CARE HOME (1)

Friday, July 12th, 2013

Mother was transported to her latest place in the world by ambulance, and delivered there alongside another patient at some point in the early evening.

After various attempts, I manage to get through and the telephone handset carrying the call from me finally gets handed to mum at about 8.30pm, and I get to find out what a "Nice room it is", and so forth.

The staff member leaves mum alone with the handset and one of the things that emerges from the conversation is that mum has not been "assessed" yet, and so doesn't even have a walking frame, after which she then heads off outside into the corridor to shout "Hello? Hello!" to return the handset to the staff member on duty.

I'm on the other end of the line saying "Don't try finding them... you haven't got a walking frame..." but she tells me that there are handrails everywhere (although there aren't, I find out later) and, as I get a few details about visiting times and so on from the carer, this doesn't make for the most auspicious start.

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

One of the things mum mentioned is that I would "have to" get her  a mobile phone because there are no patient telephones available. So, as I head over to make a first visit on Saturday afternoon, i pop into Tesco to get as basic a one as I can find.

Typically, all of the really cheap ones are "out of stock" and so, with the addition of twenty quid's worth of credit, I walk out of there fifty quid down and not in the best of moods on a hot afternoon. despite the young salesperson's "uplifting" tales of his own experiences with his family and intermediate care.

I arrive at the prison Care Home at about one o'clock after finding the only parking spot right next to a bus stop. An elderly lady is sitting on a bench outside and tells me to ring a bell that doesn't, it transpires, actually work. Happily, I am eventually noticed by a passing member of staff and let in, although when I mention parking, I am advised that this is "at my own risk" and decide to move it.

Then I have to wait for another member of staff to key in a code to let me out again and, sure as eggs is eggs, have to start the whole "getting in" process all over again five minutes later, after having left the car at the tender mercies of the local housing estate.

I do finally get pointed in the right direction for mum's room and have to endure the bawdy banter which accompanies the sharing of an elevator with one of the nurses, but, eventually, I tap upon a particular door and an greeted by a jolly "hello" by my mother and a far more scary "who's there" coming from another doorway not so far away.

Almost immediately I get "the list" of stuff that mum has thought of for me to do, most of which involves taking some of her clothing home and bringing others back, so, after a brief conversation about the mobile phone which goes along the lines of "Do you want me to charge it and set it up and bring it back another day?" "Yes, do that..." I head off with bags of clothes ("You don't have to put them in bags!" "Well, I've got to carry them out to the car, so... yes, I do...!") I try and make my second escape from Stalag Luft Pflegeheim, whilst muttering about where the tunnel is to the exasperated nurse...

To mum's flat where I try and make sense of the list of clothing she's requested, leave a message on the church answering service explaining where she's been moved to, and grab mum's walking trolley, walking with which is always an uplifting feeling for a bloke just on the right side of fifty.

And so I return once again to the Care Home, and this time I find a slightly more convenient spot to park, and head back inside with bags of clothing ("Oh, can you fill out the list of her stuff as you unpack it...?" says a passing staff member "we started to fill one out, but..." - Gee, thanks!) and a walking trolley. I have another desperate attempt to get spotted so that I can be let in, another ride up in a lift with another nurse ("You get used to it" she says wearily when I wondered which floor to press for, found out that there was only one and had to sheepishly explain that I'm new here...)

Anyway, my clothing choices prove to be at least adequate, and mum seems very happy in her new environment, although it turns out that there are no power points in the room itself so that charging this wretched phone is going to become a bit of a chore.

There's fifty of my quids well spent, eh, boys and girls?

Still, we manage to have a little chat and mum seems happy enough, even though she claims not to have slept well because the hospital didn't add the sleeping pills she says she has to her prescription, and there was a strange reference to a "dreadful smell" in the room that someone on the staff had mentioned before vanishing.

Mostly mum seemed most impressed with the amount of storage space that there is in the room and, after a bit more chat, and with a promise to try and remember to bring a bottle of cordial next time I visit (possibly on Monday after work because it's far more convenient to get to from the office than from my home), I head off back to my home.