Hoodwinked: The Rehab Reality I Never Expected

Right now…

I thought I had found a safe place to land.

After being discharged and unable to return home, I had to make a quick decision about where I would continue my recovery. I did the research. I checked the ratings. I chose what looked like the best option.

But what I walked into… was not what I expected.

From a beautiful lobby to a completely different reality just steps away, this experience reminded me that everything isn’t always what it seems—and that sometimes, you have to advocate for yourself even in the most vulnerable moments.

This is a real, in-the-moment reflection on navigating healthcare, expectations vs. reality, and choosing strength even when the environment doesn’t feel right.

And right now… this is where I am.

Right Now with Rhenotha
Hosted by Rhenotha Whitaker

Right Now with Rhenotha is an experience designed to inform, inspire, and entertain. Blending conversation, storytelling, and everyday moments, it captures the energy of what’s happening right now.

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:00

Right now, you're listening to right now with my doctor. And it's good, a right now battery. There are moments in life where you realize you don't have as much control as you thought you did. And this was one of those moments. The facility I was in made it clear. It was time for me to go. I was being discharged. But going home, that wasn't an option. Not in the condition I'm in right now. I can't safely walk. I can't fully take care of myself. And the reality of being alone in my house trying to figure it out, risking a fall, risking hitting my head, that wasn't a risk I wanted to take. So the next option on the table was subacute rehab. And let's just call it what it is. It's a nursing home. Now listen, I'm not above anything that I need in order to heal. Let me say that first. Healing is the priority. Safety is the priority. But at the same time, environment matters. Where you heal matters. What you wake up to every day matters. And finding a place that felt safe, clean, and dignified. Well, that felt like searching for a needle and a haystack. I was given a few suggestions. I didn't want to just go anywhere. I needed to feel confident in where I was going. So I started doing my own research. I'm looking at reviews, I'm looking at pictures, I'm comparing ratings, I'm asking questions, and I found one. A beautiful facility in a small town, about 15 minutes from my house. When I say beautiful, I mean beautiful. The kind of place where you can actually see yourself healing. Bright rooms, clean spaces. It looked peaceful. It looked like a place where I could breathe. And for a moment I felt hope. But then the call came back. They didn't take my insurance and they didn't have any beddings. So just like that, my top choice was gone. I was back to the drawing board. Now at this point, I'm tired. I'm overwhelmed. I'm anxious, but I still have to make a decision. So I found a few more options. I even asked ChatGPT to help me rate them. Just trying to make the most informed choice I could with the information I had. Finally, I landed on one. Four out of five stars. The pictures looked decent enough, not luxury, but clean, manageable, somewhere I could make work. So I gave my selection to the case manager at the facility. And eventually I was approved. And I cannot lie, I felt relief. Not excitement in the traditional sense, but relief. Relief that I wouldn't be alone. Relief that I wouldn't have to worry about falling in my own house. Relief that I would be somewhere where at the very least there would be people around if I needed help. I told myself, this is temporary, this is part of the process, this is what healing looks like right now. So I leaned into it. Transfer day came. I got dressed, took my time mentally preparing myself for this next step. Transportation arrived, and we made our way to the new facility. We pulled up around 5:30 in the evening. They wheeled me into the lobby. And baby, the lobby was beautiful. Clean floors, nice lighting, a calm, welcoming energy. I remember thinking to myself, okay, okay, guys, I see what you're doing. This is going to be all right. I felt a sense of peace in that moment. The receptionist greeted us and directed the transport team to take me to the nurses station. And the moment I left that lobby, everything changed. And I mean everything. The smell hit me first. Strong, heavy, unmistakable. You know what it was. Soil diapers. And it wasn't faint. It didn't pass, it lay good. It sat in the air like it belonged there. Then my eyes started adjusting to what I was actually walking into. The hallways were narrow, the walls were scratched up. Not little marked either. I'm talking about visible damage, wear and tear that hadn't been addressed. I saw holes in the wall, dirty baseboards that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in a long time. And then I started noticing the people, patients sitting. Some flashed over, some looking completely out of it, some unkempt, in ways that made my heart heavy. And I just remember thinking, wait a minute, this doesn't match what I saw online. This doesn't match the pictures. This doesn't match the reviews. And with every roll down the hallway, the reality started settling in deeper and deeper. By the time we reached my room, I already knew, but I still held on to a small piece of hope. Maybe my room will be better. Maybe this part would be would feel different. They opened the door, and that hope disappeared. The room was small, not cozy small, height small. My bed was placed right next to my roommate's bed with nothing but a thin curtain separating us. No real space, no privacy, no sense of comfort. And I just sat there, taking it all in. The smell, the space, the reality. And in that moment, one thought rang loud and clear in my mind. I had been completely hoodwicked. What I thought I was walking into was not what I walked into. What looked one way online felt completely different in real life. And it made me realize something deeper. You can do your research, you can do the reviews, you can look at the pictures, you can ask the questions and still not have the full picture. And in moments like this, you're forced to adjust in real time, to process in real time, to find your footing in real time, because right now, this is where I am. And I had to make a choice. I cannot let this environment break my spirit, or I could remind myself why I'm here in the first place. I'm here to heal. I'm here to get stronger. I'm here so I can walk again confidently. I'm here so I can get back to my life whole. So even in a place that didn't meet my expectations, I had to meet myself with strength, with grace, with resilience, because sometimes healing doesn't happen in perfect places. Sometimes healing happens in uncomfortable places, unexpected places, even disappointing places. But it still happens. And maybe the lesson in all of this is not just about the facility. Maybe it's about discernment. Maybe it's about advocacy. Maybe it's about learning that you have to speak up, ask more questions, push harder, especially when it comes to your care. Because the system doesn't always get it right, but you still have to fight for yourself. And right now, that's exactly what I'm doing.