I haven't been able to visit my mum in the care home for over a week now due to coming down with a chest cold. There's no way I could risk visiting and passing that on to her on to the other residents or staff, especially since she is so susceptible now to illnesses.
Thankfully though, my sister is back from a long break and has been able to visit and assist with feeding, bathing and changing her, so it's put my mind at ease a little. It's been particularly helpful since my lad has been ill himself (either he gave it to me or I gave it to him, but the poor bugger had a few bad nights spewing up all his milk and food after coughing so much). I've also got the joy of our house move looming close - the mortgage offer in place and exchange of contracts is next. After that, deciding on a completion date, all of which I'm both excited about and dreading entirely. It's been enough to have to juggle with our baby boy, dad's surgery, the other half's jury service, mum's care home arrangement, dealing with council and social services... 2016 has not been the best of years for us.
The last time I visited, mum was nowhere to be seen. As usual, that feeling of dread and anxiety comes over me whenever I arrive and punch in the security codes to get through the doors, but nowadays whatever state mum might be in I know how to react to it. First port of call is the first day room and she wasn't to be seen. One of the carers points me to the other room at the end of the corridor. I head up that way and she isn't there either. So I make my way past that room and down the corridor, looking into the open doors to see whether she's made herself comfortable in someone else's room, as she sometimes does. No sign of her there.
I ask the Deputy Manager and the two of us do the same things again - looking into each room, and calling out for her. No response. At this point I'm wondering where on Earth she's managed to hide herself away - under a bed, behind a wardrobe, maybe she's slumped on the floor somewhere out cold and no-one has found her? These things do go through your mind, and it's reasonable given that she's had two falls in recent months. Thankfully though we find her dozing off in a room with the door closed, quite comfortable on her own, having some peace and quiet. You can imagine my relief but goodness me, it didn't make a pleasant beginning to the visit.
Sadly, it really hit home just how thin and frail she looks. She still has a lot of strength in her, that can't be denied, but she is thin and gaunt and again, those eyes looks tired and confused and I can't imagine what might be going through her broken mind. It is a sad sight and a tragic vision of a woman who was so strong and full of energy. The best I could do was feed her some apple and banana while she continued to doze off in her chair. All I could do was sit there and be with her for a time. We can't talk about things even when she's awake and at least showing some sense of awareness. I guess it's just all slipping away.
Tuesday, 28 June 2016
Thursday, 9 June 2016
A&E Part 2
It has been a rather rubbish week for poor mum. Whenever I see the care home's number flashing up on my phone I get worried. They don't call unless something has happened or they need to report an incident to me and sure enough, mid-Monday morning the call comes in from the deputy manager and senior mental health nurse calls me to advise that mum has had another fall.
She has had a knock to the head again and it's quite right that she needs to be checked over by someone at the hospital, which means another trip to A&E - something I have been dreading ever since he first visit with mum a month ago. On this occasion however, she was taken straight to A&E by the paramedics, accompanied by one of the care home staff, while I followed in the car.
This visit wasn't anywhere near as difficult as the first, as they didn't pursue trying to get a blood or urine sample and didn't need to take any x-rays. Had they insisted on that, it would have been a far longer visit and caused mum a whole lot more distress. Instead, she was checked over by nurses and doctors and they were happy that there didn't appear to be any significant injuries.
The thing they mentioned which did strike a chord with me was that if they did go ahead with CT scan (even if they managed to do it at all, given mum's almost complete non-compliance now), and the staff found a bleed or some other problem, that they would not likely be able to do anything about it. This, along with the DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order we have to think about, has put things into perspective...
We managed to get back to the care home but not after another 4 hours or so in that blasted hospital again. Once she was in the car she was fine and actually enjoys the ride, but getting her there - and taking her through the A&E reception - was the hardest part. I can't imagine how scared and confused she must have been.
I visited her today and the bruise had indeed spread around her eye as expected. She looks a complete mess. The saddest part about today was her asking me, quite clearly and on two occasions, they she wanted to go and what she didn't want to stay there anymore. I don't know if it was just a part of her mostly incoherent and nonsensical ramblings nowadays or if there was a indeed a moment of clarity and understanding of where she was. My father had visited her early today too, and was probably home by the time I had arrived, but she mentioned him and asked me to take her out.
