>
> http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5443317
>
> Your Health
> Home for Seniors Trades Privacy for Security
> by Joseph Shapiro
>
>
> Morning Edition, June 1, 2006 · Last winter, Lydia Lundberg and her  
> husband, Bill Reed, flew from the assisted-living facility they own  
> in Oregon and came to Washington, D.C. for the White House  
> Conference on Aging.
>
> In a busy exhibition hall, they opened up their oversized laptop  
> computer and showed off the technology they had been working on for  
> the past five years. It allows them to track the several dozen  
> residents who live at Oatfield Estates.
>
> Residents wear badges that signal to the dozens of infrared and  
> radio-frequency sensors inside the facility and outside on the  
> grounds. That allows Lundberg and Reed -- and others -- to track  
> residents at the facility 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
>
> In the exhibit hall at the White House conference, Lundberg pulled  
> up the tracking information on a resident named Ray Croft. With her  
> computer, three time zones away and on the opposite side of the  
> country, Lundberg was able to check on Croft’s location and his  
> activity -- at that exact moment.
>
> "I can go to a live view," Lundberg said, "and it shows that he's  
> in bed."
>
> The computer doesn’t show live pictures of Croft; the facility does  
> not use video cameras. But a device hooked to Croft's bed sends  
> data readings to the computer.
>
> "The icon shows he's snoozing away, and he has been in his room for  
> 12 hours," Lundberg reported.
>
> A graph popped up on Lundberg's laptop, with a blue line going up  
> and down.
>
> "Basically this is his breath, what you're looking at," said  
> Lundberg. The graph fluctuates with each breath Croft takes, so  
> Lundberg could even tell when he was breathing out and when he was  
> breathing in.
>
> Oatfield Estates
>
> On a recent morning in Milwaukie, Ore., a suburb of Portland,  
> Lundberg visits Croft at Rainier House, the group house where he  
> lives. Croft zips outside in the motorized wheelchair he has used  
> since his left leg was amputated after complications from diabetes.
>
> As Croft fires up his pipe, a worried look crosses Lundberg's face.
>
> "Where's your badge?" she asks. "They forgot to put it on you today?"
>
> "Yes, they did," Croft says. "And that's a big no-no."
>
> Croft isn’t wearing something that's almost always clipped to his  
> shirt: a black badge. It's the small, triangular pendant that  
> communicates with the sensors so that the monitoring system can  
> record where he is and where he's been. It even notes when he's  
> eating, when he's in the bathroom, even who he is hanging out with.
>
> On a chilly morning, Croft is wearing just his white T-shirt.
>
> Within moments, aide Ruth Yaws bounds down the stairs, holding  
> Croft's long-sleeve shirt and his badge.
>
> "What're you doing out here without your shirt on?" Yaws gently  
> scolds Croft.
>
> He says he wanted to go out to smoke but didn't want to bother the  
> aides who were finishing with serving breakfast.
>
> The young aide carefully helps Croft put on the heavier shirt and  
> attaches the badge.
>
> Some might think all this monitoring is a little creepy, so it's  
> worth pointing out that Oatfield Estates is a very nice assisted- 
> living facility.
>
> It's a place where Croft has just eaten his daily breakfast in bed:  
> pancakes the way he likes them. And his group house, on top of a  
> hill, offers a stunning panorama. Off in the distance, there's snow- 
> capped Mount Hood, Mount Adams and Mount St. Helens.
>
> Maybe Oatfield Estates is nice because the owners, Lundberg and  
> Reed, built a place where they would want to live. They call it a  
> "summer camp for old people."
>
> But Lundberg says the thing that really makes this place work is  
> the monitoring technology.
>
> "People don't argue with data. They believe it," she explains.  
> "Because data doesn't have an agenda. Data's not trying to make  
> someone look better or worse."
>
> Lundberg can use the data to tell whether an aide takes too long to  
> respond when a resident pushes a call bell or whether a resident is  
> losing too much weight.
>
> Once an aide was accused of goofing off. But the data showed he was  
> the staffer who spent the most time with residents.
>
> Most of all, co-owner Bill Reed says the data give residents a  
> freedom that they wouldn't have in other long-term care facilities.
>
> "They would probably be in locked facilities," says Reed. "They  
> would be the ones who'd be at the doors trying to get out or  
> escaping."
>
> As Reed says this, he's watching a group of residents plant a  
> garden. About two-thirds of the people living here have some  
> dementia or Alzheimer's. At Oatfield Estates, they live in the same  
> group homes -- on the same floor -- as everyone else. They're free  
> to roam, inside and out.
