Hospital Burnout

Thursday, October 13, 2011

In attempting to put a finger on the reason for my funk today... I realized I have hospital burnout.  I am so tired of that place; it's smell, it's boring hallways, it's lack of stimulation.  Iam tired of constantly calculating how much change is in my wallet to plug the meter, and worrying the entire time I'm with dad that my parking hasn't run out and that I have got a ticket.  Parking fees wait for no man.  If I am bored of with all of it, imagine how dad feels!  I miss his old roommate... who was a retired police officer... and in overhearing conversations with dad, sought to reassure me that dad was improving day by day.   There is now a new roommate, and his family seems too focused on his recovery to even say "Hello" to us.  Which is ok... I am tired of meeting new people!  I can no longer remember the names of nurses, OTs, physios, doctor's and social workers.  I think I have met the same two nurses twice.  They rotate so often, I cannot keep them straight.  They cannot keep us straight!  I am still explaining that "We are moving to Australia, so it's imperative that dad not fall again.  We need to be on a plane out of here in two and a half weeks.  Can you have him up and walking by then?"  Thanks.

Walking in to his room this evening, I found him asleep over his empty dinner dishes.  (Poor dad must have hospital food burnout.)  My only thought was, "I want to get you out of here."  Hospitals really are cruel places to be... you go in with one big problem that needs to be fixed, and end up with half a dozen smaller issues.  In this ward, all the rooms are shared, so everyone is sharing tiny quarters with strangers privy to the most intimate of details.  After a while, it gets to you.  I'm starting to think we have overstayed our welcome!

I warned you I was in a funk.  I have fingers and toes crossed that dad can soon move out of this ward and into some respite for some rest and privacy before the next adventure.

Thanks Giving

2011 is right up there with worst years in my life; right alongside 2009. (Many predict 2012 will hold cataclysmic events. I just hold out hope that it will be a better year...) Today is Canadian Thanksgiving; where we sit down with family and friends around a meal of turkey, ham, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, Brussels sprouts, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and reflect on all that we are thankful for. Despite this being a rough year, there is much to be thankful for.

I have an amazing circle of friends. I am thankful for them every day, even though I probably don't voice those thoughts as often as I should. Anne of Green Gables often spoke of it, and I am spoiled to have 'kindred spirits' in abundance. I have friends who have opened their hearts to me... have shared meals, confidences, a place to sleep (when I'm out of town... I'm not homeless, yet!), care packages, a shoulder to cry on, comic relief, phone calls/text messages/emails/Facebook messages of care and concern. For this I am thankful.

We are also thankful for phone calls/text messages/emails/Facebook messages of care and concern for dad. Thank you to everyone who has gone to visit him; at home and at the hospital. For remembering him; for gifts of time, treats, meals, thoughts and care. Through such a trying experience, our friends have made the world a brighter place.

I best let this be all for now. Now if you'll excuse me, there's a turkey with my name on it.

Thank you... Donna... and Norman

Copy & Paste

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"Hello?"

"Hello. It's the hospital calling. Your dad had a fall this morning, just before lunch. He's ok, apart from a skinned elbow. Sorry to be calling you now (4.30), but we've been busy all afternoon."

"Sorry? What? Can you please repeat that?!"

You would be forgiven for thinking that I had merely copied Tuesday's blog post just to flesh out this blog post. However, I copied and pasted as I couldn't be bothered to retype it.

Yes, I had a repeat phone call from Tuesday. This time I was in the middle of Walmart. (Busted! It was my first visit in about 8 months, and I was shopping for specific ingredients for a bread pudding.) Dad fell again, this time getting out of bed. He is definitely getting stronger; standing on his own, and going for walks with a walker. He's just not strong enough yet to walk around on his own. Turns out, a care aid had forgotten to turn on his bed alarm... which alerts the nurses at the nursing station every time he tries to escape. At least he was wearing his hospital regulation hip protectors. This time he ended up with a skinned right elbow to match the skinned left elbow from Tuesday.