I took my leave back to work when one of the nurses came to take her to her to change her. I imagine that on my journey back to the office, she will have been wailing and crying and doing her best not to let the staff provide the personal care she needs.
The bruises and the crying and the confusion and the rejection of people's help is a horrible picture to paint, but it's the absolute and bitter truth about what she's going through.
She has had a knock to the head again and it's quite right that she needs to be checked over by someone at the hospital, which means another trip to A&E - something I have been dreading ever since he first visit with mum a month ago. On this occasion however, she was taken straight to A&E by the paramedics, accompanied by one of the care home staff, while I followed in the car.
This visit wasn't anywhere near as difficult as the first, as they didn't pursue trying to get a blood or urine sample and didn't need to take any x-rays. Had they insisted on that, it would have been a far longer visit and caused mum a whole lot more distress. Instead, she was checked over by nurses and doctors and they were happy that there didn't appear to be any significant injuries.
The thing they mentioned which did strike a chord with me was that if they did go ahead with CT scan (even if they managed to do it at all, given mum's almost complete non-compliance now), and the staff found a bleed or some other problem, that they would not likely be able to do anything about it. This, along with the DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order we have to think about, has put things into perspective...
We managed to get back to the care home but not after another 4 hours or so in that blasted hospital again. Once she was in the car she was fine and actually enjoys the ride, but getting her there - and taking her through the A&E reception - was the hardest part. I can't imagine how scared and confused she must have been.
I visited her today and the bruise had indeed spread around her eye as expected. She looks a complete mess. The saddest part about today was her asking me, quite clearly and on two occasions, they she wanted to go and what she didn't want to stay there anymore. I don't know if it was just a part of her mostly incoherent and nonsensical ramblings nowadays or if there was a indeed a moment of clarity and understanding of where she was. My father had visited her early today too, and was probably home by the time I had arrived, but she mentioned him and asked me to take her out.
I took my leave back to work when one of the nurses came to take her to her to change her. I imagine that on my journey back to the office, she will have been wailing and crying and doing her best not to let the staff provide the personal care she needs.
The bruises and the crying and the confusion and the rejection of people's help is a horrible picture to paint, but it's the absolute and bitter truth about what she's going through.
Wednesday, 1 June 2016
Is the Worst Yet to Come?
One of the few things we watch on TV nowadays is Gogglebox. On a recent show they were watching a segment from 24 Hours in A&E. And that segment was focused on an old couple, with a chap who already had a condition for which he's been in hospital numerous times. The medical staff were speaking to his wife about what they should do in the need of resuscitation.
There is such a thing as a DNR - Do Not Resuscitate - order. It means that a doctor or other medical staff are not required to resuscitate a patient if they suffer a heart attack or some other illness that requires potentially heavy-handed aid, so that they do not cause more damage or if what they do cause more harm then good in the long term.
It brought tears to my eyes, not only because their situation was terribly sad but also because one of the senior nurses in the home had mentioned this to me briefly at a recent visit. They would need to consult us about this decision. If mum were to have a seizure or heart attack or other problem, that it may do more harm then good to her frail body to try to resuscitate her or try to provide other aid that would make her health even worse.
This is something I'm not looking forward to but I understand the necessity of it. I wonder just how many people out there have had to consider such an awful thing. Sadly it feels like just another way in which we've let her down. I still feel that heavy guilt and sadness about the day she was wrenched from the comfort of her home life when dad had his heart attack, and put into the residential home. It's been over 6 months now and she hasn't been back. I wonder if she even remembers the place.
I visited her today and found her in one of the day rooms, sitting quite comfortably but a little on edge at times. Recently she is been a lot more agitated and at times, quite fearful of things around her. I recall at one point during one of these recent visits that she looked at me and said, clear as day, "I want to go home". It knocked me for six.
