For the most part, the nursing home and elder care facilities that comprise the bulk of the assisted living communities across the United States are filled with well trained, caring and attentive staff members who keep the surroundings clean and attend to the patients to the best of their abilities. Unfortunately, though, this isn’t the case across the board and in a field like this -the majority simply isn’t enough.

There have been plenty of reported cases in the last several years of nursing home abuse and neglect. Some of these cases stem from the facilities being grossly understaffed and some from hiring unqualified or unscrupulous employees who don’t have to go through any type of training process and who aren’t watched as closely as they should be while they are caring for the patients and residents.

Sadly, Nursing Home Abuse is a tragedy that is one hundred percent preventable – if the offending facilities had better management and more structured rules and policies in place then we would probably see a very large percentage of the abuse that occurs today disappear – add in background checks and stringent hiring policies for all prospective employees and it’s likely that injury would all but disappear.

This isn’t limited to just actual physical abuse, it could include a number of other equally reprehensible offenses including theft of money and property from residents, neglecting the food and medicinal needs of residents and not keeping the residents or their environment as clean as necessary for the best chances of remaining healthy.

If you have a loved one who resides in a nursing home and have any proof, or even any suspicion of potential abuse, you need to take action immediately. The first step is to speak with the management of the facility to express your concerns – let them know exactly what you’ve seen as well as any suspicions you may have, if the situation is an isolated incident or if the party suspected of the abuse has had any previous complaints or allegations against them then this contact with the management may be enough to end the alleged abuse.

If you suspect and/or see evidence of physical abuse like unexplained bruising, cuts and scrapes or broken bones then a meeting with the management won’t be enough. If you feel that your loved one is being physically abused in the nursing home at which they reside you should get in contact with a personal injury lawyer right away.

A local personal injury lawyer may already have knowledge of previous abuse situations that have gone on in the same facility, they will be able to look at medical records and identify if the injuries listed are consistent with physical abuse and they’ll be able to guide you through the entire process as it unfolds.

Promises and excuses from the management of a nursing home are never enough in the event of abuse. Understand that the management will do whatever it takes to protect themselves from appearing in court as a defendant.

If the allegations of abuse are true, something needs to be done so that nothing like that ever happens again in that location. Threat of and follow through with a lawsuit and representation by a reputable personal injury attorney can force those necessary changes.

A widely publicized lawsuit could lead to the necessary staffing changes, the stricter rules and hiring policies put in place by the management and reparations for the damage that has already been done. Though none of these things will take away the pain that was inflicted from the initial abuse, they can collectively help to ensure that it will never happen again.

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Who would think that a bunch of flowers would cause a lot of trouble? Unfortunately, that’s what happened to a man who sent some flowers to his girlfriend.

Leroy Greer, a car salesman from Texas, called 1-800-Flowers and asked them to send a dozen long-stemmed red roses to his girlfriend with a note that read, “Just wanted to say I love you and you mean the world to me.” He asked the company to keep his purchase private.

It was a sweet thing to do. The flowers were delivered as promised and 1-800-Flowers sent Greer a thank you note out of courtesy.

But Greer happens to be married and the note was read by his wife. She phoned the company who gave her a copy of the receipt from Leroy’s secret purchase. When she learned Greer had a girlfriend, things got crazy.

“The couple was already going through what Greer’s attorney described as an amicable divorce. After learning of the affair, Greer’s wife asked for a $300,000 divorce settlement in addition to child support, said Kennitra Foote, Greer’s attorney,” according to Scott Michels of ABC News.

“That thank-you note is going to cost him money,” Foote said.

In retaliation, Greer sued 1-800 Flowers for $1 million for breach of contract and deceptive practices. He claims that the company violated its privacy policy by sharing his personal information with a “third party.”

“This is not a moral issue. The issue is, is 1-800-Flowers in the business of causing divorce or are they in the business of sending flowers and sticking to their privacy policy?” Foote said.

“In fairness to poor Leroy, 1-800-Flowers does appear to have made a mistake. He explicitly asked them not to send anything to his home, and they assured him that wouldn’t happen. If his account is accurate, they proffered a service – discretely delivering flowers – and they failed to deliver,” added Noah Oppenheim of MSNBC.

