Showing posts with label crisis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crisis. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 8, 2023

US nursing home workers face ‘catastrophic crisis’ of understaffing


by Michael Sainato

For Linda Long, who has worked in nursing homes since 1997, at the same facility outside of Tacoma, Washington, since 2003, understaffing has always been a problem.

It only got worse during the Covid-19 pandemic, when she said co-workers were leaving due to the short staffing, constant Covid outbreaks and the immense workloads that staff were left with to fill in the void.

But, workers and labor experts say, short-staffing in the crucial US industry has persisted after the pandemic, with grave impacts on patient care and residents’ wellbeing, and spiraling burnout that has become pervasive in the care industry.

“Most of the time, I want to cry when I see things and I can’t do any more than I can do,” said Long. “There are times when we have extra people and we’re jumping for joy because I know the residents will have somebody to talk to, but in general we are still short-staffed, which means you look at the residents every day thinking. ‘Oh my God, how am I going to do this for them today?’”

Long said that the care many residents need has to be done by multiple people at a time, such as operating lifts to raise patients in and out of bed to bathe, to eat and to be active, and oftentimes nursing aides aren’t available to help complete these tasks. The short-staffing often results in workers skipping their breaks and lunches, and cutting corners wherever they can to save time so they can attend to every resident.

“You have to decide what to do, what you cannot do, but there’s not one task that can really be left out,” she said. “It really affects the wellbeing of the residents and yours, because you go home knowing you couldn’t do the things you need to do.”

She described the heartbreaking daily experiences she and other workers face when residents are weary about asking staff to help them with something because they see how short-staffed and overworked they are at the facility. And if tasks are skipped or missed, residents’ conditions can quickly deteriorate.

“Showers aren’t being done all the time because we can’t always get to it,” added Long. “People will lose the ability to walk, the ability to sit up, to do a range of motions, and that has a lot to do with being shorthanded because they don’t get any of the basic care they need.”

The Biden administration and labor groups are hoping for change. The US Department of Health and Human Services’ Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS) has proposed a rule to implement minimum staffing standards in long-term care facilities, with the public comment period ending on 6 November. If implemented, it would be the first ever minimum federal staffing standard for nursing homes that care for 1.2 million people.

Under the proposed rule, the CMS estimates 75% of facilities would have to improve staffing in their facilities. The rule would require nursing homes to provide residents with a minimum of 0.55 hours of care from a registered nurse per resident per day and 2.45 hours of care from a nurse aide per resident every day.

More than 50 unions, worker groups and organizations signed on to a letter in support of federal minimum staffing levels in nursing homes, including the Service Employees International Union (SEIU), the AFL-CIO and MomsRising.

“Our country’s long-term care system is in the midst of a catastrophic crisis, and nursing home workers and residents have suffered unspeakable consequences. In the absence of a federal staffing standard, nursing home workers have endured complete physical, mental and emotional exhaustion due to understaffed shifts and unsafe working conditions, and nursing home residents have been robbed of the quality care and quality of life they deserve,” said the SEIU president, Mary Kay Henry, in a statement supporting the standard.

But several nursing home CEOs have written public comments to oppose the rule, claiming it’s not feasible due to costs and labor shortages, with many workers and family members of residents writing in support of the rule or calling to strengthen it.

The nursing home industry is a multibillion-dollar industry with about 70% of nursing homes operating as for-profit facilities. In recent years, private equity firms have increased their ownership or stake in nursing homes, with research demonstrating that private equity ownership results in worse health outcomes.

Tina Siegel has worked as a licensed practical nurse in a nursing home in Erie, Pennsylvania, for 38 years, where she says staffing shortages have always been an issue in the industry but have worsened during the pandemic.

Earlier this year, Pennsylvania enacted statewide staff-to-patient ratios for nursing homes amid pushes from workers like Siegel, which she says have helped to improve staffing issues. She said the ratios are needed nationwide to improve working conditions for staff and the care and dignity that nursing home residents deserve.

“We feel really connected to our residents. We take care of them, some of them we’re the only family they have. We’re there when they’re passing away, and you want to spend time with them because you’re the only person there, but a lot of times you don’t have time to do that either. So … you feel bad because in their last moments of their life, they’re by themselves and that shouldn’t happen to people,” said Siegel.

