#nursing at home care

[feminist-space]

[womenstruation]

It always angers me when people say that men would not put in so much effort to enact their violence on women and children because they do exactly that.

I was only seven when I learnt about just how hard men try to deceive the world so they can have free reign over young girls. I went on a Brownie trip to an orphanage back when I lived in Nigeria. The orphanage was just for girls which isn't uncommon, and it was massive, with its own school, shops, clinic etc. The girls had no reason to leave. It was set up by a pastor- a Nigerian who'd moved back from abroad.

I remember while we were there, one of the girls had just had a baby. She had seemed so old to me but looking back, she must have been around sixteen or seventeen. I remember my mum seemed suspicious when we were told the girl had run away and returned pregnant. She seemed even more so when we met the owner.

A year or two later, there was news on the radio. The man who had set up the orphanage had raped and impregnated several girls, selling their babies to prospective parents. I didn't even understand what rape meant back then but I remember my mum being devastated. Looking back, I think she might have felt guilty, perhaps she'd seen the signs: the girls not being allowed to leave the compound; teenage girls ending up pregnant. It seemed so obvious.

But no one questioned a man who used all of his money to build and set up a home for vulnerable girls, he was a pastor, educated, well-travelled. He could never have done something so cruel. But he did.

When I was writing this post, I tried to find any articles but I couldn't. They were just so many identical cases, man sets up orphanage, rapes and abuses children in the orphanage. Different cases, different years, one as recent as 2023. What I learnt back then and know for sure is that men would do anything, no matter how difficult or expensive, anything to have access to people they can abuse.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hello Stranger. Whom I have never met.

 [First] Prev <–-> Next

[giddlygoat]

i’m my mind, mario’s casual fits are all checkered low-top vans, jorts and “eat sleep game repeat” or racing tour shirts and luigi looks like he puts granola in his yogurt. like visor caps and fanny packs. i’m talking socks with the sandals, people

[mayomkun]

Rewatching dead boy detectives and I love the music box that starts playing when Charles started hitting the night nurse. Like, the haunting melody went so well with the shock of what we learned about Charles' past and his sudden outburst (spiralling out of control, the feeling of the world beating down on you over and over and even when you try your best, be your best self, it isn't enough and there isn't anything you can do). And then morphed to something more upbeat/thrilling when she fell into the sea, followed by complete silence with Charles' breakdown. Oughhhhhhhhh

[wat3rm370n]

The Stigma of the Dark Ages.

What they’re talking about here is a society which has moved backwards, and is paying consequences already.

NPR - As the respiratory virus season approaches, where does the vaccination rate stand? November 27, 20244:47 AM ET Heard on Morning Edition By Rob Stein , Rob Schmitz Part of it is the lingering skepticism and outright hostility from the pandemic toward the COVID vaccine specifically and vaccines in general. Another factor is that people tend to underestimate how dangerous both viruses can be while overestimating vaccination risks. There's a lot of misinformation about how well the vaccines work and how safe they are. And finally, a lot of folks are just sick of vaccines because of all the shots they've gotten over the last few years. You know, put it all together and a lot of people are just feeling kind of done with vaccines. I talked about this with Dr. Gregory Poland. He's president of the Atria Academy of Science and Medicine in New York. GREGORY POLAND: “As a society right now, we're in a phase of rejecting expertise, of mistrust of any expert, whether it's science, meteorology, medicine, government - whatever it is.”

This is not unusual, there is no guarantee that society progresses forward. The Dark Ages happened, and that period was not the only time of regression on science.

MedPage Today - Nursing Homes Fell Behind on Vaccinating Patients for COVID — Billing complexities and patient skepticism partially to blame by Sarah Boden, KFF Health News December 5, 2024 Loveland has seen patients and coworkers at the nursing home where she works die from the viral disease. Now she has a new worry: bringing home the coronavirus and unwittingly infecting her infant daughter, Maya, born in May. Loveland's maternity leave ended in late June, when Maya wasn't yet 2 months old. Infants cannot be vaccinated against COVID until they are 6 months old. Children younger than that suffer the highest rates of hospitalization of any age group except people 75 or older. Between her patients' complex medical needs and their close proximity to one another, COVID continues to pose a grave threat to Loveland's nursing home -- and to the 15,000 other certified nursing homes in the U.S. where some 1.2 million people live. Despite this risk, a CDC report published in April found that just four in 10 nursing home residents in the U.S. received an updated COVID vaccine in the winter of 2023-24.

