Probably a stress fracture, said the nurse. They often don’t show up on x-rays.
I spent a dull afternoon in Minor Injuries. There were only two members of staff on duty. The television was on. That mindless daytime diet that atrophies the mind. I found I could not read. Two of my fellow waitees struck up a conversation. It was mainly about footwear; heels versus flat shoes.
I kept quiet and tried to stop my eyes from closing. Continue reading
Originally posted on MyT
MARCH 14TH, 2009 21:59
Boating grows up
Last week’s journey East was unplanned.
My mother was ill and in hospital. Everyone said she needed surgery but they weren’t sure she was fit for a general anaesthetic. No one was able to say what an alternative solution might be. Medical staff said she would be made comfortable, but under questioning, comfortable seemed more of an aspiration than a plan. So I scooped up the Cat and made for das Boot. It was great to have it there, my floating home from home, a familiar, welcoming refuge. Continue reading
Big news.
Mother has been offered a room at our first choice nursing home from the middle of next week.
Mixed feelings? You bet.
Naturally, I am pleased that Mother will now leave hospital. But it’s a big difference from returning to her flat.
I like what I’ve seen of the home. It’s just a bit difficult to adapt. And if it’s difficult for me, how will it be for Mother? Continue reading
A day of silver linings as we search for Mother’s new home.
Firstly, we were at the hospital when a nurse from the tissue viabilty team came around, so we know Mother’s latest pressure sore is granulating nicely.
Secondly, we went to see a care home with nursing that we liked, though the location makes my heart sink.
Thirdly, I cooked us omelettes for lunch with our fresh eggs and vegetables, then peaches and melon for pud. Yum!
Fourthly, Not Cat is increasingly comfortable with and welcoming to Aunt.
Fifthly, we went to Ely to look at at another home and the skyline was magnificent, and the colours magical. We rejected the home as not suitable for Mother, but the staff were a delight.
Sixthly, our good family friend has promised to take aunt to visit Mother while I am working next week, and on a course the week after.
Peep-bo!
Seventhly, I’ve just made a mean ratatouille for tomorrow. Continue reading
Made it across with water with a borrowed i-pad reaching Belfast in the sun.
It’s been a gorgeous day. Earlier I was looking out of the kitchen window at stripes of White cloud across a still blue sky. Being that little bit further north, the days are a bit longer, giving the illusion of more time.
Ah, time. That’s what it all boils down to. I found a message on my mobile from the hospital, and called back. It was to find out how we are doing with our looking at nursing homes. I mentioned one I’d found online and asked if she knew it.
Have you visited it? I was asked.
Another evening in the garden. It’s very windy tonight and Not Cat is chasing unseasonably brown and fallen leaves instead of insects.
I’m not crying.
I’ve cried a lot today. Every time I’ve thought of Mother. Every time I’ve thought of the impossible choices to be made. Every time I’ve thought of the colleague who said “Well, she’s old. Her life is over. It’s the young ones I care about,” yet who described herself today as empathetic, a person who knows when someone is low and gives them a hug. Self-deluded woman. Continue reading
At the start of next week there’s a meeting at the hospital which may decide Mother’s fate.
I understand the hospital wants firm decisions to be taken about where Mother will go when she is medically fit to leave its portals.
The family, on the other hand, wants an information gathering session, and for any decisions to be deferred until we know if Mother’s leg mends properly, and for the sore on her heel, a legacy of poor care in the same hospital, to be history. Only then, we feel can we make an informed decision.
There should be a good turn out. Doctors, trauma nurses, OTs, physios,a social worker, a District Nurse, someone from the scheme where Mother lives, three members of her family, a family friend if he can make it, and if we’re lucky, a representative from the Alzheimer’s Society. Continue reading
I missed a call from the hospital social worker and she had gone home when I was able to call back, so I have not been able to ask any of the myriad questions going round my mind.
I’ve just come off the ‘phone from Aunt who is very upset and wound up. As she suffers from high blood pressure this is also worrying. I tried to just let her vent some of her stress and felt my head starting to pound.
Note to self: replenish stocks of camomile tea and lavender oil.
So, no real progress, but no guns to our heads from the hospital either. My research into care/nursing homes doesn’t look that promising. The ones we have visited are the closest, and a shocking number don’t have en suite. The one that really confuses me says there are 60+ residents in 35 single rooms. Are they in bunk beds? Maybe there’s a rota system.
“Up you get Mrs Jones, it’s Mrs Smith’s turn to have the room now.” Continue reading
I can’t say we have got very far since I posted last night.
My chances of getting away in a couple of weeks for a break seem remote. I’m obviously not happy about it.
Not just because I’ve been looking forward to catching up with Cousin and meeting the new dog, but also in the wake of Olga’s death a family reunion is being planned to coincide with my visit. I know Mother’s brother and sister in Belfast will want to talk to me about her, and I’d welcome their thoughts. Telephone conversations are not the same. Continue reading
Friday
Out in the garden with the netbook. Barely able to see the keys, Finally succeeded in getting online.
Tried earlier with Aunt anxiously following me with my fleece over her arm.
No joy.
Though Aunt became quite expert at seeing how few bars we had.
We tried again in Sainsbury’s car park.
No joy.
We are looking for nursing homes. We feel the hospital has already made its decision and no matter what we say, Mother will not be allowed home.
