"We build a circle of care around the diverse elders of the East Side, keeping them safe and healthy in their homes."

This is the mission statement  of the non-profit where I am the director.  Don't be impressed by the title -- I direct myself and one other paid staff.  The rest of the worker bees are volunteers, and they're essential to our ability to provide a range of services to elders on the East Side of of St Paul.

Many of the volunteers live in the neighborhood that is our service area.  This  fits  the concept that the planners had in mind when they came up with the idea of programs like ours nearly 30 years ago. The Living-At-Home/Block Nurse program model got its start because neighbors had the idea of helping neighbors.  A group of women  having coffee wondered what they might do so their neighbors who were getting older could stay in their homes and not have to move into nursing homes.  Most older people want to remain  in their houses and neighborhoods,  and since it's much less costly than nursing homes, it saves tax dollars. 

As a non-profit we rely on grants and with grants comes reporting. We have to show that we're "accountable" and prove "measurable outcomes" and send in reports by certain deadlines.  I'm reminded of what my sister, a hospital nurse, once said -- "I can either do great patient care during my shift or I can do all the paperwork they want with the i's dotted and t's crossed, but I can't do both."  The paperwork seems excessive sometimes, especially at the end of a quarter when I spend hours making sure data is entered and reports are sent.  I'd rather be spending time with the elders or planning events that benefit them more directly.

Sometimes a crisis happens and we need to interrupt our reporting  or skip a meeting to help persons in need of our services, as happened last Tuesday.  When I got to work there was a message on the voicemail from Ed, a long-time client,  that he had left at 6:05 AM.  

"This is Ed _____.   My house is stone cold. I can't find the manual to the furnace, and I don't know what to do. The only place I can be warm enough is in bed under the covers. I'm desperate and I don't know what to do. Please have Bonnie call me."

Ed is an 86-year- old widower who lives alone in a house not far from our office.  He has a history of heart problems and has some memory loss and sometimes gets  confused. His two sons live in other states.  In the past year Ed had to give up  driving so our staff and volunteers take him to doctor appointments and help him with shopping.   

Bonnie, a retired Public Health Nurse who volunteers with our program, visits Ed once a week to set up his medications and check his blood pressure.  I called her, and told her about the message, and asked her if the house had been cold the day before when she was there. She said it wasn't bad,  but a little drafty, and she had talked to Ed about wearing long underwear during spells like the frigid blast that we're experiencing in Minnesota.  Bonnie also confirmed that Ed's housekeeper, Patricia, (who our program recruited for him) would be there that day, since Tuesdays and Fridays are the days Patricia helps him with chores and cooking. 

The next call was from Patricia. She reported that Ed's house was very cold, and that he seemed disoriented, and where she could usually get him to talk to her and come around to making sense, he wasn't.  She wanted to know if she should call 911.  I said that if there wasn't an immediate crisis, she should wait until I  called Bonnie back, which I did.

Bonnie lives two blocks from Ed and was there in minutes.  She discovered that Ed had turned his furnace off the night before, because he was concerned about "the cost of his heat bill, and not having enough to pay for it."  (Ed has sufficient funds to pay his bills.)  Bonnie turned the furnace on, took Ed's vital signs, and persuaded him to eat breakfast take his morning pills.  Pretty soon he was starting to be oriented and he even acknowledged that turning the furnace off was a "bad choice" for him to have made.  Bonnie  reinforced that he shouldn't do this again, and especially not during cold snaps like the one we've been having since the day after Christmas.  

Bonnie called  to let me know that Ed  was going to be fine.  I went back to reporting how many visits we made, rides we gave, and caregivers we talked to in the previous three months. But it occurred to me that what I'd really like to show is what DOESN'T happen because of what we do.  How many people DON'T suffer strokes or heart attacks because Bonnie makes the suggestion that they talk to their doctor about their blood pressure after seeing them at the monthly blood pressure clinics?  How many adult children DON'T have to take a half day off work to take their parent or aunt to a doctor appointment because our volunteers are available?  How many trips to the ER are avoided because someone is available to check, assess and resassure someone in a situation like this one?   It's  hard to document what DOESN'T happen -- but it was pretty easy to imagine what might have happened if we hadn't been there for Ed. 

" 86-year-old man found frozen to death. " Because we were there, this wasn't a news story on Wednesday.  And he didn't have to make an unnecessary trip to the ER or deal with frozen pipes breaking, either.

We did our job. It doesn't make headlines, but it's good news all the same.