Going forward is a choice.

Public comment to CDC HICPAC committee November 2024 Infection control in healthcare. Chloe Humbert Nov 15, 2024 The Dark Ages was called that because society moved backwards from the technological advances that had come before. The fall of the Roman Empire was marked by elites who only cared about the status quo; they could’ve developed a steam engine as far back as Heron in 15 BC but didn’t bother. Going forward is a choice. In an article in the Journal of Infectious Diseases & Preventive Medicine there’s a description of what happened back then. “In medieval times, hospitals were hazardous places, Epidemic infections killed large numbers of hospital patients during this period. Hospital infection and death rates were high. When a sick person entered a hospital, his or her property was disposed of, and in some regions, a requiem mass was held, as if he or she had already died.” Going backward is a choice.

Stigma is part of a backward slide, and even if people don’t choose to go backward, we are all subject to community level leadership influences.

It’s called STIGMA. - wat3rm370n on tumblr - Oct 4th, 2024 When you hear that “people are tired of it” - that’s also part of stigma. And it’s not necessarily true that people are actually just sick of it - but they keep being told they should be. Informational learned helplessness can do that to us. Stigma is leveraged and reinforced on purpose by big money industry interests who think any reminder of danger at all is bad for business. So it’s to some degree manufactured stigma.

[thashining]

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[incorrect-hs-quotes]

KARKAT: MY FRIEND WORKS TWO JOBS AND DOESN’T TEND TO SPECIFY WHICH ONE SHE’S TALKING ABOUT, SO SHE’LL SAY STUFF LIKE…

GA: A Lady Died At Work Today

KARKAT: AND THE REST OF US HAVE TO PLAY A FUN LITTLE GAME CALLED "NURSING HOME OR YANKEE CANDLE".

KARKAT: TODAY SHE GOES…

GA: Someone Threw A Candle At Me At Work

KARKAT: …AND I THINK I CAN FINALLY RELIABLY PIN DOWN ONE OF HER ANECDOTES BUT NOPE!

KARKAT: IT WAS THE WRETCHED NURSING HOME!!!!!

[seobnity]

⚉ characters: keeho x fem!reader

⤷(with rest of P1Harmony)

⚉ wc: 3,1k

⚉ genre: slice of life, angst, comfort, found family(?), family drama

⚉ theme: stepbrother!keeho, stepsister!reader

⚉ warnings: discussion of grief and loss (death of a parent), family abandonment themes, mention of nursing home and mobility problems

⚉ a/n: welcome or welcome back! This one was little tough to write but still very fun. I also need to say thank you to my friend who helped me with this story because I had some struggles. And also thank you so much for reading, leaving a heart or even reblogging - it means a lot to me! If you see any mistakes, please feel free to kindly correct me ♡

"So... what did he say?" Your gaze remained fixed on the phone your step brother now held in his hand, having just picked it up from the table when a notification appeared.

Keeho didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he read the message from his father—a response you both had been anticipating, though you already knew exactly what it would say. Keeho's silence only confirmed your suspicions.

"I can’t come, right?" You lowered your eyes to your cup of coffee, your voice trembling slightly, betraying the emotions you were struggling to suppress.

"It’s not... that." At last, Keeho spoke, though his voice lacked conviction.

"No?" You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. "Then what is it? What’s the reason I can’t come with you?" Before Keeho could answer, you cut him off. "Let me guess," you said, pausing for effect, your tone edging on bitter. "The place where you’re supposed to meet isn’t ‘appropriate’ for someone like me. Am I right?"

"Y/N," 

"Keeho, don’t." You shook your head, a small sigh escaping your lips. You were so tired of his father’s behavior, always acting like you were never truly part of the family. "I’m just... It makes me sad, you know? It’s like I never mattered to him. Which doesn’t make any sense after everything he has done for me and my mom." You paused, taking a moment to collect your thoughts.

This whole... situation that began after your mom passed away left you angry, sad, and confused. You felt many emotions at once—overwhelmed, like a battle raging within you, where every feeling fought for dominance. It always ended with you in tears, wondering how things had spiraled to this point.

