Sisters and Roommates: A Long-Term Care Ombudsman Story

Still Sisters, Still Together

The memory care unit had only twelve residents.

Small enough to feel more like a house than a facility.

Quiet. Personal.

I was talking with one of the women who lived there. She was bright, warm, and fully present. She told me about growing up with five brothers and sisters. About her parents and the countries they had lived in—Pakistan, Thailand, Australia, and India.

Her long-term memory was remarkable. Her words came easily.

A few minutes later, an aide wheeled another resident into the room.

The woman appeared to have had a stroke. One side of her face drooped. She made soft sounds, but I couldn’t tell if she could speak.

I leaned forward.

“Hi, I’m Carol. What’s your name?”

She looked at me.

“Can you speak?” I asked, watching for any response.

Before she could answer, the woman beside me said,

“She can’t. Her name is Jennie. She’s my sister.”

I turned back to her.

“Are you roommates?”

She smiled.

“Yes. We are.”

They had been sharing a room for almost a year.

Sisters.

Roommates.

Together in memory care.

They were four years apart in age, she told me—just like my sister and me. They liked being together. They watched out for each other.

In a place where everyone else lived among strangers, these two had each other.

Someone they knew.Someone they had shared a life with.

I asked how her sister communicated.

“We had deaf neighbors growing up,” she said. “So we learned a little sign language. And she has a communication board. She spells things out.”

She showed me.

While we were talking, Jennie began pointing to letters on the board.

Slowly.

One at a time.

It took several minutes. No one rushed her.

It felt a little like solving a Wheel of Fortune puzzle, and near the end, we all began calling out the letters:

T-H-A-N-K Y-O-U.

Before she even reached the O.

That was all she wanted to say.

Thank you.

Here was a woman who had lost her speech, her mobility, her independence—who needed minutes to form two words—and she used that effort to say thank you.

Beside her sat the sister who understood her language.

In that small twelve-bed memory care unit, two sisters were finishing their lives the way they had begun:

Sharing a room.Looking out for each other.

Confidentiality Statement:

To protect resident privacy, identifying details in this story have been changed. The situations described reflect real issues encountered in long-term care.