Reflections on STEADI

The following is a note to me (Tom Marks) from Bob Weirauch, our Contributing Editor and Poet-in-Residence, as he lay in the hospital in Arizona...

The other night, when I was in the ER, a nice young woman from administration came in and asked if I was okay with her asking some questions. I was waiting for the results of my CT scan so she retrieved my insurance data and then launched into what the CDC calls the STEADI questions Stopping Elderly Accidents, Death and Injuries). These are a series of questions designed to determine if your home is safe for Seniors. 

The whole exchange was comical. I’m laying there a victim of a slip and fall. My hearing aids are in a box with my glasses. My head is aching and she’s running drills on me about home safety. So, what did I do about it?  I wrote this poem….

Hospital

I remember the day I heard them say, “Did you ask him the “Steadi?” I don’t hear that well, and although I couldn’t tell, I was sure they asked me about indigestion. 

My guts are just fine, and so is my my mind unless my ears are part of it, I can see just great and I’m fine with my weight, but I know it’s not that great. 

No! shouted the nurse (her lips starting to purse) these are questions about your home safety. Then she said, “By the way” (as we got under way) “have you had any spills lately?” 

I was starting to freak out, so I started to shout “I told you before if you’d bother to listen, that when I got up for the day, I took all of my daily prescriptions. 

Her face wrinkled up from her chin to her brow and she spit out this sentence in a growl. I didn’t say pills! I’m talking about spills! Like slipping and falling you moron. 

My head hanging low as she delivered this blow I was wondering what’s coming next, then she whipped out a form that was longer than norm and rather loudly started reading the text. 

Does your house have a stairway, a stoop or a step? I was wondering where this was going. But after the last go around I proceeded with caution, shook my head and just muttered yep. 

She made a check mark, it was like igniting a spark, and the endless questions continued. Are they cluttered with shoes? Is the light bulb burned-out and is the handrail wobbly and loose? 

Are the steps cracked or uneven? Do you bump your head on the ceiling? Is the carpet old or and worn or, is it ragged, shredded, wrinkled and torn? 

Do you have rugs in the aisles? Are there books and junk in big piles? I wanted to scream, I was racking my brain and my patience was reaching maximum strain. 

And then came questions about my bedroom and bath, is there a clear and uncluttered path? Then she asked about the cupboards and the size of my ladder. Oh Lord, why does this matter? 

So, what is a Steadi test, and why does it matter, and what about these questions she’s amassed? Thinking of my answers I had a horrible thought. What happens if I don’t pass?

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