"I think it’s just funny how Mom always said he treated me like his own daughter. But now? He tells me we’ll practically be complete strangers after she’s gone. I mean, he has a point, but c'mon? How can you say that to someone you basically raised?" Your frustration spilled over as your voice broke slightly. "He was my father figure, my dad, for over a decade. And now? Now he’s acting like all those years never even happened. Like he's completely fine with calling me a stranger. It hurts. It seriously hurts," you looked up, trying to hold in your tears. You promised yourself not to cry about this again, yet, it always ends up like this.

Keeho watched you sadly, but more importantly, he listened. He didn’t excuse his father like others did with sentences such as, “Not everyone can handle that. You’re lucky he took care of you for this long,” or, “Oh, he’s still a young man. He needs to go out and find someone.” Comments like these only made you feel like a burden. But Keeho was the only one who truly understood your point of view, and for that, you were always grateful.

Once you calmed down a bit, you continued your rant. All those bottled-up emotions came rushing out in waves. Knowing yourself, you’d probably feel bad later for making Keeho sit through all of this—but that was a problem for future you.

"And let’s not forget that he found some chick not even two months after Mom died and married her five months into the relationship." You shook your head in disbelief.

Even though the words had come from your own mouth, you still couldn’t believe them. He and your mom had been in a happy marriage—everyone saw that. It was obvious, even to strangers. People could see how healthy their relationship was; it was almost sickening how sweet they were to each other. They had known each other since childhood, so their bond wasn’t just romantic—it was also built on a strong friendship. They always had each other’s backs, always went the extra mile for one another. And yet, with your mom’s death, all of that just... disappeared?

That didn’t sit right with you. And you had a theory about why that could have happened—a theory that, sadly, felt too accurate. You knew Keeho thought the same thing as you, though neither of you wanted to say it out loud because it wouldn’t change a thing.

You hunched over the table once again and took a sip of your coffee, which had already gone cold. Keeho, on the other hand, didn’t have to deal with this problem; his coffee was long gone—a complete contrast to you as a slow drinker, him being a quick one.

"Look, Y/N, I promise that as soon as I save enough money to buy a proper house, I’ll take you out of this nursing home." Finally, it was Keeho’s turn to speak. "I know you don’t deserve this. I know you don’t deserve to live... here." He eyed the room you were both in, and you did the same, even though you were here 24/7 and knew the room like the back of your hand.

Plain white walls with one small window overlooking empty fields and plain white furniture (two chairs were actually gray) that you had to buy yourself because this nursing home didn’t provide furniture for the rooms. And that was completely fine; you could at least make it to your liking. But buying furniture, even for one room, could get pretty expensive. You didn’t have money to throw around, especially when your stepdad—or ex-step dad—didn’t help with anything. He was the one who made you find a nursing home for yourself, in the first place.

To be honest, you were forced to find one because he casually told you that you had four months to get out of the house because he couldn’t take care of you anymore. Which you knew was total bullshit, but everyone around him bought it and actually praised him for doing it for so long. They never asked you about your opinion or how you felt. Only Keeho did.

"You get used to it," you shrugged. "I plan to put up some posters on the walls. I don’t know how I'll do it yet, but I’ll figure something out," you added, still eyeing the somehow depressing white walls.

"That doesn’t change the fact that you don’t deserve to live like this. To live here, in the middle of nowhere," Keeho insisted. "Have you ever been outside since you got here? No, right? Because there’s nowhere to go, and all around you are just old people you can’t have a proper conversation with." He looked you in the eyes, and the two of you held the gaze for a moment before you turned your attention back to your coffee, gripping the cup tightly.

"You know what?" Keeho said, pulling out his phone, which he had pocketed after receiving his father’s text earlier. "I won’t go. I know he’ll actually be happier being alone with his chick rather than having me around," he muttered while typing. "And... done." He set his phone down after a moment, having apparently responded to a few other messages as well.

"Are you sure about this?" You raised your eyebrows, not entirely convinced he was making the right decision. "I mean... I don’t want to hold you back from spending time with your dad," you admitted honestly.

Yes, Keeho and his dad didn’t have the best relationship, but he was still Keeho’s father, after all. You also knew Keeho rarely visited him unless it was something important—which it never was. His dad only invited him over for food or to "hang out" to get credit and admiration from others, pretending to care about his son when it suited him.

Keeho gave you a look of disbelief, as if wondering how you could even say such a thing. "I’d much rather be here with you, my little sister, than with my dad."

You searched his face, trying to see if he was lying, but his sincerity shone through, and his words warmed your heart. "You meant stepsister," you corrected him, even though you knew this term, after your mom's death, wasn’t also accurate anymore.