No one knows what happened afterwards or if the case prospered. But this story should serve as a warning to two-timing romantic husbands.

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I remember one time when Ben might have been as young as three but certainly no older than five, Abi, his next older sister brought home a new friend as she often did. (To this day, Abi makes new friends incredibly easy and prolifically.) I stood there and watched the whole thing and to this day I don’t know what prompted Ben, but Madeline, Abi’s little friend had not even made it inside the front door before Ben hauled off and hit her. And I don’t mean a little love tap either. This was a full wind up hay maker worthy of a Popeye cartoon episode.

Naturally I was horrified. All the more so because Madeline’s mom hadn’t yet left our driveway and witnessed the whole thing. (Did I mention that this might have been Madeline’s first visit ever to our house?) I stood Ben up in front of me as I sat on the couch and told Ben to apologize to Madeline. He stood stone statue eyes that he can still gets sometimes today simply answered, “I can’t.” Now this was not some accidental or carelessly articulated statement from Ben. No, he knew full well what he was saying and the possible consequences. At this point I don’t know what to do. I’m embarrassed by what he did. I’m frustrated that he won’t apologize. But already at that moment I’m incredibly proud of his integrity and backbone. I try to reason with him and he won’t budge.

I try threatening him saying that his punishment will be worse if he doesn’t apologize and nothing. So finally I apologize to the mom and assure her there will be consequences. I send her on her way and by this time Abi and Madeline are off playing somewhere. What was I to do? The typical corporal punishment at our house was three swats across the butt. With Ben, we’d already had to raise that bar to five. I think maybe this time that was upped to six or maybe even seven. Ben never wavers and continues to look through me with those smoldering eyes perhaps only a slightly more moist.

I don’t know where he gets it from. I don’t always understand his reasoning or motivations. Sometimes I think he couldn’t articulate them if he wanted to. But I will alway admire Ben’s resolve and commitment to his own principles. His willingness to follow the beat of his own drummer regardless of consequences. Even now in his peer pressured, conforming for group approval late teens, the kid in the 80s Volvo sedan with The Silver Surfer hood ornament remains largely his own man. I’ll always remember those two words in context, “I can’t.”

Yesterday I made passing mention to the time I almost blinded our oldest daughter, Rachael. I thought maybe I better start there before you think the less of me. So here is how the story goes:

This was back when Rachael was right at eye level with the gas tank opening of our car. (I bet you’re already getting the picture, huh?) At the time she thought it was great fun to jump out of the car at the gas station and help Daddy fill the tank. What could be the harm in that, right?

Well on this particular day she didn’t quite get the nozzle fully inserted and as soon as she pressed the handle, gas started splashing back into her huge and wide open eyes. Worst yet, in what seemed like one of those forever moments, the nozzle didn’t auto shut off right away so looking back it seems like gallons of gasoline sprayed everywhere.

Rachael screamed bloody murder. (Only someone knowing our Rachael can know just how high pitched and piercing that scream can be.) I scooped her up and ran straight into the bathroom yelling at the attendant to call 911 as I passed. I kept flushing her eyes with water as much as I could but she kept screaming, “Daddy, I can’t see! I can’t see!”

As I recall the ambulance showed up incredibly quickly. Even so, as I flushed Rachael’s eyes, I must have run through my mind several dozen times what it would be like to live for the rest of our lives with a daughter I blinded through my negligence. I rode in the ambulance with Rachael and the cool, calm, and professionally detached though not uncaring paramedics. Gale followed with the other kids in the car.

Thankfully somewhere along the ride to the emergency room or perhaps it was in the first moments in the examining room, Rachael was able to say between sobs that she was beginning to see again but that everything was blurry. The doctor did some doctor voodoo shining a light in Rachael’s eyes in the midst of it and proclaimed that she would be fine. I’m not sure how long it was before she actually was fine but it was quick enough that I had to pinch myself and ask, “Did that really happen?” or were Rachael’s eyes so bloodshot from playing in the chlorinated pool?

Isn’t that the way with crisis like these? They come on in a twinkling of a moment and if we’re fortunate, disappear just as quickly. Other times our lives are turned topsy turvy just as quickly never again to return to “normal.”