The hidden, heartfelt community
Let me take you inside Darnlee, a place of residential care. Don’t allow any preconceived ideas about nursing homes to occupy your mind before you read on.
I lived a street away for four years and didn’t know this place existed. I had to point it out to friends who have lived in the suburb their whole lives. That’s because this place is so good at fulfilling its purpose. No, it’s not something that needs be concealed, as if it were a dirty secret – quite the opposite. People should know about it.
It is Darnlee’s ability to mimic certain aspects of normality that makes it special. Darnlee is home to 39 elderly residents, but the ornate building blends in among the elaborate homes of Lansell Rd, Toorak. The interior is more inviting and homely than the street view. You can get well into the building before determining that it is, in fact, a ‘nursing home’.
Colourful patterned carpet sweeps across the wide corridor. Brightly coloured curtains and furnishings embellish the large hallways and sitting rooms. Vases of flowers, artworks, and aquariums filled with colourful fish cover the walls. Each bedroom is not just unique in the way it has been constructed, but is characterised by the furnishings of the resident’s previous home.
There is nothing clinical about the environment – the only grey linoleum you’ll find here might be in the cooks’ kitchen, but there’s no need to go there. It feels like a large household, or a quaint hotel. Darnlee was actually built as a private residence, and the renovations to this heritage building have definitely sought to retain its original charm.
Just like the surroundings, life at Darnlee could not be considered dull. Activities are scheduled throughout each day and you are certainly encouraged to participate. Of course, you are welcome to decline and continue to watch your documentary, but you are made to feel more than wanted at the group activity.
Memory lane, gardening, group walks, church services, art and craft, book club, cooking group; there’s no shortage of things to do. Do any of those take your fancy? Perhaps you’d rather stop in to the on-site hairdresser to have your hair or nails done, or venture beyond the beautiful grounds for a drive to the beach or a lunch outing.
Yet what resounds most with the elderly residents are children and animals – their visits are the most appreciated activities. “It brings a bit of normalcy, and they really enjoy it,” explains Activity Officer, Tina.
A black poodle gallops through the hallways. Moses (yes, just like the dog in the film Meet the Fockers) is well known by the staff. He is one of the pets who regularly visit.
Two nearby secondary schools, St Kevin’s College and St Catherine’s School, also routinely send students to spend time in Darnlee. The St Kevin’s boys’ Wednesday quiz is an anticipated weekly event. Despite various memory difficulties, the players are empowered, finding that they can answer questions about politics, current affairs and historical events. The boys speak to everyone by name, and are encouraging without being condescending.
Some boys play instruments. They ask people what music they like and investigate what music could ring a bell from their past, doing their best to perform something similar. The students care about these people.
“They seemed to really enjoy spending time with us,” reflected St Catherine’s Year 11 student, Mackenzie Leyden.
“Visiting Darnlee, I felt as though I was actually making a difference to someone's day.”
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Fridays at 11am is exercise time. Isla* is very excited as she is taken to the common room. “I like to keep fit!” she exclaims in the lift with a big smile.
In their beds, wheelchairs and armchairs the participants are arranged in a circle. Activity Officer Jennifer produces a huge red balloon. She floats it around the circle and the residents do their best to push or throw it back to her. Each time she rewards them with encouragement and a warm smile. Next is a heavier balloon, they have to try to throw it through the metallic hula-hoop. The more lively residents cheer others on.
Nearby, Mabel* throws her blanket off; a pained look occupies her face. A carer rushes to her. She takes the blanket and comforts Mabel. “You don’t worry about it, I’ll put it in your room.” Worry is taken away here.
Next are arm and leg exercises. Everyone does their best to march their feet on the ground, then to wiggle their toes while keeping their feet still. The roar of an orchestra interrupts Jennifer’s instructions. Across the room some people are watching a DVD of a musical concert. Dancers flitter across the screen.
Invigorated by the music, exercise-class enthusiasts Sally* and David* start singing. Isla joins in. A lady who has been almost unresponsive before now lifts her arms and waves them like a conductor. Jennifer makes this the new exercise. Ethel* can’t do the motion, but she giggles at the unusual spectacle. We all start to laugh. There’s something almost magical about it; you can’t avoid smiling.
Soon it’s time to prepare everyone for lunch. The residents who choose to leave their rooms are seated in what feels like a restaurant. Tablecloths topped with flower centrepieces line each table. Just having lunch is an event.
“Come on, David, I’ve reserved table one just for you!” a staff member jokes as she sits him down - they both chuckle.
Two o’clock is flower arranging. Everyone gathered around the table assembles their own bouquet to decorate their home – because there aren’t enough flowers around already. Flowers are Priscilla’s passion, and so she appears to live in a florist. In light of her enthusiasm and floral knowledge, the number and varieties of flowers available have been increased.
Flower arranging rolls into Happy Hour. Champagne and prawns are on offer. “I love prawns,” says Priscilla animatedly. She doesn’t say or eat much these days, but excitement for the seafood gives her the determination to chew on them.
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In between activities the staff move between the residents, chatting to them and tending to their needs. Their upbeat tones and cheerful smiles warm the environment. People’s deterioration is heartbreaking, but the staff do their best to counteract this emotion.
I say this with confidence, because I am resident Priscilla’s granddaughter.
Her daughter, Cilla Seyfort, visited multiple times a week, and was constantly impressed by the care Priscilla received.
“Each [staff member] in their own way struck up some sort of relationship with Mum as a person - which wasn’t easy given that she was often confused, and sometimes abrupt and disagreeable.”
Even in challenging and emotionally testing moments, the staff’s enthusiasm and cheer did not seem to waver.
They take the time to know each person individually, to take interest in every life. Tina and other staff printed information about the area where Priscilla lived all of her life and about the breeds of cattle she had bred, to enable engagement with her, even when she was at her lowest ebb.
“It was so heart warming to see,” says daughter, Cilla. “To see Mum removed from her life, was in some ways more difficult than her death.”
“Your Granny would always talk about different kinds of cattle and I wanted her to show me what she was talking about,” Tina explained. She seems surprised that this impresses – it’s the normal level of care and involvement.
Having spent her entire life on a farm, my family was more determined than the average person that our elder would not end up in a nursing home. Priscilla’s home was part of her. It was the centre of our huge family. But it got to the heart-breaking point where not even the live-in carers could manage her condition. She needed residential care, and we wouldn’t let her go anywhere but Darnlee.
“Darnlee provided a very warm and comfortable environment for us all, and which for 17 months we made our own. It became a hub for a constant stream of our large extended family,” comments Cilla.
“I think we gave Mum as good an end as we possibly could in all the circumstances.”
…
Yes, life in Darnlee’s mansion is accompanied by a hefty price tag. However, it’s much more the spirit and attitude of this place that makes it feel like home – more than home.
Every bed is always made and the people are only ever alone by choice. Darnlee seeks to make the last chapter as happy and as blissful as possible. It doesn’t seem like a waiting room, but a heartfelt community.
When you’re waved goodbye by the staff, you head back into the street, and back into what feels like the ‘real world’. Your heart still hurts for the deteriorating condition of the residents, but it’s comforted by knowing that they are being taken care of in the best way possible.
*Names of residents have been changed to retain their privacy.
