Monday, October 24, 2011
I walked in the door a short time ago from a busy day working on all the details that are involved with an international move times two. I feel sad and cannot shake the feeling. Slowly, I am recalling a conversation I had with someone at the hospital this afternoon. We were discussing how to transport/transfer dad from hospital to airport to airplane. I asked her if she thought dad might be able to walk on his own again. She paused before saying, "It's hard to say. The wheelchair is probably the safest place for him. The pill mix up in the beginning really set him back."
You may recall the post about the continual pill mess up in the Sinemet dosage as described in More Disappointment. Where I had to tell the hospital three times about the correct Sinemet dose and time until they got it straightened out. And how dad went from sitting up eating his dinner on the first two nights after he had been admitted, to being bedridden for days on end because he was receiving the Sinemet dose three times a day, instead of four. How they gave him quick release Sinemet instead of slow release Sinemet.
I had taken care of dad for three years and we managed fairly well. Now the hospital undid in three days what I had worked on so hard for for three years... that the Sinemet be on time, every time. I hired nursing support to come in and assist dad once he started to struggle with it on his own. I have the right to be sad over everything dad has had to put up with in that hospital. I cannot wait to get him out of there... only one week to go.
On that front, he is improving with each day. In chatting with him today, he commented that he had really wanted to go shopping for some new clothes. (Shopping... did someone say shopping!?) I told him he did have some new clothes... I had ordered a few things a while ago. I was saving them for him at home so he wouldn't have them ruined in the hospital. I told him I have his outfit ready and waiting to go at his place... it may not be the suit he first travelled in when he left Australia... but it is clean and it matches! His clothes are probably a bit too big... but that cannot be helped for now. We will have to do some more shopping in Sydney. There is far too much going on now to be messing around, shopping for clothes. (Shopping for the elderly holds none of the joy that it does for oneself.) I also asked him if he wanted me to pack his Aussie hat, to which he replied a hearty, "Yes!"
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
The Summons
Friday, October 21, 2011
Being summoned to the doctor's office is not unlike being summoned to the principal's office. I was told at the hospital that dad's doctor wanted to talk to me. Uh oh. I booked the appointment for the visit, and then proceeded to worry for days on end. (Of course.) Waiting in the waiting room only made matters worse... now there was additional time to sit and really think, and worry and panic some more. By the time I was taken into the doctor's office, I was in a right state of worry. But I got to sit there and worry and panic some more. By the time the doctor walked in, I was pacing the floors and trying not to tidy up his office!
My worry and panic were in vain. The doctor and I are dad's biggest advocates. (I secretly knew that, and tried to reassure myself in that regard, but the negative overtook the positive as usual.) We want what is best for dad, and we both see the whole picture... not just what is happening at the hospital. Dad is fine to travel... meat pies, here we come!
Being summoned to the doctor's office is not unlike being summoned to the principal's office. I was told at the hospital that dad's doctor wanted to talk to me. Uh oh. I booked the appointment for the visit, and then proceeded to worry for days on end. (Of course.) Waiting in the waiting room only made matters worse... now there was additional time to sit and really think, and worry and panic some more. By the time I was taken into the doctor's office, I was in a right state of worry. But I got to sit there and worry and panic some more. By the time the doctor walked in, I was pacing the floors and trying not to tidy up his office!
My worry and panic were in vain. The doctor and I are dad's biggest advocates. (I secretly knew that, and tried to reassure myself in that regard, but the negative overtook the positive as usual.) We want what is best for dad, and we both see the whole picture... not just what is happening at the hospital. Dad is fine to travel... meat pies, here we come!
Friday, October 21, 2011
Mystery Meat
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Running errands all afternoon, I did not make it to the hospital till 5.30. A quick peak into dad's room... and no dad! Quickly found him eating dinner at the nurse's station... whew! "I brought him up here to eat dinner with me," she told me. A cute, blond nurse; I am sure dad didn't mind!
I went to sit down beside him and he mentioned something about a Nanaimo bar. A quick glance over his tray revealed all the dishes full, save for one empty side plate. "Dad, did you eat your dessert first?"
Slight grin.
"Dad... you're meant to eat your meal first, then dessert." Bossy boots here...
Stare.