"Nope, I meant sister," he said firmly. "My dad may see you as a stranger now, but to me, you’ll always be my little sister."

Thanks to his sincerity, a small smile tugged at your lips. "Can you stop calling me little? I’m twenty-one already," you teased, shifting the topic slightly to avoid getting emotional again.

"But you’re still younger than me, lil’ sis," he said with a sweet, teasing smile.

To be honest? You weren’t complaining. That teasing was exactly what you needed—a distraction from all the heavy emotions swirling in your mind.

Suddenly, Keeho’s phone buzzed again with another notification. This time, you paid it no attention, focusing instead on your coffee, which was growing even colder in your hands. It was probably his dad pretending to be disappointed that Keeho wasn’t coming over, but honestly? You didn’t care.

"Do you want to stay overnight at my flat?" Keeho asked, catching you completely off guard.

"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Do you want to stay overnight at my flat? It shouldn’t be a problem if I take you out, right?" A playful smile appeared on his lips.

"Well, no," you said, shaking your head. "It’s a little sudden, but I just need to tell the caregivers here that I’ll be leaving and coming back tomorrow. That’s all," you explained.

"Perfect." He smacked the table with his hand, signaling it was time to go. "Just grab a jacket and whatever else you need. You still have everything at my place from the last sleepover forever ago," he reminded you, and you nodded.

"Could you please put the cups in the sink?" you asked. Keeho nodded, stood up, grabbed both cups, and placed them in the sink as you requested.

The kitchen was part of your room, so it only took him a few steps to complete the task. While Keeho waited, you released the brakes on your wheelchair and moved towards the drawers where you kept your belongings. You pulled out a light jacket (just in case it got chilly outside) and your backpack, which held your essentials. You also grabbed your phone and charger—items you never left behind.

"Ready?" Keeho asked, taking your backpack and jacket for you to keep your hands free.

"Yes." You nodded with a small smile, already feeling happy about leaving this place, even if it was just for a night. The two of you exited your room, you locked the door, and headed towards the elevator. Keeho pressed the button, and you waited.

"Which floor are the caregivers on?" he asked as the elevator doors closed once you were inside.

"The first one," you replied, and he pressed the button. "You can wait in your car while I talk to them, okay? It won’t take long, but they’ll probably have some questions," you added with a small chuckle.

"Okay, if you say so."

When the elevator dinged, signaling it had reached the first floor, you wheeled yourself out while Keeho continued to the ground floor. You made your way to the caregivers’ office, hoping someone would be there. Fortunately, luck was on your side—it was one of your favorite caregivers.

You explained your plans to her, and she was genuinely thrilled to hear about them. Her excitement warmed your heart. She asked a few questions, mostly out of curiosity about where you were going and who you’d be with, since you rarely left your room. In fact, you never left. There was simply nothing to do, either in the nursing home or outside, so you didn’t see the point in going out.

Once that was done, you made your way back to the elevator, went to the ground floor, and found Keeho waiting for you, leaning casually against his car.

"How does it feel to be outside?" Keeho asked smugly, grinning as he opened the passenger door for you.

"Boring," you shrugged as you moved from your wheelchair into the car seat. You were never much of an outdoors person anyway.

"Oh, come on. Can you try being a little positive?" he teased, shaking his head in mock exasperation before closing the door.

He walked to the trunk, loaded your wheelchair inside, and finally settled into the driver’s seat. Keeho started the car and pulled away from the nursing home. As the building vanished behind you, you felt a huge sense of relief — it felt like something heavy had finally been lifted from your chest, even if it was just for a few hours. It was interesting how much lighter and happier you already felt, knowing you wouldn’t be there for at least a little while.

The ride to Keeho’s flat took about an hour. Yeah, you could say it’s not that far; you could travel that by yourself, but it takes an hour by car. If you wanted to take the bus, it would take at least two hours, and from the nursing home, there’s only one bus that runs twice a day. You didn’t want to stress about that, nor were you exactly thrilled about traveling for that long, both there and back. Plus, the bus tickets weren’t exactly cheap either.

During the drive, the two of you talked about random topics to pass the time and even had a mini singing session to the songs playing on the radio.

When you arrived at the apartment complex where Keeho lived, he unloaded your wheelchair from the trunk while you unfastened your seatbelt and opened the door. Once you were back in your wheelchair, Keeho grabbed your backpack and jacket from the car, locked it, and the two of you headed inside the building.