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US nursing home workers face ‘catastrophic crisis’ of understaffing

Monday, November 16, 2020

40 Dead, Now 40 Laid Off: Inside a Nursing Home in Crisis


By John Leland
Photographs by Christopher Occhicone 

On a recent morning in Staten Island, the quiet at Clove Lakes Health Care and Rehabilitation Center was unsettling. Employees in sanitary gowns and face masks moved through a brightly decorated front area devoid of residents or chatter.

Six months ago, the nursing home was one of the deadliest places in the city, with 40 residents dying in the course of a month. Now the workers who cared for them, sometimes holding their hands as they died, face a second crisis: The home recently laid off more than 40 employees, and others fear they will be next.

“It’s not good,” said Jeanna Engelman, a speech pathologist at the home, speaking with an openness that has been rare among nursing home workers. In the worst times, the intensity of the work built camaraderie among the staff, fueled by fear and the risks they shared. But now, she said, all they can do is worry. “Every time we get paged, we wonder why.”

Theirs are the untold stories of the pandemic: the nursing home workers who reported daily to the viral hot zones, often in facilities without proper protective equipment, and who now face a fiscal crisis beyond their control. Most never spoke publicly about their experiences because the homes did not let them.

At Clove Lakes, the administration allowed the photographer Christopher Occhicone inside beginning in April, when two units were filled with Covid-positive residents. Employees have spoken with rare candor about their experiences, both during the first wave, when people did not know who would die or get sick tomorrow, and in the current financial crash, when they worry about when the next layoffs will strike.



The crisis is not unique to Clove Lakes. In an August survey of homes nationwide, more than half said they were operating at a loss, and nearly three-quarters said they could not last another year if things did not change.

“It’s horrible,” said Lorri Senk, the administrator at Clove Lakes, where revenues have fallen by half, even with the infection rate now close to zero, because patients are afraid to go there. “People are being told by the doctors at the hospital, ‘Don’t take your mother to a nursing home.’

“And you have certain family members who just won’t pay. They’ll say, ‘I have to keep my mother’s Social Security check this month because I lost my job.’”

For the employees, the story of the pandemic begins with the most basic question: How do you go to work when you know that the next shift might be the one that kills you or your loved ones?


Often, what they talked about was Lana.

Lana Bass met her husband at Hunter College in the late 1990s. They were both Ukrainian, studying for careers in health care. She chose geriatrics. “It makes you feel like you’re making a significant change,” she said last month in a telephone interview.

Her first job brought her to Staten Island and Clove Lakes, a for-profit home in the Manor Heights neighborhood with 576 beds and a staff of about 600. The home has above-average ratings from Medicare and below-average ratings from New York’s health department, which compares it to other homes in the state.

When the coronavirus surfaced in New York nursing homes in March, her husband was working as a physician assistant at Coney Island Hospital in Brooklyn, she as a physical therapist at the hulking pale brick structure of Clove Lakes. In those early days, there were no tests available for nursing home workers or residents. Information about the virus, and about how to keep safe, changed almost daily.

“I was worried for myself, for my family,” Ms. Bass said. “You’re scared, you’re uncertain about tomorrow, but you know your responsibilities. You just keep going.”

Then in the middle of March her husband got sick; a few days later, she did as well, probably through contact with him. Her symptoms were mild, akin to a cold. His case was more serious.

“He went to the doctor’s office and then to the hospital right away,” Ms. Bass said. “He was OK. And then everything failed.”

Her husband was still in the hospital, on a ventilator, when she returned to Clove Lakes around April 8, after a week of illness and two weeks of isolation.

“I felt really numb,” she said. “I was worried about my husband, but I knew I had to hold down the fort. I had no other options, of course.” She agreed to work in the newly established Covid unit at the home because she had already had the virus.

In April, the staff arrived in the mornings not knowing which resident would die that day, which risks they would have to take. Though the home provided ample masks and gowns, the work made social distancing impossible. At night, they watched news reports calling New York’s nursing homes the deadliest places in America.

“People were very afraid,” Ms. Engelman said. “But nursing is a calling. When someone was urging me, ‘Leave there, now’ — how do I not do this? These are my people. I can’t leave them. Of course I’m going to do this.

