‘New Lamps for Old’ Brings Vital Changes at Edgemoor

Six previously bedridden patients, none of whom had been known to walk in this decade--and for whom there was little hope of rehabilitation--can be seen walking the corridors of Edgemoor Geriatric Hospital today. Two others have made such progress in the last year that they have been discharged to lower levels of care.

In addition, a young, acutely ill patient in the psychiatric unit, who knew that I was afraid of him every time I came on the ward, has been discharged to a board-and-care home and now remembers my name in a friendly voice. The choice for him, other than Edgemoor, was to have been placed at Patton State Hospital.

New lamps for old. That’s what this last year has been. It has been about painting the walls and remodeling and breathing life into a facility of last resort. It has been about reshaping the dietary department, which now serves hot meals, and bringing back county maintenance workers.

Most importantly, it’s been hundreds of Edgemoor employees sharing these little triumphs, keeping the faith and learning how to believe in themselves again, after living through a year of reporters seeking to expose all the hospital’s warts. We who have lived and worked at the facility know the whole story. The one not fully told. The one that would offset the “crisis” in the minds of the public.

From 1922 through 1955, Edgemoor was known as the county “poor farm.” The Santee hospital was home to more than 500 indigent and elderly men and women. During the Great Depression, the “farm” and its residents struggled, as did the nation, to survive.

In 1955, evidence of the growing number of elderly poor in San Diego County persuaded the Board of Supervisors to convert the facility into a geriatric hospital.

Edgemoor took in men and women whose behavioral problems and physical needs were so staggering that private hospitals would not accept them. At one point, Edgemoor’s formal admission policy was to accept only those patients who had been rejected by at least six private, skilled-nursing facilities. The county, in effect, had become the public guardian of the elderly indigent and helpless.

Today’s Edgemoor Geriatric Hospital, with 323 beds, often has a waiting list of 200, many of whom have no family to provide needed care and support, and almost all of whom are unable to purchase the care needed for their own survival.

For the better part of a year, Edgemoor has been through a trial by fire. We acknowledge that problems have existed. But in a setting such as Edgemoor, where most of the patients cannot bathe or feed themselves and are afflicted with serious behavior problems, it is likely that we will always experience problems of one sort or another.

What I have resented is the single-minded perspective of substandard care that has been presented to the public. It has long been said that the perception of facts, not the facts themselves, shapes public opinion and public policy. It’s not whether what we have done is wrong, but whether it appears wrong, that has made the difference. It’s been the turn of phrase and the carelessly (or carefully) placed adjective that have fueled the crisis at Edgemoor--a fuel that neither the patients and their families nor the staff deserved.

Yes, some of our employees have made mistakes. Yes, there was a loss of institutional memory and an erosion of management systems that resulted in neglect. But Edgemoor Hospital was never anywhere near as substandard as many believed. Fortunately, there are relatives of Edgemoor patients who have compared our care to that of others. They have been consistent in their support of the hospital--for which we are deeply grateful.

But the crisis provided us with the opportunity to make progress that might otherwise have taken years. We are proud that Edgemoor was certified by the state Health Department in June, 1985, shortly after the notice of intent to terminate certification. We are also proud of the three-year, unconditional accreditation by the Joint Commission for the Accreditation of Hospitals in the fall of 1985. We are proud of our recent approval for membership in the California Assn. of Health Facilities.

The addition of more than 100 employees during the last year has made the difference.

The challenge now is to maintain and enhance our progress. And we are working on a master plan--the hospital’s first--to help guide this progress during the coming decades.

What we are trying to do is provide a hospital that would be good enough for our parents should they ever need such a home.

I took an “administrative interest” in Mrs. B, one of the hospital’s oldest patients. Many of the staffers on her ward knew how close I was to her. Some would laugh when I referred to her as my “grandmother.” Then, I would remind them that she was somebody’s grandmother--that we are all connected in this life--and by the grace of God, we find ourselves out here in Santee, holding the door for those who are in need of assistance during this time of their lives.

When I die, I would like to die in my sleep. I would like to leave this life for the next before I can no longer eat regular food and laugh and sing and make music; before I can no longer see the grandchildren I don’t have yet; before my hands can no longer feel. I would not like to prolong my departure, nor would I like to suffer. I am sure that many, if not all of us, share my vision for a peaceful demise.

But if, by chance, I should outlive my wife and children and find myself alone and in need of care, I would want someone to place my name on the waiting list at Edgemoor Geriatric Hospital--so that the twilight of my life can be spent around people who care for me, who smile when they step into my room, who bathe me in a comforting way and who take pride in their service to humanity.