When you reached the door to his flat, Keeho unlocked it and let you in first. You were immediately hit by the familiar smell of apple and cinnamon — Keeho’s favorite candle scent. 

To avoid being in Keeho’s way, you moved into the living room, where a big surprise awaited you. At first, it gave you a bit of a heart attack, but you quickly realized it was just Keeho’s dumb friends, who had gradually become your friends too, and you cherished them dearly.

"Y/N!" five boys shouted in cheerful unison the moment they saw you. All of them rushed over to greet you, each giving you a warm hug.

Well, except for Theo, who was also very excited to see you after a long time, but he was smart enough to wait for his turn to hug you, so he wouldn’t get squished by his friends while they were trying to group-hug you.

You didn’t even have time to properly take a look at the living room, which had been turned into a cozy haven by the boys, but there would surely be time to appreciate it later.

"Hi, guys," you said, still a little in shock (though, of course, you hugged them back), happy to see them regardless. "What are you all doing here?" you asked, curious.

"Keeho texted us that you’d be here overnight, so we decided to organize a proper sleepover," Jiung answered enthusiastically. "We got loads of movies, especially horror ones, fluffy blankets, and tons of snacks and drinks," he added with a big grin, clearly proud of what they’d pulled together while you and Keeho were on your way.

You looked up to see Keeho entering the living room, which was way too small for all of you, but no one seemed to care. After all, it was about having a good time with your friends, not about how small Keeho’s flat was. Keeho glanced at you with a small smile; no words were needed. Yet, you wanted to say thank you, to somehow show him your gratitude, but you couldn’t, because you were suddenly lifted into the air.

"What the—" you looked around and quickly spotted the culprit who had picked you up from your wheelchair. "Intak! What did I tell you about randomly picking me up? You can’t just do that!" you scolded him in a nagging tone but couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto your face.

"I know, I know," he acknowledged with a nod as he carried you towards the couch. "But you have to understand, I missed you way too much and just couldn’t resist holding you in my arms." He flashed you a sweet smile, complete with puppy eyes that always worked on you. That’s why whenever the boys wanted something from you (or did something that might have made you mad), they would use Intak and his puppy eyes to soften you up and get their way.

"Sure," you said, playfully rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help letting out a chuckle, which made Intak smile even wider. "What a romantic you are."

"Me? Always." As soon as he said it, you heard fake gagging noises from the other boys, especially the younger ones, which only made you laugh; how much you’d missed this.

By the time your conversation ended, Intak had already reached the couch and carefully set you down. You ended up right in the middle, with the best view and easy access to all the snacks and drinks the boys had brought.

"Hey, I was supposed to be the one sitting on one of her sides!" Intak complained, frowning when he noticed Soul and Jongseob, the two youngest of the group, already sitting on either side of you with a big blanket draped over all of you.

"Hm, yikes," said Jongseob, barely paying attention to Intak’s whining as he grabbed some chips from the table. "Sounds like a you problem," he looked at Intak with a triumphant grin, and Soul quickly nodded in agreement.

"These kids, really," Intak muttered to himself, turning toward the armchair right next to the couch. "Seriously?" he said, frustration kicking in.

Theo was already lounging in the armchair, his legs draped over one armrest and a bowl of popcorn balanced in his lap. Without a word, Theo simply shrugged, clearly having no intention of moving. Intak groaned and turned back towards the couch, ready to claim a spot near your legs, only to find Jiung and Keeho already seated there.

"This is impossible," he sighed dramatically, collapsing in defeat on the floor in front of the table — the only space left for him to occupy.

All of you (except for Intak, of course) burst into small fits of laughter at his misfortune. But the moment passed quickly as Jiung pressed play on the TV remote, starting the first of many movies for the night.

With Soul and Jongseob snuggled up on either side of you, your arms wrapped protectively around them under the blanket, you let out a slow exhale through your nose. A wave of contentment washed over you as you relaxed into the moment, savoring it to the fullest.

[lale-txt]

after months i’m finally back on korean convenience store asmr and i missed it so dearly

[macgyvermedical]

Home Nursing Advice Column #3: Treating Cuts

Cuts are common injuries that range from extremely minor to extremely severe. Being able to determine whether or not you can take care of a cut yourself- or whether you need to seek professional help- is a good skill to have.