“Every day I’d come to work and find another one is gone. It was very heartbreaking. I still think of my patient Lisa, who was in her 60s. I’d go to her unit every day to watch her die.”



Shawn McArthur, a certified nursing assistant, was about to take a vacation to Japan when the pandemic hit. Instead of traveling, he stayed home and considered not returning to Clove Lakes.

“I saw my closest co-workers infected by the virus, and we were losing people,” he said. “Friends told me that emergency rooms were packed, and there were no ventilators, so don’t go to the hospital if you get sick.” He put off treatment for a bad toothache because he was afraid to go to the dentist.

He was living with his girlfriend, a swim coach who writes comic books, as he does. He wrote a personal letter and left it in one of his books, “just in case anything happens to me,” he said. “I tried to keep it inside, but it was very scary.”

When the state closed down swimming pools, his job at Clove Lakes became the couple’s only source of income. Staying home was no longer an option.

“When I came back, the supervisors and directors were staying in the home all night, and asking anyone to take extra shifts. Usually I don’t do that, but I volunteered because I knew that was going to happen anyway.” At home, he feared carrying the virus to his girlfriend’s mother and aunt, who lived in the same house, so he would strip his clothes and put them in the washer every time he returned.

At Clove Lakes, the virus shut down all of their ordinary activities, changing the relationships between the workers and the residents. The administration worked to get masks, gowns and other protective equipment, which many homes lacked. “We were wearing hazmat suits,” Mr. McArthur said, adding that it felt like being in a sauna. “I lost a lot of pounds. So I didn’t catch the quarantine weight like everybody else did.”

The emotional stress was unrelenting, he said. Once employees reported to the Covid unit, they could not leave or see other colleagues until the day’s end. Residents, especially those with dementia, often did not understand why their relatives were not visiting, why they could not leave their rooms and be with their neighbors for meals or activities.

“The worst was when you had to tell them they had to go back in their room, because the resident in the next room passed away, and you have to put them in a body bag,” Mr. McArthur said.

“One day you’ll see an ambulette come in and haul someone out and they’ll never come back,” Mr. McArthur said. “It is the worst experience to have.” Each death took a toll on the staff, but there was no time to grieve, he said. “You develop chemistry with someone, and it’s like they’re part of the family or a close friend. And we are all they have sometimes, especially after they stopped having visitors.”

The home did not provide counselors to help the staff deal with stress, but directed them to a hotline set up by the state office of mental health, Ms. Senk, the administrator, said.

Ingrid Wiesel, a physical therapist at the home, was surprised when she was assigned to work in a Covid unit. At 64, she said, she was at greater risk than some of her younger colleagues who declined the assignment.

But when the home moved her back into the general population after five weeks, because there were no longer enough patients in quarantine, she felt let down.

“I missed the intensity of it,” she said. “The work was very hard emotionally, because you wanted to give to the patients. Sometimes you didn’t know if they recognized you, because we all looked the same with all the PPE. But when it was over and they took me off that floor, it was sad. I had gotten used to the intimacy.”



As the nursing home scrambled to control the virus, a second crisis was building. Hospitals were no longer performing elective surgeries, so they were not sending patients to the home for short-term rehabilitation, which is the financial lifeblood of all nursing homes. Facilities lose money on long-term care residents, whose stays are typically paid for by Medicaid, and make it up on short-term rehab patients, whose care is subsidized more generously by Medicare.

As revenue dropped, the cost of masks and other protective equipment “started to soar,” Ms. Senk said. “Things were triple and quadruple in price. A box of gloves went from $2 to $30. A gown that was 50 cents went to $8.50, and $14 from one vendor. Our director of nursing would meet vendors out on the street to feel the quality of what they were selling. It was almost like they were selling them out of the trunk of their cars. It was scary. But we did what we had to do.”

Since the spring, the home has spent more than $500,000 to test every resident and employee once a week, Ms. Senk said.

Ms. Bass was at Clove Lakes in April when the hospital called to say that her husband had died. She ran out of the home, followed by two co-workers. This was a blow for all of them. They had worked so close to death among the people they cared for. Now death had come for one of them as well.

