Wednesday, May 8th, 2013
Wednesday's evening visit to see my mother in hospital was memorable because of two things. First, there was the horrendous traffic jam which made us terribly late and meant that we missed the first twenty minutes of the allotted hour with me raging and railing against the fact that such things only ever seem to happen when I'm on an actual schedule, and found me finally arriving at the ward in an agitated and less than avuncular state of mind.
The other significant memory comes from the fact that the door to her little side room was wide open and so, having checked the board to see that she was still being kept in the same place, I walked right in only to get a glimpse of the fact that there was a male nurse in with her and they were involved in dealing with what we'll call "a procedure" which is a sight that few of us should have to endure and which definitely falls into the "too much information" category of my life.
Once things had been sorted out, part of which involved a quick chat with the nurse as we all stood in the corridor waiting for events to naturally unfold (mum's ready to return to "semi-solid" foods, apparently...), we entered to find a much more "normal" scene, and managed half an hour of chat - I really must try not to keep on leaping in and finish mum's sentences for her when she's trying to think, apparently - which didn't find me resorting to reading from the newspaper which I'd brought along just in case the conversation really began to flag.
This was all part of my "master plan" to help her to begin to engage with the outside world again and, whilst it didn't work entirely, a small victory could be claimed from the fact that she did ask me to leave the paper behind and that she might try reading from it later, and that she appeared to be looking at it as we headed off into the night.
It's just a pity that it wasn't full of "happier" stories...
Thursday, May 9th, 2013
A thoroughly depressing visit. I arrived in a grim mood, perhaps because it had been a long day, perhaps because I was tired, or perhaps just because the three-day summer appeared to be over and the rains had set in once more.
Depressing might be too strong a word. I think maybe that dispiriting might be a more appropriate term, because mum seems to be in a very dark place at the moment in her potentially long road to recovery and keeps saying things about being "better off dead" or "wanting to die quickly" which are never the jolliest things to have to retort to.
Reminders that she felt similar feelings two and a half years ago and then managed a fair couple of years of "normal" life seem not to penetrate, but then she hadn't had the best of days, given that she was in her chair when I arrived having had the sort of incident occur that required her bedclothes to be changed and that today's nurse du jour wasn't the chattiest sort, although I could hardly blame her given that another "comfort break" was required during the visiting hour.
During our conversations it emerged that a doctor had seen mum today, there was some discussion of her going into "respite care" for six weeks upon her release, and that she did actually read the paper I left her with yesterday and even remembered some of it, but her sense of what time it is is still pretty scrambled.
Still, I managed the usual pep talk, reminded her again that it's early days and she is at the beginning of what might be a long road to recovery, and we parted on amicable enough terms, with me carrying another small bundle of washing to take home with me.
THe car park was blocked by a breakdown truck, so I had to leave by going the "wrong way" around (which always disturbs me), and ambulances accompanied me on part of my journey home, so someone else, it seems, is in the process of having their life turned upside-down, too...
Friday, May 10th, 2013
My own stomach seems to be playing up as I head in for Friday evening's visit, but mum spirits seem much brighter tonight than they did yesterday, and I feel that she is capable of hearing the sad news I have to tell her about the death of an old church friend of the family, and we spend some time reminiscing about him.
The vagueness continues, although mum's reluctance to be put back on the main ward is as resolute as ever, even though it will happen, but apart from that, mum seems uncertain about whether she saw a doctor, and when she saw him, so her ongoing daily suggestion that I might not need to visit every day seems redundant, given that it seems to be the only thing giving her a sense of what time it might be. When prompted, however, she is able to share some of the events going on in the lives of the nurses and remembers taking a longish walk with the physiotherapist.
I am ushered out at one point because certain intimate requirements need to be dealt with, and so I try to track down a staff nurse to get a proper update, although the description of me as "her husband" is something I could have done without, even if it did prompt much hilarity. I mean, I know I'm looking tired, but honestly...
Anyway, when I am finally tracked down by "Suzanne" I do get the full rundown of the level of drugs used to prevent the seizures that they are trying to reduce and stabilise, the plans to re-introduce the blood thinners, it being another week until they might consider her to be as medically stable as she was before the seizures happened, putting her back amongst the general population ("That'll go down well..." I thought), and continuing physiotherapy.
Nothing new, but a pretty good overview of the way things are and, perhaps, the way they're going to be in the new "normal..."
