Battlefield Park Healthcare Center

I love working with Battlefield to best serve the community. Every time we utilize the building for long term or respite the staff is easy to work with, communicativate, and genuinely cares for the patients. I love that they have a plethora of activies and deep rooted friendships between patients and staff. I will continue to promote and partner with Battlefield.

My mother was a cancer patient at VCU. She was sent here to undergo physical rehabilitation. While here, they neglected her needs, the head nurse told the staff my mother was a drug addict, and they confiscated all her medications (including painkillers for cancer). I contacted her healthcare team at VCU and they notified the State of Virginia. Later on she would develop septic bed sores that ultimately contributed to her losing the battle with cancer. During my brief visit I couldn't help but notice that the place reeked of urine, and the plumbing did not work. This place is disgusting, and so are the people. My mother was yelled at for leaving under AMA 'against medical advice' while I was present (it was me who was taking her out of there). If there is an afterlife, there's also a spec

The positive reviews come from the staff. This place is terrible and I’m surprised it’s still open. It’s a wonder how the nurses still have their license. The DON is also terrible so go figure. They all stick together to provide the bare minimum care. The only time my grandmother looks presentable is when I assist in her care. She’s had several infections thanks to this place. The social worker is also terrible and difficult to reach. I wouldn’t recommend this place to my worst enemy.

When you first walk into the facility you are met with a clean area, smiles from the receptionist, and an ok smell. However, as you walk past the dinning hall and turned right to go down hallway to my family member's room, the oder would make you sick. During the year and a half of my family member's stay, the smell never changed. Sometimes staff would speak and sometimes they didn't. I called the Director of nursing to ask a question, she never called back. 2 days later I went to the facility and that is when I got to speak to her. I had a difficult time getting the social worker on the phone; she was either in a meeting or out of the office. Finally ran into her in the hallway and she proceeded to discuss my family member's case in the hallway in front of other patients and staff. In cas

Something in the orange. It’s hard to explain, but that phrase followed me through rehab like a flicker I couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was the soft glow of sunrise through the window, or the scent of citrus on my hands after I’d swiped another orange from the nurse’s station. Maybe it was something deeper. A reminder that even in the middle of brokenness, something warm and stubborn can survive. Judah, Lewis, Clint, Anna, Jonathan, Dakota—each of you left a mark on me that doesn’t fade. Judah, your steady voice on rough days reminded me I still had ground beneath me. Lewis and Clint, you made me push for “one more rep,” even when I wanted to quit. And Anna—hell, you helped me find my voice again. You gave me those ridiculous “three words” after each session—Platypus, Rouge, Xylophone—and s