“We were absolutely hysterical,” Ms. Engelman said. “I started crying, almost screaming. It became real. Somebody you know died. Now you have to put on that Martian gear and go back in and face it. I entered the unit not recognizing anybody.

“I went home and called a friend, crying,” she said.

Afterward, Ms. Bass got the facility to change her job status from longtime temporary worker to a permanent staff position. The job has kept her from falling apart, she said. But this, too, caused some tension. As the number of residents continued to drop, Ms. Bass’s appointment might mean someone else would have to go.

“Nice of them to do that,” Ms. Wiesel said of Ms. Bass’s hiring. “But who do they choose to let go?”

As the summer wore on, the infection rate plummeted, but few new patients moved into Clove Lakes. The home cut down on overtime and stopped filling positions when employees left. Some workers were asked to skip shifts.

Mr. McArthur, who had volunteered for extra shifts during the worst of the outbreak, agreed to take time off, even though, with his girlfriend not working, he needed the money. The spring had left him shaken.

“Because the job gets to you,” he said. He questioned whether he wanted to even be a nursing assistant. “I realized, no, this will be it. I’ve taken all I can take, and I’ve given enough, and it hurts every time. I continue to work and punch in, but I know these are my final days there.”

For the home, federal stimulus money helped address its increased costs, but the funding was distributed among the nation’s nursing homes according to their size, not recognizing that some — like those in New York City — were hit harder by the virus, said Mark Parkinson, president of the American Health Care Association and National Center for Assisted Living, a trade organization. His group called for a second round of stimulus to offset the decreased revenues. “If that happens, we can get into the spring,” he said. “If not, a lot of these facilities won’t survive.”

As the number of residents at Clove Lakes continued the drop this fall, rumors circulated among the staff: that the home would cut all workers who contracted through agencies — or, conversely, that it would require all staff to work only through the agencies. The home felt safer, medically. But morale dimmed without parties in the lunchroom, and always there were worries about what job cuts were coming, said Mariam Mettias, a certified occupational therapist assistant.



“I’m just going with the flow at this point, trying to save more,” Ms. Mettias said. “I’m cutting back on food, not going out. I had to use box color on my hair. I messed up the bathroom because the box color stained. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Ms. Wiesel said she did not know which scared her more, the virus or the job insecurity. With so many cutbacks throughout the industry, if Clove Lakes lets her go, she does not know where she will find another job.

“You don’t know the unknown,” she said. “The administration is going to say one day, ‘These people have got to go.’ That’s why I don’t complain, I just work. I’ve been a therapist for 42 years. I’m still dedicated. I’m not burned out. I don’t have the energy I used to have.”

The way out of the crisis is not clear. Neither Ms. Senk nor Mr. Parkinson, of the trade association, suggested structural changes, instead placing their hopes on a vaccine to bring people back to nursing homes. But older people’s immune systems do not always produce the antibodies that make vaccines effective.

In the meantime, this month Clove Lakes passed its second week without a positive test, which meant it could allow family visitors inside for the first time since March — if they made an appointment, and if they had negative test results within the past week. The first day there were two visitors, including one who said she planned to sue the home over a financial dispute.

Within a week, an employee tested positive, which ended visitation for at least another two weeks. The next day a resident tested positive. In a half-empty nursing home, she now has a whole floor to herself.

 
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Sunday, April 26, 2020

The Crisis Raging Inside America’s Nursing Homes

By Eleanor Laise

Illustration by Hanna Barczyk
For several days in April, Susan Cady didn’t know where her mother was. A resident at Hornell Gardens Nursing & Rehabilitation, a nursing home in Hornell, N.Y., her mother had recently tested negative for Covid-19, Cady says. So when Cady saw a news report saying that the facility, the site of a cluster of Covid infections, planned to transfer its Covid-negative residents to another facility about 70 miles away, she assumed that her mother might be among them.

She called her 89-year-old father, who hadn’t heard anything about the move, and the facility, which wouldn’t give her any information, she says. A few days later, she called her father again, and he was in tears: He had just learned from the facility, she says, that her mother had subsequently tested positive for Covid and remained at Hornell Gardens. “It’s heartbreaking,” says Cady, 57. Her mother, who suffers from Alzheimer’s disease, “doesn’t know who I am,” she says. “But she’s still my mom.”

