in the aged care home's "Entertainment Lounge"
Padma and I have just been in town to pick up an old friend, Rosie, to visit her husband, Bill, who was moved into an aged care home a few weeks ago. Let's make myself quite clear before I get to his age: just five minutes in that place convinced me that wild horses couldn't drag me in there.
Of course, we had to do a COVID-test and sign a visitors book before we could enter this "boutique 40-bed aged care centre offering professional personalised care in modern surroundings". According to this visitors book, we were the only visitors when we entered, and we were still the only visitors when we signed out four hours later, and that on a public holiday when the place should to be swarming with visiting relatives. The words "warehoused" and "abandoned and forgotten" sprang to mind.
Bill's room was spartan: a bed, a bedside table, a chair, and an adjoining bathroom. No telephone, no television, no radio, no pictures on the wall. Inmates in our prison system are given more creature comforts.
Luckily, there are alternatives, although they are a little farther afield: many years ago, I checked out places in Bali which, for a fraction of the costs of a bed in an Australian aged care home, offer a retirement disguised as an endless tropical holiday, complete with swimming pool, exotic food, private masseuse, and excellent medical facilities nearby.
I nearly bought the Banjar Hills Retreat which was for sale then. It's off the beaten tourist track and not a paying proposition and has since changed hands twice, and I'm sure the new owners would be very happy if I offered them a long-term rental of all three bungalows, all for a mere fraction of the cost of a room in an Australian aged care home. Why, if they were tired of owning it, I would even buy it off them!
Just reading books, looking at the sky, listening to the song of birds, or taking a swim at any hour of the day or night in the pool (or in the ocean which is a short, death-defying bejak-ride away), or enjoying those hour-long massages by my favourite masseuse, Ketut Anggreni.
(or in the ocean which is a short, death-defying bejak-ride away)...
I'm sure I would have lots of friends very keen to visit me, unlike poor Bill who won't see me for quite a while as I'm still recovering from the depressing atmosphere inside his aged care home. Meanwhile, Padma will pick up Rosie to drive her there whenever she wants to visit Bill.
(The staff of the aged care home used to give Rosie a lift home at the end of each day, until Management heard of it and forbade them this small act of kindness for legal reasons. The world has become a poorer place ever since we have turned as litigious as our American cousins.)
