Last month the world marked five years since the onset of the COVID crisis.
Millions died, industries came to a halt, and our frontline workers exemplified what heroes look like.
We were in it together, until we were not — especially in how we treated our seniors. In Ontario, the COVID crisis devasted long-term care homes and seniors more generally. Caring for seniors became a top political issue.
Five years later, those devastating lessons about our failure to keep seniors safe have been thrown to the wayside.
Imagine your loved one living somewhere with “feces smeared on walls, residents going missing, a death as a result of errors, improperly administered medicine, verbal abuse and concerns of sexual abuse by staff.”
This is from CBC News, on a damning report released last week from Newfoundland and Labrador's auditor general, on the state of care homes for seniors in that province.
Here in Ontario, late last year residents of a retirement home in Norwich were left scrambling after being given two weeks’ notice to vacate, seemingly violating the Retirement Homes Act, which requires a 120-day notice to residents.
While the province stepped in to help residents find new homes to live, it’s become common for retirement homes and long-term care homes to shut down, only for the owners to sell or convert them into condos. Many residents are left without housing. When Parkview Manor in Chesley closed late last year, the Star reported that it brought the total number of beds lost in the province to 800 in a three-year span.
“We have about 200,000 beds across Canada and we predict we need another 199,000 more additional beds,” said Dr. Samir Sinha in an interview with CTV Your Morning last year. “We need double what we have by 2035.”
“So, when we hear about beds that are closing, homes that are closing, it just means that there are more people who need to be accommodated with less beds available,” he said.
He also explained that about 25,000 beds are in old homes that require maintenance. But he added that the owners might say: “It’s not worth it. We’d rather take our land that we own and our buildings and turn them into condos.”
According to the Ontario Long-Term Care Association, roughly 48,000 people are on a waitlist for care in this province.
Ontarians are about to vote in the second election of the year, and yet the issues impacting seniors have not gained traction. We can all agree that our country’s sovereignty should be front and centre. But both the Liberals and Conservatives seem more focused on petty issues like the size of their rallies than the fact that our most venerated population is being treated in ways most of us wouldn’t want for our parents or grandparents.
Politicians know that this demographic will show up to vote. Perhaps, they should not treat them as a monolith or disposable. While some seniors can live alone and have generous pensions, many are concerned with affordability and surviving on a fixed income. Both those votes count the same.
A few weeks ago, I had to go to my hometown of London. My father had been admitted to hospital.
When I walked into the hospital room, my dad was hiding under the bedsheet reading a book. His roommate was sitting in the walkway, talking to some other patients who were sitting on a bench. I wasn’t sure if my dad was sleeping, so I whispered, “Dad, are you awake?” He popped his head up, his hair completely white now, laying straight down his head.
My dad’s smile spread across his face. He quickly sat up as my son moved closer to give him a hug.
I stood at the foot of his bed, trying to take everything in without breaking down in tears.
My father and I don’t have a close relationship. Over the last decade or so, my siblings and I have worked to help him pay his rent, his bills, and whatever else he needed. We are the ones who have been there to help.
Last year, he lost his subsidized housing, and since then, it has been like a game of whack-a-mole to make sure he is safe and not living on the streets.
I often wonder what other seniors go through who do not have the support of family or friends.
In the past, my father received notices from his subsidized housing because of an unfiled tax return. Over and over again, my siblings and I have argued with some well-meaning rep, explaining that my father has a form of early-onset dementia. He has trouble figuring out how to use the new laundry machines in his building. He doesn’t have the understanding to keep his paperwork up to date. And if he doesn’t file his taxes, then he can’t receive his benefits. Without benefits, he can’t pay his rent or buy groceries (if he remembers to). Suddenly, he is at risk of ending up on the street. And so on and so on.
Why am I telling you this? My story isn’t unique. I am a part of the sandwich generation. Millions of us across the country are raising young children while caring for our aging parents. I remember as a kid being taught to take care of the elders in my community. In my culture, we kneel for elders when we greet them or serve them food.
Perhaps it’s because I am in the thick of it, but I fail to see how we can continue to ignore the needs of our most vulnerable: our parents and grandparents who helped to build this province and country. As a parent, I haven’t forgotten the pandemic because I see the effects of it on my children daily. I also cannot forget how we treated our elders. I think of something that the great Globe and Mail columnist and author André Picard wrote in his book, Neglected No More: “There are those who will be looking for villains — politicians, care home operators, workers who walked off the job. But the real villain in this tragedy is society’s profound and long-standing neglect of elders. A reckoning is in order.”
If not a reckoning, a realization that if we are lucky to grow old, it may be us in the positions our elders are in currently. Perhaps out of self-preservation, we should act now.
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