Hornell Gardens and Hurlbut Care Communities, which operates the facility, didn’t respond to requests for comment. In a statement on Hurlbut’s website, CEO Bob Hurlbut said the company is regularly updating residents and families by phone and in writing, “in order to ensure transparency in affected facilities.”

The coronavirus has caused long-term-care facilities serving older and disabled people, who are among the most vulnerable to the pandemic, to draw the curtains. Following regulators’ guidance, family members, volunteers, and long-term-care ombudsmen—whose job it is to advocate for residents’ rights and help them resolve complaints—have generally been barred from facilities since mid-March. Visits from state surveyors, who check that nursing homes are complying with federal regulations, have been curtailed. Regulators have also waived a host of nursing-home rules, including, under certain circumstances, the requirement that facilities give residents and family members advance notice before transferring residents from one facility to another.

“What’s going on behind closed doors? We have no clue,” says Brian Lee, executive director of resident advocacy group Families for Better Care. More than 10,000 long-term care facility deaths have been linked to the coronavirus, according to an analysis by The Wall Street Journal.

Over two million people live in roughly 45,000 nursing homes and assisted-living or other residential-care communities, which employ over 1.2 million nursing and social workers , according to a 2019 report based on 2016 data from the National Center for Health Statistics. Private equity and other forms of for-profit ownership dominate the industry, and most facilities are chain-affiliated. Oversight varies among facility types: Nursing homes participating in Medicare and Medicaid must comply with a raft of federal rules, while assisted-living facilities are largely regulated by states. But in all types of facilities, advocates say, family members, volunteers, and other outside visitors play a critical role in spotting problems and ensuring residents’ well-being.

While many in the industry “are doing an incredible job,” the rule waivers, diminished inspections, reduced oversight, and chronic understaffing in long-term care facilities may be a toxic combination, says Toby Edelman, senior policy attorney at the Center for Medicare Advocacy. “There’s a lot of neglect in nursing homes in the best of times,” she says, “and these are not the best of times.”

The American Health Care Association/National Center for Assisted Living, an industry group, disagrees. “This type of criticism is a disservice to the brave heroes of this fight, who leave their families every day to care for others,” AHCA/NCAL said in a statement. Such concerns “don’t recognize the gravity of the situation that this virus is having on our population and only further distracts from the more important issue” of inadequate protective gear, testing, and staffing, the group said. Facilities recognize that communication is key, it said, and “families need to work together and with facilities to identify a single point of contact who can be responsible for information dissemination within families.”

For many families and resident advocates, fears about residents’ basic welfare and safety weigh just as heavily as the coronavirus. One in five high-risk emergency-room visits by nursing-home residents result from potential abuse or neglect, according to a 2019 report based on 2016 data by the Department of Health and Human Services inspector general. Nursing homes failed to report many of these incidents to survey agencies as required by federal rules, the inspector general found.

Angela Chavous, a representative with the Georgia long-term care ombudsman program, found herself peeking through the windows of a Richmond County, Ga., board and care home in early April. At the start of the month, she had received a disturbing report from a local hospital that had admitted a resident of the facility. The resident, an older woman, had lost significant weight, Chavous says, and the hospital suspected neglect. Chavous had previously had concerns about the facility, including the adequacy of the meals, cleanliness, and the quality of patient care. Given the Covid-19 restrictions, she couldn’t visit, and when she called the facility, the number was disconnected, she says. So after consulting with the state ombudsman, she went and knocked on the door.

The awkward scene that followed underscores resident advocates’ concerns about the Covid-induced separation between long-term care facilities and the outside world. Chavous talked with the residents, some of whom have dementia or physical disabilities, out on the front porch while maintaining her distance, she says. They didn’t raise any serious complaints, which is “not surprising,” she says, in part because a staff member hovered nearby. Chavous peered through the windows, but she could not see residents’ bedrooms or bathrooms. She did however, note a strong odor of urine wafting through the door, she says.

Chavous reminded residents they could call her and discussed her concerns with the facility’s owner, and she plans to check up on the facility at least every two weeks. But she’s very concerned that serious issues may be overlooked while ombudsmen are barred from facilities. The residents, she says, “need us now more than ever.”