Saturday, May 11th, 2013
I'm beginning to think that afternoon visits are simply a bad idea. Mum's obviously far too tired for visitors in the afternoons and whilst the more irritable version of her reappearing is usually a sign that she's getting better, it doesn't make for the happiest of hours, given that the mantra "I think I'd be better off dead!" is a constant companion, coupled with an endless obsession with being allowed to get out of her "uncomfortable" armchair and put back into bed makes the whole experience rather unpleasant.
We talked about the benefits of her supposed physiotherapy regimen, and I spent every five minutes or so trying to persuade her not to buzz the alarm and summon a nurse to have the same discussion over again. Even as I left it was "Will YOU make sure a nurse comes in after you've gone and puts me back into bed?"
After that, Saturday shopping, the associated traffic, and a brief trip to IKEA seemed like a breeze...
Depressing might be too strong a word. I think maybe that dispiriting might be a more appropriate term, because mum seems to be in a very dark place at the moment in her potentially long road to recovery and keeps saying things about being "better off dead" or "wanting to die quickly" which are never the jolliest things to have to retort to.
Reminders that she felt similar feelings two and a half years ago and then managed a fair couple of years of "normal" life seem not to penetrate, but then she hadn't had the best of days, given that she was in her chair when I arrived having had the sort of incident occur that required her bedclothes to be changed and that today's nurse du jour wasn't the chattiest sort, although I could hardly blame her given that another "comfort break" was required during the visiting hour.
During our conversations it emerged that a doctor had seen mum today, there was some discussion of her going into "respite care" for six weeks upon her release, and that she did actually read the paper I left her with yesterday and even remembered some of it, but her sense of what time it is is still pretty scrambled.
Still, I managed the usual pep talk, reminded her again that it's early days and she is at the beginning of what might be a long road to recovery, and we parted on amicable enough terms, with me carrying another small bundle of washing to take home with me.
THe car park was blocked by a breakdown truck, so I had to leave by going the "wrong way" around (which always disturbs me), and ambulances accompanied me on part of my journey home, so someone else, it seems, is in the process of having their life turned upside-down, too...
Friday, May 10th, 2013
My own stomach seems to be playing up as I head in for Friday evening's visit, but mum spirits seem much brighter tonight than they did yesterday, and I feel that she is capable of hearing the sad news I have to tell her about the death of an old church friend of the family, and we spend some time reminiscing about him.
The vagueness continues, although mum's reluctance to be put back on the main ward is as resolute as ever, even though it will happen, but apart from that, mum seems uncertain about whether she saw a doctor, and when she saw him, so her ongoing daily suggestion that I might not need to visit every day seems redundant, given that it seems to be the only thing giving her a sense of what time it might be. When prompted, however, she is able to share some of the events going on in the lives of the nurses and remembers taking a longish walk with the physiotherapist.
I am ushered out at one point because certain intimate requirements need to be dealt with, and so I try to track down a staff nurse to get a proper update, although the description of me as "her husband" is something I could have done without, even if it did prompt much hilarity. I mean, I know I'm looking tired, but honestly...
Anyway, when I am finally tracked down by "Suzanne" I do get the full rundown of the level of drugs used to prevent the seizures that they are trying to reduce and stabilise, the plans to re-introduce the blood thinners, it being another week until they might consider her to be as medically stable as she was before the seizures happened, putting her back amongst the general population ("That'll go down well..." I thought), and continuing physiotherapy.
Nothing new, but a pretty good overview of the way things are and, perhaps, the way they're going to be in the new "normal..."
Saturday, May 11th, 2013
I'm beginning to think that afternoon visits are simply a bad idea. Mum's obviously far too tired for visitors in the afternoons and whilst the more irritable version of her reappearing is usually a sign that she's getting better, it doesn't make for the happiest of hours, given that the mantra "I think I'd be better off dead!" is a constant companion, coupled with an endless obsession with being allowed to get out of her "uncomfortable" armchair and put back into bed makes the whole experience rather unpleasant.
We talked about the benefits of her supposed physiotherapy regimen, and I spent every five minutes or so trying to persuade her not to buzz the alarm and summon a nurse to have the same discussion over again. Even as I left it was "Will YOU make sure a nurse comes in after you've gone and puts me back into bed?"
After that, Saturday shopping, the associated traffic, and a brief trip to IKEA seemed like a breeze...
You are writing about this brilliantly.
ReplyDeleteNot really, but thank you for saying so...
DeleteIn the end these diaries are serving a dual function of reminding me what's been going on and letting the extended family know what's going on...
I still worry that discussing such things in an "open" space is a little intrusive, but, hey, you use the means you've got, don't you...?