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.
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