Sometimes Newer is Better
This is our third review in our series of Honest Reviews on LTCs. Kipling Acres is located on Kipling Avenue in Etobicoke.
My “middle school” was in an old building. I am talking the year 1701, old. (I grew up in Quebec.) Needless to say, it has been updated over the past 300 + years, but I distinctly remember the worn stairs, the pull chain toilets, the long refectory tables, the very, very squeaky wooden floors and the sound made by a solid wooden door with a large window when an impatient teacher closed it a little too hard. I loved that I got to spend my days in a historical building, one of Canada’s oldest buildings. I felt like I was a part of history.
In that case, the environment worked for us. It was a girls’ school and there were not many physical altercations causing damage to the walls, and given that it was the late 1970’s, everyone was able bodied – including, impressively, some of the seemingly very ancient nuns who taught there, likely younger than I am now… I digress.
But old buildings don’t always work and while children and teenagers can often adapt to challenging physical plants (assuming they are safe) it is more challenging for people living with disabilities, and that includes the sick and elderly.
All institutions experience a lot of wear and tear. And while time spent in hospitals, schools, and prisons are generally temporary, people will live in long term care for roughly 2 years and most will die there. Human kindness would dictate that we would want those last months to be spent in as nice an environment as possible. An environment that allows for the latest in care techniques, in recreation, in food prep, in dementia symptom management and be the best environment for the amazing people who work there.
Case in point, Kipling Acres. Owned and operated by the City of Toronto, this 337-bed long term care facility is, in my opinion, really amazing. Don’t get me wrong, no place is perfect…institutional living is just that, however, this place is clean, calm, open and bright. The building allows for state-of-the-art care and recreation, thereby increasing the quality of life for people at the end of life as well as for the people who work there.
Genuine smiles, I saw genuine smiles on the faces of the PSW’s working there on all the floors I visited, including the secured units.
Of course, the people on secured units struggle. Dementia symptoms can include distress and moaning and fear. But the calm approach and the general good mood of the people working there does improve quality of life. One woman on the secure unit was walking back and forth in the pleasant looking lounge area, complete with fireplace. She was agitated in a way that is not uncommon during sundowning. However, I noticed that she and her baby doll were dressed identically. I was informed that the PSW’s on the floor ensure that she and her baby match every day. Details are everything.
Each bedroom door was different from the next, thanks to the use of large vinyl decals which is “Netherlands level” (among the best care standards globally) attention to detail.
This space is designed for living and care. The hospital beds are in the middle of the room, all the bedrooms are private, those rooms designated as semi-private feature a Jack and Jill 2-piece bathroom.
Hallways are wide, allowing all types of adaptive equipment to move freely. There are large dining rooms and TV rooms. There are several outdoor spaces (one even with a stage for entertainment). There is even an on-site daycare for those soul nourishing connections.
Again, no place is perfect, I checked the inspector’s reports, and the last identified infraction was that they were using expired sanitation wipes (November 2024 expiration, being used in January 2025). More seriously, there have been cases of residents falling and resident on resident aggression. But these are difficult behaviours to eliminate, and they occur in all facilities.
However, I saw pride on the faces of the people working there. I saw families just hanging out, playing cards with their loved ones, I smelled freshly baked cookies, and I spoke to a man who had been the head of the residents’ association until recently, who said that he felt entirely grateful to be living at Kipling Acres. I write what I see. More Kipling Acres, please.