"What have you got there." I did a double take. What DID he have there!? Orange meatloaf pounded out flat and titled "Pork with BBQ sauce" on the menu. If you think that description sounds gross... you weren't the one eating it. What is the deal with hospital food? Come on people! These patients are sick. Probably for most, their only pleasure in life is eating. Do they have to take that away too!? It is not hard to get food right! I just do not get it. Can't they run a hospital like a high end hotel? People would feel better, sooner, get out of there quicker and ease our burdened medical system! IMHO. I digress.
"Come on dad, you've got to get some food into you, get stronger." I pleaded.
Hrumpf.
"Well, take a few bites." I managed to get three bites into him and then his mouth was shut tight. I didn't blame him. It was pretty gross. I have left some healthy snacks on his bedside table for this very reason.
I could not get over the difference in him today than yesterday. He was so much more alert. Asking me questions, wanting to go home. Not understanding why he's still in there. And why he can't go home. (Um, cuz your house is empty and it's listed for sale!) FYI... I have kept him abreast of all the details... but that silly short term memory - he just does not remember. (For example... someone visited him yesterday afternoon. The nuse told me, but he cannot for the life of him remember who it was. So if we have forgotten to say thank you to some of you for visiting, it's not that we don't care, it's that we've, well... forgotten!)
All up... a good day. But always, there in the back of my mind, is that risk of falling and breaking something. Dad does not know why he just can't get up and go for a walk. He thinks he is being kept in the wheelchair for something to do! Legs are getting stronger though... he is pulling himself by foot down the hall in the wheelchair. Determined he is... and wonders why his daughter is so pig-headed!?
Running errands all afternoon, I did not make it to the hospital till 5.30. A quick peak into dad's room... and no dad! Quickly found him eating dinner at the nurse's station... whew! "I brought him up here to eat dinner with me," she told me. A cute, blond nurse; I am sure dad didn't mind!
I went to sit down beside him and he mentioned something about a Nanaimo bar. A quick glance over his tray revealed all the dishes full, save for one empty side plate. "Dad, did you eat your dessert first?"
Slight grin.
"Dad... you're meant to eat your meal first, then dessert." Bossy boots here...
Stare.
"What have you got there." I did a double take. What DID he have there!? Orange meatloaf pounded out flat and titled "Pork with BBQ sauce" on the menu. If you think that description sounds gross... you weren't the one eating it. What is the deal with hospital food? Come on people! These patients are sick. Probably for most, their only pleasure in life is eating. Do they have to take that away too!? It is not hard to get food right! I just do not get it. Can't they run a hospital like a high end hotel? People would feel better, sooner, get out of there quicker and ease our burdened medical system! IMHO. I digress.
"Come on dad, you've got to get some food into you, get stronger." I pleaded.
Hrumpf.
"Well, take a few bites." I managed to get three bites into him and then his mouth was shut tight. I didn't blame him. It was pretty gross. I have left some healthy snacks on his bedside table for this very reason.
I could not get over the difference in him today than yesterday. He was so much more alert. Asking me questions, wanting to go home. Not understanding why he's still in there. And why he can't go home. (Um, cuz your house is empty and it's listed for sale!) FYI... I have kept him abreast of all the details... but that silly short term memory - he just does not remember. (For example... someone visited him yesterday afternoon. The nuse told me, but he cannot for the life of him remember who it was. So if we have forgotten to say thank you to some of you for visiting, it's not that we don't care, it's that we've, well... forgotten!)
All up... a good day. But always, there in the back of my mind, is that risk of falling and breaking something. Dad does not know why he just can't get up and go for a walk. He thinks he is being kept in the wheelchair for something to do! Legs are getting stronger though... he is pulling himself by foot down the hall in the wheelchair. Determined he is... and wonders why his daughter is so pig-headed!?
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Inspirational Choke
Hard to believe... when I started working, there was no Internet, no email, no texting and certainly no Facebook! Everything came through on fax. On thermal paper. (There's a whole section of history lost because of the fading properties of thermal paper!) Jokes, spam, personal letters, all came through on the ole fax machine. I had a fax of this cartoon pinned to the wall over my desk for a long time. (I had to find this copy online, as the copy I had disappeared!)
I won't lie... I was most discouraged this morning (with the events of the previous day) and was ready to pack it all in. "What's the point in all this?" I asked myself. Then I received a timely, encouraging and supportive email (thank you... I think you know who you are!) ... and I remembered this funny cartoon, and it's somehow given me the boost I needed to keep moving forward.
Don't ever, EVER give up.
