I recently had my own personal experience with helping my Mother through a health crisis.  My Mother lives in a small community in central Nebraska and I got a message at my office that my Mother had suffered a heart attack and was being transferred to Good Samaritan Hospital in Kearney.  Even though I am in the senior housing business I was not prepared to take the personal journey. After successful open heart surgery, my family needed to make a decision regarding where my Mother would go for her cardiac rehabilitation.  Since I live in Omaha and I also have a sister residing in Omaha we felt it was best to have my Mother come to Omaha for the rehab.  My brothers live in the same community as my Mother but they are both employed in agricultural related companies and we were concerned about their availability to be with my Mother during her rehab.  So, my sister and I drove the three hours to Kearney and buckled up my Mother in our car and drove to Omaha.  Mind you, we are travelling the interstate with an 82 year old woman, who has just had heart bypass surgery.  The trip was a bit scary but my Mother was a trooper.  We arrived at the rehab facility and my Mother was admitted for her two – three week stay.  Even though I have knowledge and experience in senior care I was not ready for how sad I was to see my Mother in a wheelchair in a small room with a roommate she did not know, with an aide who approached her wanting to know if she was hungry and did she want to go to the dining room.  The dining room was filled with mostly skilled nursing residents.  My Mother looked around the room and asked me “Why did you bring me here?  I don’t know anyone who lives here and I don’t know how often you will come visit me and I’m in a place where they call supper – dinner time.”  My sister and I found it interesting that everyone in Kearney referred to meal times as dinner and supper instead of the “big city” term of lunch and dinner and my Mother found comfort in that language.  My Mother’s spirits were very low as she tried to blend into the Omaha rehab facility so we made the decision to once again buckle Mom up in the car and head to our small town hospital. I am happy to report that my Mother is in much better spirits as she recovers in a community that calls lunch - dinner and dinner- supper.  I have a new realization that my decision should have been based on my Mother’s personal preferences and not solely on the fact that Mom would be closer to my sister and me.