Time for (another) daughter-father chat. Showed him the red button to push for nursing assistance; under no circumstances is he to get out of bed without assistance. If he falls and breaks something... he'll be in bed a lot longer recovering than this short period of time now. I told him I do not want any more calls from the hospital, as it kind of ruins my day, and I have enough going on. Capice? Capice.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

I vaguely recall a time Saturday's were fun... lounge around and read the paper, do a spot of shopping, maybe go for a walk or ride a bike. (Ok... maybe they were a little dull, but that sounds like a good time in comparison!) Saturday's have been days of chores and clearing out stuff for who knows how long. Again... how is it taking me this long? How much stuff is there? To be fair, dad and mom moved from a 3600 sq. ft house to a 1300 sq ft. condo, and now dad will be moving into one room. (I'm assuming, unless we find some swanky high care accommodation.) All those household items have to be moved and distributed somehow. I'm now in the final push to empty the house, and I have to say this is the worst bit. Months and months of making decisions as to what goes where. Now I'm left with a couple of boxes of things and I'm tempted just to toss the lot in the dumpster. Though there are few useful items in there... so I'll get to them... tomorrow.

On the way home, I had the thought that I am looking forward to living out of a suitcase for a while. That way, I can focus on some other aspects of life for a while, instead of stuff, and the distribution of it: charity bin, thrift store, family, friends, moving boxes, dumpster... As I was mulling this thought over, I stepped into my own home, piled high with boxes and items strewn across the floor. One house down, one to go...

Hip Protectors

'Have you considered hip protectors for your dad?'

'Come again?'

'Hip protectors.' The Occupational Therapist proceeded to show me a pair of putty colored pants with foam saucers inserted in the fabric in the general area of the hips. I have heard of hip waders... but these are another sport entirely. She went on to say, 'The hip protectors protect the hips in a fall, because you don't want your dad to break a hip.'

Apparently dad has been very lucky that he has escaped hip injury in his falls. It is a major concern with the elderly ... this sport of breaking hips. I wanted to say that dad doesn't break hips. He breaks ribs, wrists and vertebrae quite well, thank you very much. (He's broken wrists and ribs ever since he was a young boy and replaced his bike handle bars with a steering wheel. The story involved a dog darting in front on the bike, an unmovable steering wheel and a fence, over which all three objects went sailing...)

Breaking hips. Really? Something else to worry about? And you know when i worry about something, it sometimes comes to pass!! We have a plane to board in 3.5 weeks. There had better not be any breaking of the hips in the meantime.

Back to putty colored hip protector pants... there's a huge, untapped market for seniors clothing. What's on offer is appalling. Take for example, the color options for the pant version of the hip protectors: Gray, Navy Blue, Putty and Camouflage. Those colors have never been on trend! Seniors haven't been seniors all their lives... why should they be left to dress in the most hideous of fabrics and colors in their golden years? Dad cut a dashing figure in a suit in his youth... and now his only option are Silly Putty pants in an awful polyester? With a shirt with Velcro closures? (We haven't gone there yet... I put my foot down! I told him if he's to hang out with me, he has to be presentable!) There's a huge, growing market for comfortable, easy, stylish, functional clothes for seniors and those with disabilities. Look for my spring 2012 collection, coming soon!

(Should you be curious as to what hip protectors are, click here for the link. Warning... they're very tempting!)

Sharp Inhale

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Spoke too soon. I didn't even get 24 hours of steady breathing before the next panic. My coat was on, keys were in hand, and I was about to run out the door Tuesday afternoon, when the phone rang. I won't lie, my heart skipped a beat. (It usually skips a beat these days when the phone rings.) I've had a sixth sense that the hospital would be calling me, you could say I've been waiting for the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello. It's the hospital calling. Your dad had a fall this morning, just before lunch. He's ok, apart from a skinned elbow. Sorry to be calling you now (4.30), but we've been busy all afternoon."

"Sorry? What? Can you please repeat that?!"

It turns out that he was left unattended. His nurse was trying to deal with other patients, and he promised her that he would behave while she left him. Not exactly sure what he did, but sounds like he tried to move on his own. What!? This is the same man that two days prior, I could see him trying to get out of his chair. I was worried he would fall flat on his face in doing so as his muscles are still weak. So I left him at the nursing station for the nurse to watch over him after I left. Two days later he's left unattended, out of his bed, out of his wheelchair? Again, words fail me.

In speaking with the nurse there (there's a new one every day, I've only seen one of them twice), she claimed that they didn't know he had a history of falling. I said, "Parkinson's - fall risk." It is written all over his charts at home. How do they keep missing these things?

They promise to be super vigilant from now on; harnessing him, adding an alarm to his wheelchair, not leaving him unattended. I don't know what to think. He has a swallowing issue with Parkinson's, and cannot eat certain foods. I think I will need to take that assessment form in as well. I'm trying to think of what else they're going to mess up on. Next thing I know... they'll be feeding him popcorn.