More Moaning
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Another night of worrying and fretting. Which is frustrating as yesterday itself was the most normal feeling day in a long time. I stopped by the hospital around 6pm, and the first thing the nurse said to me was that dad fell the previous night. He had woken up at 2am and bailed out of bed. The bed alarm had gone off, but the nurse was helping someone else and couldn't get to him in time. (Again, no injuries.) Why was I finding out about it at 6pm... 14 hours after the fact? I guess it has become so common place that there's no need to call and let me know.
I do realize that we are fortunate in Canada to not have to worry about medical bills... of all my worries, that is not one of them. Though I cannot help but feel that you get what you pay for. There has been no continuity of care. That was evident in the pill mix up. I have found myself explaining our situation over and over ... and that dad cannot fall, please ensure that he doesn't. No, our medical system is not perfect by any means, but at least we have something. I suppose.
When I arrived there last night, they were putting him to bed at 6pm. Huh? No wonder he is waking up wide awake at 2 am... he has had 8 hours of sleep and ready to get on with the day.
I have not been introduced to the social worker on this floor. After the social worker on the 4th floor reassured me there would be progress meetings with all the staff etc when I met up with her three weeks ago. I saw her once. I have not laid eyes on the social worker on the 5th floor. I have so many questions. As in... what do we do if he can't leave on the 31st (etc)! I cannot postpone my life any longer. I have given notice on my place, my bags are (mostly) packed... I am ready to go. If we have to change plans again, I hardly have any time left to shuffle things around. Again. I guess we're still at 'taking things a day at a time'. I'm getting pro at that, if nothing else.
3pm update...
Spoke with dad's OT this afternoon and she said dad is doing really well... he is walking with one hand assistance. I would not know any of this if I did not ask, as every time I visit, he has been sound asleep. 4pm on Sunday, 6pm on Monday and 1.30pm on Tuesday. I have asked the nurse to keep him awake tonight till at least 9pm... try to get him back into a regular sleep schedule. At this rate, he can babysit for all my friend's children, as that is the other segement of the population who sleep and day and play all night!
Another night of worrying and fretting. Which is frustrating as yesterday itself was the most normal feeling day in a long time. I stopped by the hospital around 6pm, and the first thing the nurse said to me was that dad fell the previous night. He had woken up at 2am and bailed out of bed. The bed alarm had gone off, but the nurse was helping someone else and couldn't get to him in time. (Again, no injuries.) Why was I finding out about it at 6pm... 14 hours after the fact? I guess it has become so common place that there's no need to call and let me know.
I do realize that we are fortunate in Canada to not have to worry about medical bills... of all my worries, that is not one of them. Though I cannot help but feel that you get what you pay for. There has been no continuity of care. That was evident in the pill mix up. I have found myself explaining our situation over and over ... and that dad cannot fall, please ensure that he doesn't. No, our medical system is not perfect by any means, but at least we have something. I suppose.
When I arrived there last night, they were putting him to bed at 6pm. Huh? No wonder he is waking up wide awake at 2 am... he has had 8 hours of sleep and ready to get on with the day.
I have not been introduced to the social worker on this floor. After the social worker on the 4th floor reassured me there would be progress meetings with all the staff etc when I met up with her three weeks ago. I saw her once. I have not laid eyes on the social worker on the 5th floor. I have so many questions. As in... what do we do if he can't leave on the 31st (etc)! I cannot postpone my life any longer. I have given notice on my place, my bags are (mostly) packed... I am ready to go. If we have to change plans again, I hardly have any time left to shuffle things around. Again. I guess we're still at 'taking things a day at a time'. I'm getting pro at that, if nothing else.
3pm update...
Spoke with dad's OT this afternoon and she said dad is doing really well... he is walking with one hand assistance. I would not know any of this if I did not ask, as every time I visit, he has been sound asleep. 4pm on Sunday, 6pm on Monday and 1.30pm on Tuesday. I have asked the nurse to keep him awake tonight till at least 9pm... try to get him back into a regular sleep schedule. At this rate, he can babysit for all my friend's children, as that is the other segement of the population who sleep and day and play all night!
Monday, October 17, 2011
Congratulations
Saturday, October 15, 2011
There is no hiding it any longer... I am getting married!! I have to organize the wedding and reception. I'm marrying an Italian whom I met on the doorstep!!
Ah dad... I shouldn't tell stories on him... but today's story had me entertained! 'Congratulations,' was the first thing dad said to me when I went in to see him. When I asked why, he told me the story of me getting married. When I laughed and said it wasn't true... he told me he couldn't hide it from him any longer, the jig was up!! I asked whom I was marrying and that's when he told me about the Italian. (Things are looking up!)
