along their memories. In many cultures, the “elders” are the population’s most respected citizens. That level of respect is not so evident throughout North America except in a handful of cultures.
In the Inverary Manor (I can’t speak for others) what we witnessed was the type of respect elders have earned for the quality of the lives and leadership they have lived. Aunt Lila lived there for more than two years, made new friends. Former nurses who were now residents, told me stories of Lila’s gift with children. In St. Mary’s Hospital, she was assigned to the nursery. “You could always tell when Lila was in the nursery,” one nurse told me. “There was one time when we had 11 babies in the nursery and not a cry coming from it. We knew that Lila was on duty.”
It was a beautiful story about an aunt who wouldn’t tell that story herself, being a person who simply went about her work of providing to those who needed her. Not significantly different than the care these striking Manor employees provide to those under their care…when they are able to. Because right now they are on the picket-line demanding a wage that will allow them to provide the same kind of care for those whom they have at home, as they do for those in the Inverary Manor.
There were many stories about other residents whose state of physical or mental health required them becoming a resident. And they become something more than “residents.” They become the people they have always been, treated with respect. When Aunt Lila died, I became aware that I was not crying alone in her room. I became aware the staff too had also suffered a loss.
The place was pleasant, peaceful. And it was evident why! The quality of care and caring provided by the staff made the Inverary Manor a home. Whether it was to assist in mobility, or wheel someone to Mass (or bingo), staff carried out these responsibilities in good humour.
An entertainment director kept residents involved in several activities, not the least of which was recruiting or making space for musicians who wanted to perform for the people in the Manor. Some of the County’s finest fiddlers, dancers, pianists, and vocalists gave, and still give, willingly.
In fact, among the Manor population itself are one or two musicians, pianists primarily, whose talent had taken them to every dance hall and concert in Cape Breton, and venues across Canada and USA. And today, as Manor residents themselves they still perform for their fellow housemates.
When my wife, Virginia, became ill, reaching a point where I could no longer provide the care she required, she was placed on the list for the Manor. But there was no room at the Inn. She was hospitalized until a place in the Manor opened. Her mind and memory were slowly vanishing, but she remembered and looked forward to becoming a resident. After 5½ months in the hospital, waiting, Virginia suffered a fall. Within a week she had died. My regret was that no room had opened up for her in a place where she wanted to be, a place she still understood as being a good place to be.
I am of an age myself when I can see in the fairly foreseeable future the need, for my own health and safety, to become a Manor resident. For the present, I will hold my own in my own fortress for as long as possible, but becoming a Manor resident (if there is room) doesn’t disturb me. I have friends there already. And a staff to care for me whom I have come to respect in years past, and have no reason to believe that has changed.
I don’t know what accommodations are currently being made for resident care. Management? Family care?
I am certain that all level of emergency care would love to see its staff return to the villas of Inverary Manor. All it will take is the recognition and compassion of a government and premier which are, to this point, willing to allow a respected segment of the province’s workforce to miss meagre wage after meagre wage while they wait for Premier Tim Houston to come to his senses, and begin talking real dollars and cents with those who so desperately deserve it.