Man Down!

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

There are times when it helps to draw on the memories I have of dad... memories of him climbing up a ladder, his shoulder loaded up with 2x4s. Today was one of those days.

I had been out happily running errands, chatting on my phone, and then ordered lunch to eat at dad's place before clearing out some more of his things.
I pushed open the heavy door into dad's apartment, "Hello?"
He wasn't in his blue chair as per usual. I stepped into the hallway, put down my things and went looking for him. "Dad? Are you here?" I looked into the nook where his walker is stored, as sometimes he goes out for walks, though not so much, lately.
I walked in a little further and peeked into the kitchen... and if he wasn't lying on his left side on the cold tile floor, head wedged under the cabinet overhang.

"DAD! What are you doing there?"

Mumble.

"Are you alright?"

More mumble.

It was instantly evident that he'd gotten up from the table from lunch and stumbled over his own two feet. And there he lay, wedged under the cabinet. I recalled my first aid pep talk to myself from the previous time he fell over and I moved him. (In my defense - that time he had fallen in the curb in the street in the cold. It wasn't safe to leave him there.) So I inspected him without touching him.

"Can you move your fingers?"

Slight movement

"Can you move your head out from under the cabinet?"

He made a move to show me it might be possible.

"Can you wiggle your toes?"

Wiggle right foot. Wiggle left foot.

"How long have you been there?"

"About half an hour."

This would be about right. The nurse would have left at 12 and by now it 12.55. How fortunate that I had just stopped by, as the next nurse would have been on shift at 4pm.

I paced around, what to do, what to do. I could see our plan of moving to Sydney, flying out the window. I recalled my conversation with him the night before... about my biggest fear of walking into his house and finding him lying on the floor. I can stroke that fear off my list. Been there, done that.

I remembered his Lifeline unit - and the button around his neck. I asked why he didn't use it... "Didn't think of it, I guess," was his reply.
I went to the main unit, and pressed the Aide button. Instantly, a person came on... knew who I was and sent an ambulance straight away.

I covered him with a blanket - I'm getting good with this first aid stuff - and set in to wait. Actually - I ate the lunch I'd brought, and chatted to dad. I couldn't believe I could eat. However... I was starved, and knew I'd need the fuel to get through what was to happen next, whatever that would be.

Waiting for the paramedics, I slipped into another room to make a call. Hearing voices in the hallway, I abruptly ended the call and ran into the paramedics in the hallway. They told me that they had to be let in by the block watch lady, as they had tried the intercom 6x and it disconnected every time. (Months of trying to resolve this, not getting to the bottom of it, and now the paramedics can't get in at the front door!? Another problem to resolve. Later.)

Dad was assessed, then they helped him up and onto the kitchen chair. I couldn't believe it. Nothing was broken. He didn't even have a scratch or mark from where his head was wedged under the cabinet. He was completely coherent, had no signs of a stroke, and whatever else it is that they assess for! Reading back through the nurses notes, it was noticed that he'd missed his Sinemet that morning. The symptoms he was displaying: fatigue, muscles slow to respond, lined up with a missed Sinemet dose. Now... dad has missed Sinemet doses before, but none had effected him like this. Seeing him use his walker to walk, his feet barely responding, broke my heart just a little.

The paramedics decided the best thing to do was leave him at home to rest; I'd keep an eye on him as I would be running errands in the area, and the next nurse would be there at 4pm. He'd probably get better attention at home than in the hospital.

I left dad to rest in the blue chair and went into the bedroom to collect the night stands to take to donate to the thrift store. And if I didn't find his "Help, I've fallen and I Can't Get Up" button that he typically wears around his neck, sitting on his night stand. Well! Pretty hard to press a button around your neck for help if you've fallen, when said button is through kitchen, across the dining room and sitting in your bedroom!!! (I recalled a comment he had made to me last week about not needing the button any more as it was useless. Well! It IS useless if you're not wearing it!)

... later that day...

I arrived at his place at 8pm to give him his 8pm pill and assist him into his bed. I arrived ready to tell him not to worry, we'd take care of him. We'd continue to follow through on the plans, that he needn't worry further on anything. That was my intention. However, the charm of dementia et al is, sometimes, especially in stressful situations, the patient becomes defiant, and frankly, delusional. All I wanted to do was be at home in my own bed... but it took me an hour of coaxing, sheet changing and some more coaxing to get him into bed, lights out, so that I could breath a sigh of relief.

I don't recall the last time I've been so happy to see the back end of a day.