Note that if you are uncomfortable at any time taking care of a cut in yourself or someone else, stop and get help. This is for educational purposes only and should not be your only source.

First, make sure you are safe, and secure whatever it was that caused the injury.

Second, stop bleeding. Most bleeding can be stopped by applying firm, direct pressure over the top of the wound. If the wound is spurting blood, or you cannot stop the bleeding by applying pressure, you need to call local emergency services or go to an emergency department. This type of wound is likely to require surgery to fix.

If you were able to stop the bleeding, the next goal is to clean the wound. The only thing you need to clean a wound is water. Using alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, or iodine damages the tissue in the wound and delays healing. The water used needs to be clean enough to drink, but does not need to be sterile.

Run water through the wound to remove any visible debris. If (non-spurting) bleeding starts again, keep cleaning- once you are finished cleaning, put pressure on the wound again to stop the bleeding.

If the cut is small (about an inch or smaller in length, gaping no more than a 1/4 inch and no deeper than 1/4 inch), you can close it yourself. To close a cut, dry the edges of the cut well and take some cloth medical tape (or duct tape or band-aids), and cut it into thin (1/4 inch) strips. Hold the edges of the wound together and lay strips of the tape perpendicular to the cut, leaving about a 1/8 inch between each strip and pressing them down on one side. Then, stretch the tape strips taut across the wound and stick them down on the opposite side.

Cover the wound with a bandage and check daily for signs of infection.

If the cut is larger, you're going to want to pack it. If you aren't comfortable doing this, you also may want to seek professional care.

To pack a wound, you'll need some gauze sponges, which you can get at a pharmacy. Moisten these with water clean enough to drink, and insert into the wound. It shouldn't be so tight it is painful, but all parts inside the wound should be touching gauze.

What you are trying to do here is keep the wound open and clean so that it can heal from the bottom up.

Every day, remove the gauze and replace it with new moistened gauze. You should also be looking for signs of infection, including increased pain, swelling, heat, redness, or foul smelling drainage. If you notice any of these, see a professional.

[tyranitarkisser]

Nurse Mituna?! Do you trust her....

[flamboyant-king]

Hey babes, sorry I've been dead, but I coulda been literally dead if I had not gone.

I didn't hurt myself and we're still figuring things out. I would love to share but I've already forgotten what I've learned. I hope I get more guidance and time for healing and learning on how to lead my life in a better direction than where I was. But that takes time and effort.

I hope to get some rest, get some support, and get it together. But right now, I don't think it's healthy for me to worry about art in the way I do now. I may not express it here, but trying to maintain my art endeavors/projects while there's so much bullshit going on backstage is not helping me. Especially since I'm not even obligated to do so. But trying to force myself to do something I am currently unable to do will just make me feel worse. I'll follow my dreams and passions one day, but I've been putting off the healing process for years.

So I guess it's better to get better now so I can get the ball rolling again. Why drive on a flat tire?

[gwydionmisha]

CW: Elder Abuse.

[jrueships]

the booger on it??? also look at his skinty little hand.. how big are these slices damn? no wonder the crust is a lil dark. the bigger it is the longer it bakes n whatnot n so on and so forth

lol man wearing leather pants lol

....

spin around for me.

im talking 180 not the Xbox 360 baby.

... jump .

[stonebutchooze]

whenever I say I worked at a care home people always assume I mean an OLD PEOPLE'S care home and start talking about dementia, and even when I correct them and say no, it was adults of all ages with disabilities like cerebral palsy, some of them younger than me, people still don't listen and start talking about how hard it is "when you get to that age".

like people who live in 24/7 care for their entire adult lives exist!!!! residential care is NOT something that only comes into play at the end of your life. lack of awareness and funding is, in my opinion, partly why negative experiences of full time or respite residential care are so widespread.

ALSO when I successfully clarify that I worked with people of all ages, people start talking about how SAD it is when young people who have conditions like cerebral palsy can't move or talk or whatever. and I ALSO take issue with that. I think seeing disabled people's experiences as wholly "sad" or "what a shame" pre-emptively dictates what kind of life we expect disabled people to live. people in residential care CAN be happy, largely independent, or happy with their level of control where they are dependent on others. if we assume they can't, we won't even try to help them get there.

some people have high support needs at home and then go into residential care. some people spend their whole lives in residential care. some people won't need it at all with proper support and funding at home. people need support, not pity and people seeing their lives as lost causes.