Regulators are tackling at least one key aspect of nursing-home transparency: the reporting of Covid-19 outbreaks. On April 19, seven weeks after the world learned of the nursing-home Covid outbreak at a Seattle-area facility, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, or CMS, said it would require nursing homes to inform residents and their families of Covid cases in the facilities and report those cases directly to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. CMS plans to make the data publicly available.

The fact that many long-term care residents can’t speak for themselves leaves advocates and family members uneasy with some of the recent nursing-home rule waivers. CMS, for example, has said that facilities don’t need to provide advance notification before transferring residents in certain situations, such as when the transfers are made to separate Covid-positive from Covid-negative residents. Some families are discovering that their loved one has been moved only after the fact, says Laurie Facciarossa Brewer, the New Jersey long-term care ombudsman. “People’s rights are being temporarily suspended,” she says.

Suspension of regular nursing-home inspections means that many other serious threats to residents’ welfare may be overlooked, advocates say. In March, CMS said that nursing-home inspections would temporarily focus on just infection control and incidents cited as “immediate jeopardy”—the most severe level of violations. (Even in these cases, inspectors should enter facilities only if they have appropriate personal protective equipment, CMS said.) But the vast majority of nursing-home health-inspection violations are cited at less-severe levels, and many involve serious harm to residents, including broken bones and medication errors, advocates say.

CMS did not respond to requests for comment for this article. In a previous statement to Barron’s, CMS said it “is using every tool at our disposal to keep nursing homes free from infection.” Rule waivers, it said, provide facilities with necessary flexibility and help them prepare for Covid-19. The streamlined inspections, said AHCA/NCAL, help “ensure our caregivers and staff can keep their focus and every resource dedicated to residents during this outbreak.”

In normal times, ombudsman representatives help identify problems before they get too serious by visiting facilities and chatting with residents. In March, Melanie McNeil, the Georgia state long-term care ombudsman who, at the time, was also president of the National Association of State Ombudsman Programs, urged CMS to reinstate ombudsman representatives’ ability to enter nursing homes when necessary to respond to situations that could threaten residents’ health, safety, and rights. It isn’t clear, she wrote in a letter to CMS administrator Seema Verma, that ombudsman representatives “pose any greater risk to residents than do the health-care workers at the facility.” McNeil says she received no response from CMS. Facilities can review ombudsmen’s access on a case-by-case basis, CMS said in its guidance.

That generally leaves ombudsman representatives on the outside looking in, trying to accomplish most of their advocacy work remotely. When they try to reach facility staff and residents by phone, it’s “becoming increasingly difficult to even get through, because the facilities are very stressed,” says Brewer, the New Jersey ombudsman. Although she has 11 full-time advocates and 200 volunteers, Brewer says she had no early warning of the crisis building at the Andover Subacute and Rehabilitation Center, the Andover, N.J., facility where police said there were 17 bodies in mid-April. The facility had 112 cases and 31 confirmed Covid-19 deaths as of April 22, according to the state. Facility owner Chaim Scheinbaum said in a statement that “current staffing is solid” and that no more than 15 bodies were kept in a room with a normal capacity of four.

Such scenarios aren’t the end of ombudsmen’s worries. A 2019 report by the U.S. Government Accountability Office found that incidents of abuse cited by nursing-home inspectors more than doubled from 2013 to 2017. In New Jersey, Brewer has found a nearly 40% increase in long-term care facility abuse and neglect cases from 2015 to 2019, and she’s “extremely concerned” that such incidents will be overlooked while facilities are on lockdown.

As the crisis grinds on, some families are being denied the window visits that provide the only possible face-to-face interaction with their loved ones. Bayside of Poquoson Health and Rehab in Poquoson, Va., recently halted window visits to “eliminate potential for disease spread by individuals congregating and also given the fact that there is a Stay-at-Home Order in effect in the state of Virginia,” the facility said in a statement. Bayside said it is connecting residents and families by phone, email, text, and video chat.

That’s not much help to the family member of a Bayside resident who was recently denied permission for a window visit. The resident “gets so confused by Zoom or FaceTime” and has trouble hearing phone calls, the family member says, adding that for many older people, electronic communication “is not the same as seeing a face through the window.”  

Full Article & Source:
The Crisis Raging Inside America’s Nursing Homes