Canterbury Tower Health Center

My mother spent her last four years in the tower, in independent living. She had an unexpected and rapid decline which led to my seeking her admittance to the health center on a Saturday. After several attempts to get information, I was left hanging with no one telling me whether any beds were available that day or whether anyone could be admitted on a Saturday. I turned to hospice, which responded immediately. When hospice tried to bring a hospital bed into my mother’s apartment, however, the manager of Canterbury, Caridad Vinas, refused to allow it for reasons ranging from regular electrical blackouts to loss of licenses. I finally had to sign a piece of paper taking full responsibility for the bed. Ms. Vinas vowed to have my mother moved to the health center first thing Monday morning. When my mother died at 3:00 a.m. on Monday, I sent a message to Ms. Vinas letting her know that my mother had died and that hospice would be removing the bed. I never heard a word of condolence or anything else from her.
During my mother’s four years in the tower, she loved her apartment and loved her view, but we both found the management quirky. The facilities were full of potential hazards for the senior citizen population — pot holes in the parking lot, slippery surfaces on the sidewalks, salty, fatty, and sugary food, no trainer in the fitness room, only intermittent classes on balance and strength training, and more. Scheduled outings left senior citizens at concert venues 45 minutes before the doors opened. My 89-​year-​old mother was once left at a concert venue late at night because she hadn’t signed up for the bus. Information on construction projects, changes in routines, and more was impossible to come by. The monthly newsletter is printed in colors and fonts that are difficult for elderly eyes.
My mother’s one stint in the health center horrified her for many reasons, the biggest one being that the patients who needed assistance eating weren’t given any and instead were left hungry.

My father in law lived here for four months before he passed away.
He was 84 and had some dementia, anxiety, and advanced emphasima –which eventually took him.
He suffered servere anxiety attacks, had outbursts of fear and terror and was often inconsolable. Because of this, management demanded that the family hire an outside agency to sit with him at night (at extra cost) because that service isn’t covered under their already exhorbitant fees. We did.
But, rather than show compassion or pledge to help make this mans last days more comfortable, he was deemed a nusance.
Joyce Mitchel, the resident «advocate» requested that the family make plans to relocate him, adding enormous stress to all involved. At this point he was evaluated and determined to be in need of hospice, — he passed within days.
This facility claims that they supply caring and dignity to those in their most difficult days of life, but there are those at Canterbury who in my opinion, very much lack compassion, shirk responsibility and lust for their own convenience.
We are disgusted.