When I went in to see him last night, he was sitting up, eating his dinner and looking like he didn't have a care in the world! Why would he when I'm carrying enough stress for five people!! I will be walking on eggshells until our departure date.

A Sigh of Relief

Monday, October 3, 2011

Standing at the sink washing dishes, I realized something was wrong. There was no panic in the pit of my stomach. My hands were steady. My breath was even. Could it be? Is this what 'normal' feels like? It has been so long, I have forgotten. Every night at 8pm for the past two years(at least), I had to call dad for his 8pm pill. Nine times out of ten I had to call twice to reach him on the phone, explain where the pill was, tell him to take it with water, explain the 1/2 bedtime dose. Pure frustration.

With him in the hospital, I've not had to do the pill reminders (other than whipping the staff into shape to get the pills on schedule)... but I have had the worry of him recovering... is he going to recover? Is everything going to be ok? That worry replaced the 8 pm pill worry in the pit of my stomach.

Until today. Today has been the first day I have been able to exhale. Today he was sitting up, mind clear... even asked me what I had been up to that afternoon, and thanked me for coming in to see him. In speaking with his nurse, he said that dad had had a good day. He had been up all day, ate and drank well, shifted from a two person transfer to one person transfer from bed to chair. (Big steps!) A few more days in a row like this, please!

In a side note; I had been reading further in October 2011 Vogue, about Arianna Huffington, co-founder of Huffington Post. This is a woman who knows all about juggling many activities and responsibilities. She states that women have a responsibility to correct the way things are run. Her slogan is, "Unplug, recharge, sleep." We have so much going on in our lives, we are connected all the time, and there is an expectation to be connected all the time. With so much going on, all the more reason to take a break, step back and hear yourself think. I have found this slogan to be beneficial in these past weeks in dealing with all that dad has thrown at me. I have needed to unplug, recharge and sleep. The days following that action have definitely been easier to manage than the days where I don't give myself a break. On that note, I think I need to follow through on my words, and disconnect... good night!

Click here for the October 2011 Vogue article on Arianna Huffington...

Good Days, Bad Days

Sunday, October 2, 2011

I cannot believe dad has been in the hospital for two weeks already! It has gone by in a complete blur. I can barely remember that first week, driving to the hospital in daze, worried by what I would find when I rounded the corner into his room.

When I consider that week, things are definitely improving. Visiting dad on Sunday, he was sitting up in his wheelchair, ready to get back on his feet...

I hesitate to write about dad's confusion/dementia, as I want to retain some of his privacy. I guess I don't need to share all the details... just enough to explain it.

As mentioned, the nurses got him sitting up in a wheelchair, and tied him in with a seatbelt. (Being in bed so long, his legs are weak, so he isn't walking yet, though he is standing on his own. So he needs a seat belt while sitting up... so he does not get up and do a nose dive... no more of those, thanks!) He became increasingly aggitated as I sat with him. I watched him inspect the brakes on the wheels of the wheelchair, trying to figure out how to release them. He was gripping the arm rests and trying to stand up. I tried to get him to rest in the chair, but he got angry with me. I was worried he would figure out how to release the button on the seatbelt, then try to stand up!!

I expressed my concerns with the nurse just before I left. The nurse also noticed his actions and said he was 'restless'. They moved him up to the nurses station so they could keep an eye on him. I know tomorrow is another day, and he might come around. But it was distressing to leave him there in that condition.

Afterwards, I was thinking about the times in the past where he has been like this. He becomes overly fixated on something and I can't talk him out of it. When I try, he gets very frustrated with me, almost belligerent. I'm not a medical professional by any stretch, but it seems to be linked with low blood sugar, or low electrolytes. While I was there, his tummy was rumbling like he was hungry. This despite the fact that I'd taken him a slice of chocolate cake and sauce for an afternoon treat. I wish I had given him something else to eat, and more water.

This is why there are good days and bad days. When the medication/food stars line up, we can have a good day and I can talk to dad like it's the old days. (Kind of... short term memory loss does make communication awkward.) When the medication is off, and his blood sugar dips, we are in for trouble as you can see above. Can only learn from the previous errors, and try to build on that. Moral of this story is.... I will discuss my concerns with the nurses and make sure he is getting snacks between meals to keep his blood sugar up.