Saturday, July 11, 2009

NJ neighbors oppose expansion of hospital for people with CP

Mark Di Ionno's column in the Star-Ledger:

Goodwill comes to the Matheny School from many directions, and rightfully so. The place does the work of angels.

For nearly 60 years, Matheny has cared for those people whose bodies are twisted and minds are trapped by cerebral palsy. In that respect, the hospital goal is liberation. The kind hands of the fortunate, working to free the birth-binds of those less. To help them do the things we take for granted. Like speak. And swallow.

It is the state's only residential hospital for children and adults with cerebral palsy. For those less seriously afflicted, it is school. The art program, which allowed patients and students to release their creative souls, gained national attention and spawned a movement in such things. Music. Adaptive sports. The things that feed a full life.

Each spring, Miles for Matheny draws about 2,000 people to downtown Peapack for a fundraising race. It is a parade of mobility, be it running shoes or crutches, or bicycles or wheelchairs. In fall, there's the Matheny Golf & Tennis classic at the Somerset Hills Country Club. Local schools and clubs hold other fundraisers, and there many private contributors and corporate sponsors.

And so it is somewhat surprising that the school's closest neighbors - many living in luxury-house cul-de-sacs built decades after the school had created its legacy - are trying to stop an expansion at Matheny based on something as mundane as a few extra cars on the main access road to the school. They're playing a familiar card; the traffic will be dangerous to the two dozen school children in the surrounding neighborhoods who walk to buses.

For the past 20 months the school has been in front of the Peapack-Gladstone Land Use Board trying to get approval for a $30 million renovation and expansion. The main goal is to add about 40 needed beds. The hospital is always at capacity with 101 residents, and there is a waiting list.

"When we applied for our 'Certificate of Need' to the state Department of Health, we were told it was being expedited," said Matheny CEO Steven Proctor. "There is a need because what we do is unique."

Some Matheny patients live three to rooms built for two. The walls are decorated with things you would see in any child's bedroom, like sports and pop star posters and family-photo collages, and their personal shelves have stuffed animals and other kid stuff. But the three beds and the sophisticated mobility and treatment equipment make the rooms seem even more cluttered.

New school rooms will also connect the arts center to the main building. Now, patients and students must go outside to get to art and music therapy. A curving downhill ramp leads to the building, which is fine on a beautiful summer day, but New Jersey also has hard winters, and rainy springs. The inconvenience is magnified by the fact that the patients can't dress themselves and must be transported in wheelchairs.

No one is objecting to the 49,000 square-foot addition. Matheny is on 82 hilltop acres. Its architectural footprint after the addition won't trip a double-digit land use percentage. The problem is the traffic.

It's been the hold-up for 20 months worth of hearings. The Trials at Nuremberg only lasted 11.

The road leading up to Matheny is called appropriately named Highland. It is narrow and windy at the bottom of the hill, plotted back when Peapack was a farm village and houses were built roadside. Up top the bends straighten, the road widens, and the newer houses have expansive front lawns. The speed limit throughout is 25 mph. The mile-long road dead-ends at Matheny. Midday it is almost empty. The go-to and get-off work times are the problem for residents. They're worried about the children who walk to school bus stops at the bottom of the hill. Remember that word, walk. One resident said that because the road is wooded in some spots, children must walk in the road and "can't jump to safety" away from cars. Remember that word, jump.

The expansion will bring less than 100 vehicles a day to the road, according a traffic study from Matheny, mostly special transport vans for children who will never walk, or jump, or climb on a regular bus.

Proctor said Matheny offered to find off-site shuttle parking for their employees. It offered an enforceable "traffic budget" that promised to take 50 cars off the hill. No dice. Instead, residents and the land use committee members want more testimony, more consultant reports, more studies.

Goodwill? Gone fishing.

Here is how absurd it's gotten. When Proctor talked about possible parking arrangements with local churches, one board member asked, "What if (the churches) have a wedding or funeral that day?" What if. What if.

Here's another: "There are just too many young children and pets that are already at risk," one resident testified.

Pets.

The names have been withheld to spare them the embarrassment.