Booze, dope, irked clients plague Nunavik patient home

MONTREAL — From the outside, Nunavik House is just another nondescript brick building along a grungy stretch of St. Jacques Street in Montreal.

That’s what it looks like to everyone.

But, for those on the inside, this residence for Nunavimmiut and their patient escorts — which opened in May — evokes a variety of different emotions that range from fear and loathing to simple frustration.

“It makes me think of jail,” says one man who’s been living there for weeks. “If I was a millionaire, I wouldn’t be staying here, that’s for sure.”

He says the food is bad even when country foods, such as the ptarmigans lying in a corner of the cafeteria, are available.

“I can’t eat them because they’re not fresh. I’m used to eating fresh country foods,” he says.

Nunavik House can accommodate up to 55 people, from babies to elders, in what was formerly a low-end motel and, at another time, a federal government immigration centre.

Last year, due to the high cost of running smaller family-run transit houses, the Nunavik Regional Board of Health and Social Services contracted a company fronted by Montreal businessman Nick Patulli to run a larger patient residence.

But in the few months since Nunavik House opened its doors, criticisms of the newly renovated building have been piling up. These include serious complaints about mice in the rooms and overflowing toilets, and trivial ones about the lack of remote controls for the television sets and claims that ghosts haunt its hallways.

Exorcism chases ghosts away

An exorcism ceremony was recently held in room 113 in an attempt to rid it of bad spirits, which residents said made noise and grabbed them as they slept.

Some say they don’t much care for the neighbourhood surrounding Nunavik House, either. It was chosen for its proximity to McGill University’s future mega-hospital, but features seedy hotels and a bar across the street that has reportedly been taken over by Hell’s Angels.

Criticisms of the way of life at Nunavik House are also legion. Some say the staff doesn’t speak English well, and that there aren’t enough Inuit working there.

Many residents, past and present, say they hate the sheet of rules and regulations that they have to sign before checking in.

Visitors are only permitted in a small narrow lounge downstairs. Meals are open only to residents, and meal hours are fixed. Many say they hate the food and complain that only third-rate snacks are available between meals.

No one — especially patient escorts — seems to like the 10:30 p.m. curfew, and anyone who arrives at the door late risks being locked out. There’s also no smoking allowed inside the building, and alchohol and drugs are forbidden. Intoxicated people aren’t allowed to step foot in the house.

Some workers are concerned about the small size of the elevators and other safety issues.

But the management is having its own problems at Nunavik House.

Booze and dope parties

Drunken parties are a continuing hassle. While anyone who’s intoxicated isn’t let in, there’s no way to stop people from bringing in bottles of liquor or bags of drugs.

A look at workers’ daily incident reports shows that there are weekly booze and dope parties in the rooms and common areas, some of which result in violence and calls to the police. Staff occasionally note that they can’t wake up patients and escorts for medical appointments because they’re passed out.

Well-meaning manager Sylvie Bourque says she doesn’t understand the mayhem and level of dissatisfaction at Nunavik House. She is particularly shocked by a recent vandalization of the pool room, where walls and ceilings were punctured with holes from cue sticks.

She’s also pu led about the phenomenon of the disappearing towels at Nunavik House. When the residence opened six months ago, there were 144 towels on hand- approximately three per resident.

But a towel count in the beginning of Nov. showed only 27 left.

“Maybe towels are in short supply in the North?” Bourque asked.

Some say the scarcity of towels at Nunavik House is due to their use as camouflage for bottles of liquor.

Meanwhile, McGill University’s northern module, which oversees patient services for Nunavimmiut in Montreal, has been forced to pay for a slew of new towels.

Serge Auclair, who supervises patient service delivery for Nunavik from the Inuulitsivik Hospital in Puvirnituq, says that some people make exaggerated demands on Nunavik House. He’d like people to realize it’s not a hotel or a private home.

“It’s gotten to the point that they want to keep dogs, cats, and even parrots in their rooms,” Auclair said. “I’m serious.”

While Auclair welcomes complaints “with open arms,” he said Nunavimmiut first need to tell him when there’s a problem. Auclair said Nunavik House’s owner signed a contract to deliver a certain level of service, and if there’s a real problem, Auclair promised it will be fixed.

Patient escorts complain the most

But Auclair said truly sick people aren’t the ones who complain the most about Nunavik House — it’s the patient escorts who make up about a quarter of the residents.

Auclair said he completely supports the need for patient escorts, who provide moral support and assistance for patients who are being released from surgery earlier than ever before, but he said they’re also the people who make the most criticisms, because they were more comfortable at the small transit houses that were formerly used.

Auclair said it’s unfair to blame Nunavik House for causing the rowdiness and drunken behaviour.

“It’s our social problems following us here from the North,” Auclair said. “And we shouldn’t ask the police to solve them.”

“They want to bring the North with them here. They don’t understand Nunavik House is an extension of the hospital,” Auclair said.