Closing of personal-care units at Southeastern Veterans Center separates spouses, relatives

Gwen and Joseph Koehler raised a family in King of Prussia, downsized to a condominium near their children, and, when their health failed, moved to the Southeastern Veterans Center outside Spring City.

Now, in their twilight years, they are separating.

But not by choice.

The newly renovated personal-care units where Gwen Koehler lives were suddenly deemed unsafe and will close Nov. 15, forcing her and 66 others to move, most of them to two veterans facilities in Pennsylvania near Altoona and Erie.

Her husband, however, will stay behind in the center's skilled-nursing home, which will remain open while undergoing a $41.2 million expansion.

Gwen Koehler, 61, said she hadn't yet decided where she would go. But wherever she lands, she said, "I won't have access to my husband."

Many of the low-income residents say they don't want to move far from families and friends or break with familiar routines at the home and in the community, from churches and Alcoholics Anonymous groups to summer softball games organized by local volunteers.

Among those being forced out is a man who recently turned 100 and who served in the Army Air Corps in the era of biplanes.

"Everybody's upset. All the guys, they were crying and stuff. They don't want to go," Kathleen Bote, 64, said Wednesday, the day before she was scheduled to ship out to the Hollidaysburg Veterans Home, three to four hours away from her two daughters, a son, a sister, and her father.

Saying goodbye to her 87-year-old father two weeks ago was hard.

"That's probably the last time I see him," said Bote, who had been at Southeastern for almost 10 years and suffers from diabetes, high blood pressure, and mental-health issues.

Gwen Koehler still doesn't know where she'll be living in three weeks. But without a car, she won't be able to visit her husband. Nearly every day, they play bingo, have coffee with a regular group of friends, or watch favorite old TV shows together at the home.

"He looks forward to the visits," said Koehler, who at 61 has had three heart attacks and two bouts of cancer. Her 82-year-old husband had prostate cancer and uses a wheelchair.

Southeastern's acting commandant, Peter Ojeda, said every resident had been offered a bed somewhere else. The residents were told about the closing Oct. 7, and 19 had moved - five to the center's nursing home, eight to Hollidaysburg, five to Erie, and one to a private apartment.

Local placements are being sought for those who don't want to go far away, he said.

A 2006 study by Pennsylvania State University found that the nine modular buildings that make up the personal-care unit, in the shadow of the old Pennhurst State Hospital, would last only until June 2011.

Last summer, an evaluation by the state Department of Military and Veterans Affairs' engineers revealed serious problems with the roofs, a concern with winter coming, said Joan Z. Nissley, a spokeswoman for the department, which runs six veterans homes, generally available to old or disabled veterans and their spouses.

"It was a hard decision for us. We know that there are ramifications to the decision, but, ultimately, our decision comes down to resident safety," she said.

In February 2012, when the new 120-bed nursing-care unit is finished, the displaced residents will have first crack at coming back.

The closing follows the firing of Southeastern's chief administrator in September, less than a week after a 27-page state Health Department report cited the home for serious deficiencies, including failure to investigate and promptly report violence and a case of possible patient abuse.

Nissley said the closing was unrelated to those events. She said Rebecca A. Kesselring had been removed as commandant because "we decided it would be a good time for a change at the home, and not because of any lack of quality of care or disciplinary action toward Rebecca."

All the unit's state employees were given jobs at the nursing home, but four contract workers were laid off.

The closing surprised many residents, who wondered why the state had poured thousands of dollars into renovating bathrooms, carpets, and sidewalks in the modular buildings last year only to shut them down.

"We all feel they knew about this long in advance and they only gave us 30 days, so if we wanted to make other plans, it's next to impossible," said Vince Ferigno, 61, who nonetheless managed to find a bed at a home in Pennsburg, not far from where his daughter lives.

Others are not so lucky.

Richard Bell, 70, a 16-year veteran of Southeastern, worries about moving away from his 76-year-old brother, who lives in Philadelphia.

"How can I get back from Hollidaysburg if something happens to him? They're separating families," Bell said.

He also has to leave behind his television and other belongings, because he'll be going from a private room to one with two or three other men.

Chad Ewing, 56, is moving to the Pennsylvania Soldiers and Sailors Home in Erie, where "they measure snowfall in feet, not inches," he deadpanned.

After 19 years at Southeastern, he'll be sorry to leave his friends at a local 12-step meeting and at his church, as well as his two sisters and brother in the area, Ewing said.

He'll spend holidays with his housemates instead of his relatives.

"It's going to be a little different," he said with resignation.

Even staffers were surprised by the closing announcement, said resident Michael Bauman, 59, who thinks the decision was based on economics, saying the Hollidaysburg and Erie homes had empty beds that needed to be filled.

The recent renovations, he said, "were a total waste of taxpayer dollars." The roofs are "in good shape. They're using that as an excuse. They can save money by kicking us out."

As for being allowed to return, "we don't believe them. They're talking three, four years. There's nothing temporary about this," he said.

Jim Neary, who celebrated his 100th birthday with a big party last Sunday, is moving a mile away into his 68-year-old daughter's home.

"I'm a very fortunate man," said Neary, who served in the Air Corps as an airplane mechanic from 1928 to 1933 and who still drives.

"People wouldn't want to fly" in the planes he worked on, he said, sitting in his tiny room next to big pictures of his daughter and late wife. His son, 70, is an invalid in Florida.

Bote, whose tiny room was stuffed with boxes of her belongings, wasn't feeling too fortunate. Just hours from moving, she still hadn't taken down the photos of her semipro bicyclist daughter and other relatives that adorned the walls.

"I'm anxious," she said, adding that she hoped her daughter would stop by that night for a last visit.