>
> Reed says because people are monitored at this assisted facility,  
> there's no need to build fences here.
>
> "These are big, strong, fairly full-of-energy people," Reed says.  
> "So they'd try to escape away from the facilities. So you'd build  
> fences for them. Then they'd be hard to contend. So you'd give them  
> drugs to slow down their anxiety or their anger."
>
> Melissa Richmond was hired as the landscaper at this facility. But  
> part of her job -- and the part she enjoys most -- is to get the  
> residents to help her with the gardening. Some were farmers before  
> coming here. Others, like Dorothy Kimmel, had their own gardens.
>
> "Dorothy, do you think it's too early to plant tomatoes?" Richmond  
> asks.
>
> "Well, I can't even think of what month it is," Kimmel replies.
>
> Another resident, an elderly man with a shovel, digs holes in the  
> ground. Then Kimmel -- in a pink sweater -- takes the young plants  
> out of small plastic pots. She pulls the bottom leaves off each  
> plant, as Richmond showed her, then leans down and places each  
> plant in a newly dug hole.
>
> Caregiving from Far Away
>
> A few days later, hundreds of miles away in an office cubicle in  
> Tucson, Ariz., Kimmel's daughter, Marcia Riedel, sits at her  
> computer at the end of her work day.
>
> She types in her user ID and password, and with just a few clicks  
> of her computer, she reads reports about what her mother does each  
> day.
>
> "Planting tomatoes," Riedel reads. "If I can click on 'planting  
> tomatoes,' it gives me more information. It says they started at  
> 3:30 and ended at five o'clock. It was outside in the main garden.  
> And it tells who the employees there were."
>
> It's hard to be a caregiver from far away. Before, when Riedel  
> called her mother on the phone, Kimmel couldn't always remember  
> what she had done that day. Now Riedel phones and checks on the  
> computer a few times a week.
>
> "I can track her weight," Riedel explains. "I can tell how much  
> time she spent in bed. I can tell how restless she was. There's a  
> graph that keeps track of that."
>
> With the collected data, Riedel says she's more involved in her  
> mother's care now.
>
> The owners of Oatfield Estates say that's the point: to use data to  
> bring families closer together.
>
> It doesn't always work that way.
>
> Back at Oatfield Estates, a race is about to start. In the parking  
> lot, Ray Croft and his red motorized scooter is racing against  
> three-year-old Jacob Nickerson and his new red tricycle.
>
> At the agreed upon starting line, Jacob's mother, Kelly Nickerson,  
> gets behind the boy's tricycle to push.
>
> "OK. Grandpa Ray. You ready?" she asks.
>
> "Come on, Mom," says Jacob, ready to go.
>
> "Let's go," shouts Kelly Nickerson as she starts pushing and the  
> race begins. "Go Jake, go! Go Jake, go!"
>
> Jacob laughs and shouts, "I'm going. I'm going. I'm going. I'm going."
>
> Croft lets Jacob win these races. And although it's Jacob who  
> crosses the finish line first, the little boy insists that "Grandpa  
> Ray" won this time.
>
> Nickerson works at Oatfield Estates in the marketing department,  
> while she goes back to school to get her nursing degree. She and  
> her son live in one of the large group homes here. They eat meals  
> with the other residents. Of all the residents here, Croft is the  
> one that Jacob calls "Grandpa."
>
> After the race, Croft says his monitoring badge is a good thing.
>
> "The Big Brother thing doesn't bother me pretty much at all," he  
> says. "No, I think it helps. I mean, an intelligent person, halfway  
> intelligent, is going to appreciate the fact that people can be  
> monitored for their own good. And their own safety."
>
> But Croft has had problems with the monitoring devices, or at least  
> the way one of his daughters used the information. He's a diabetic,  
> and she saw his weight zoom up.
>
> He says his daughter started nagging him.
>
> new graf "She was really just giving me a hard time over her  
> expectations for my diet, for my weight, for my exercise. Just  
> about my whole life here", Croft says.
>
> He got fed up and revoked permission for her to see any data on him.
>
> That fight was a couple of years ago. Croft says he hasn't spoken  
> to his daughter since. He says they'd been estranged before. Still,  
> he misses her. Most of all, he thanks her for finding this place  
> for him.
>
> Croft says he couldn't live anywhere better, and that the  
> information that's gathered on him is -- for the most part -- used  
> to help him.
>
> Produced by NPR's Jane Greenhalgh

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