Since he has been in hospital, they have had to give him two round of antibiotics. I only found out about it for the second round... which explains the extreme hallucinating he had been having the week prior. I recall commenting that that kind of hallucinating was abnormal for him, that something was up. (Usually I can talk to him about it, and he realizes he is seeing things... and sometimes makes a joke about it.) I only wish I had known about the antibiotics from the beginning... but it would not be the first time the hospital has not communicated with me. I am now aware of the second round, and the hallucinating and confusion is back. It is so obviously related to the medications... the joy of mixing Parkinson's meds with antibiotics.
Can only hope that the antibiotics work this time... guess the hallucinating is the lesser of the two evils at this point. Tomorrow I will have to speak to the nursing staff about building up the healthy bacteria in his stomach. Being in a hospital, and then an airplane... those are both breeding grounds for all kinds of germs.
Lovely places for germaphobics such as myself. My hands are raw from the double-dose of antiseptic cleanser and soap and water. The signs in the hospital don't help... an upside down fist with the pointer finger pointing to an elevator button: 1249 people have touched this button. Or pointing to a door knob: 5499 people have touched this door. "Stop the spread. Wash your hands." Stop the spread... get out of the hospital!!
There is no hiding it any longer... I am getting married!! I have to organize the wedding and reception. I'm marrying an Italian whom I met on the doorstep!!
Ah dad... I shouldn't tell stories on him... but today's story had me entertained! 'Congratulations,' was the first thing dad said to me when I went in to see him. When I asked why, he told me the story of me getting married. When I laughed and said it wasn't true... he told me he couldn't hide it from him any longer, the jig was up!! I asked whom I was marrying and that's when he told me about the Italian. (Things are looking up!)
Since he has been in hospital, they have had to give him two round of antibiotics. I only found out about it for the second round... which explains the extreme hallucinating he had been having the week prior. I recall commenting that that kind of hallucinating was abnormal for him, that something was up. (Usually I can talk to him about it, and he realizes he is seeing things... and sometimes makes a joke about it.) I only wish I had known about the antibiotics from the beginning... but it would not be the first time the hospital has not communicated with me. I am now aware of the second round, and the hallucinating and confusion is back. It is so obviously related to the medications... the joy of mixing Parkinson's meds with antibiotics.
Can only hope that the antibiotics work this time... guess the hallucinating is the lesser of the two evils at this point. Tomorrow I will have to speak to the nursing staff about building up the healthy bacteria in his stomach. Being in a hospital, and then an airplane... those are both breeding grounds for all kinds of germs.
Lovely places for germaphobics such as myself. My hands are raw from the double-dose of antiseptic cleanser and soap and water. The signs in the hospital don't help... an upside down fist with the pointer finger pointing to an elevator button: 1249 people have touched this button. Or pointing to a door knob: 5499 people have touched this door. "Stop the spread. Wash your hands." Stop the spread... get out of the hospital!!
Saturday, October 15, 2011
A Boring Update
This is a bit of a dull update... but we'll take dull! It is a beautiful autumn day here on the West Coast. Trees are marking the passage of time... the ones that line the street in dad's sight line from his room were green with red tops a couple of weeks ago, and now they are fully red. Dad has changed from writhing around in his bed in agony (and me; a basket case), to sitting up in his chair today, having somewhat of a conversation with me. Sunday will mark 4 weeks in the hospital. It doesn't feel that long, despite all the happenings.
Had a long talk with the OT today about preparing for the 15 hour flight, YVR to SYD. In some ways, it feels daunting, all the things to consider, and pack! Medication for Parkinson's and sleeping, snacks, cleaning supplies, along with the rest of the typical carry on items. We are preparing for every eventuality... and in doing so, I think we just might be alright. People have commented that it's a long flight... and this is true! However, I would prefer a 15 hour flight to Sydney rather than the 22 hour car ride from BC to Saskatchewan!! It is all in what you are used to. (At least it isn't the 13 hour flight to Hong Kong, 4 hour stopover and 9 hours to Sydney... now that is a long journey!)
Definitely in a better head space today than yesterday... must have something to do with that sun. Good thing we are headed to the land of sunshine (and meat pies, Cherry Ripes, endless beaches, Sydney Ferries, fabulous coffee, amazing restaurants... and something else too... oh yes... family!)
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