I'm told by the staff that it's been difficult to give her the medication she needs at times. They already dispense her medication covertly but it sounds like she's not eating or drinking as much as she should - and of course it's down the staff to understand this and provide the necessary care to give her the quality of life she deserves, but I imagine they struggle with the amount of residents they need to keep an eye on.
At another recent visit, I had the chance to speak to the son of one of the other residents. He told me the story of how his father ended up staying there, and just how difficult it was for him to visit and to see his dad lose much of the man he used to be - much older now, much thinner, and to the point of being almost unresponsive. Going from being a strong man, full of life to a frail, silent person with sad eyes. The image is so similar all around the nursing home with the other residents.
He shared with me how difficult it is to say Goodbye when it's time for him to go, and to leave his dad in the care of the staff in the home. I saw for myself just how emotional he was when he left that particular time. I admire his mum, who is there each and every day, all day long besides her husband. It must be terribly difficult for her.
My father has recovered pretty well from his heart operation, but I don't think he's yet got used to be being home alone. He manages to visit a couple of times a week but cannot bear to stay longer than an hour. I imagine other people would wonder why he doesn't go there more often, or why he doesn't stay as long as he could or should. I understand very well how difficult it is to hang around when she's distressed or angry, or rejecting the personal care she needs. In his condition it's quite unreasonable to expect him to be able to provide any assistance himself, either physically or emotionally. At some point he'll need help himself and likely won't be able to visit her at all.
The emotional strain is constantly there. But I know things just aren't going to get any better.
There is such a thing as a DNR - Do Not Resuscitate - order. It means that a doctor or other medical staff are not required to resuscitate a patient if they suffer a heart attack or some other illness that requires potentially heavy-handed aid, so that they do not cause more damage or if what they do cause more harm then good in the long term.
It brought tears to my eyes, not only because their situation was terribly sad but also because one of the senior nurses in the home had mentioned this to me briefly at a recent visit. They would need to consult us about this decision. If mum were to have a seizure or heart attack or other problem, that it may do more harm then good to her frail body to try to resuscitate her or try to provide other aid that would make her health even worse.
This is something I'm not looking forward to but I understand the necessity of it. I wonder just how many people out there have had to consider such an awful thing. Sadly it feels like just another way in which we've let her down. I still feel that heavy guilt and sadness about the day she was wrenched from the comfort of her home life when dad had his heart attack, and put into the residential home. It's been over 6 months now and she hasn't been back. I wonder if she even remembers the place.
I visited her today and found her in one of the day rooms, sitting quite comfortably but a little on edge at times. Recently she is been a lot more agitated and at times, quite fearful of things around her. I recall at one point during one of these recent visits that she looked at me and said, clear as day, "I want to go home". It knocked me for six.
I'm told by the staff that it's been difficult to give her the medication she needs at times. They already dispense her medication covertly but it sounds like she's not eating or drinking as much as she should - and of course it's down the staff to understand this and provide the necessary care to give her the quality of life she deserves, but I imagine they struggle with the amount of residents they need to keep an eye on.
At another recent visit, I had the chance to speak to the son of one of the other residents. He told me the story of how his father ended up staying there, and just how difficult it was for him to visit and to see his dad lose much of the man he used to be - much older now, much thinner, and to the point of being almost unresponsive. Going from being a strong man, full of life to a frail, silent person with sad eyes. The image is so similar all around the nursing home with the other residents.
He shared with me how difficult it is to say Goodbye when it's time for him to go, and to leave his dad in the care of the staff in the home. I saw for myself just how emotional he was when he left that particular time. I admire his mum, who is there each and every day, all day long besides her husband. It must be terribly difficult for her.
My father has recovered pretty well from his heart operation, but I don't think he's yet got used to be being home alone. He manages to visit a couple of times a week but cannot bear to stay longer than an hour. I imagine other people would wonder why he doesn't go there more often, or why he doesn't stay as long as he could or should. I understand very well how difficult it is to hang around when she's distressed or angry, or rejecting the personal care she needs. In his condition it's quite unreasonable to expect him to be able to provide any assistance himself, either physically or emotionally. At some point he'll need help himself and likely won't be able to visit her at all.
The emotional strain is constantly there. But I know things just aren't going to get any better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)