Help for Healing

Bitter & Sweet, living daily with grief


3 Comments

There’s No Place Like Home

After what seemed like forever, Dad returned to his apartment last Saturday. Of course all the preparation was for naught because the promises made to me on Friday were only empty words. When I arrived to get him, the staff had no idea he was being discharged and the paperwork wasn’t even printed out. After several hiccups, he was finally in his own apartment.

It’s been a bit of a roller coaster since then. Three hours after going home, I came back to visit him and he was shaking like a leaf with a fever. After consulting with a nurse, he took some Tylenol and seemed back to himself. The next day, the visiting nurse came to see him. His blood pressure dropped from 120 down to 80 (top number) when he went from sitting to standing. I almost had a heart attack myself when she said she had called in to see if he should be sent to the hospital. Thank God the answer was no. We both would have freaked out.

The next morning we were able to meet his new doctor. I asked if we should increase his low blood pressure med. She suggested we keep an eye on it this week before adjusting anything. Later that day my boyfriend and I were going to walk the dog when I got a call from Dad. He wasn’t feeling good. We went right over and he said he was feeling dizzy. He tried to get up from his chair and almost fell. Thank goodness I caught him.  I had my boys come over right away to stay with him while I worked. Then we went back later. He was already sleeping by 8 pm but he seemed stable.

Tuesday came and the visiting nurse called and said his BP was low. She said she would let me know how it was on Thursday. That brings me to today. I went to see Dad in the morning and his PT person happened to come at the same time. I told him it was good timing because Dad was struggling to stand up from the chair. The visiting nurse and her assistant showed up too. This time Dad’s BP was 80. When he stood up, it dropped to 60/40.  Seven different medical people later managed to convince Dad to go to the emergency room. He did not want to go and I didn’t blame him. We both had a good cry. They suspect he is dehydrated.

As I write, I am in the emergency room with him. His blood pressure is up to 119 with no intervention, not even fluids. There has been no doctor to see him yet so I have no idea what is happening. The best case would be some IV fluids and back to his apartment.  My heart breaks for him. He’s a good man who has lived a good life. He has been ready for what is next for well over a year. Instead, this is his sixth hospital visit in the last 14 months.

The folks where he lives have been great. It is obvious that in the short time Dad has lived there, he has made an impression. He is so well liked and everyone is so concerned for him. They are responsive. I told them all that there is nothing to increase your appreciation more than to be forced to be somewhere else for a while. Here, people do their jobs well and still have common sense and compassion.

Say your prayers for us. Exhausted doesn’t cover it. And whatever I feel, I am quite sure Dad’s suffering is much worse. It’s physical, but it is also just so very emotional.

 

 

 

 

 


5 Comments

More Madness

The good news from last week is that Dad was able to legitimately be in the hospital until Saturday and was transferred to Rehab. As always, there are great professionals, average, and not-so-great-at-all. It is still the policies and procedures that make me crazy because it is a set-up for nonsense.

Dad arrived with eight stitches in his head. We had been told they would need to come out in seven to ten days. I figured that wouldn’t be a problem because he is going to be in a medical facility anyway, right?

Right.

He was admitted Saturday and that is when I started asking questions about the stitches. Dad is going to need these out on Monday. Yep. Okay. I find out that “his” doctor (the one assigned) came in early Sunday morning. I asked if there was anything about the stitches. Nope, he didn’t seem to notice them. Please send a note to him because those stitches need to come out. Yep. Okay. Apparently my voiced concerns did not warrant a note in the chart so he wouldn’t overlook them.

I come in Monday and guess what? Doc doesn’t come in on Monday. Tuesdays and Thursdays only this week. Fine. Can you please make sure the note is there for him? Yes, it is.

I come in Tuesday. Doc came in the early morning. Guess what? He didn’t look at the stitches. The nurses are the ones to take the stitches out but they aren’t allowed to without “doctor’s orders.” This actually goes back to the emergency room because the doctor there should have written orders for them to be taken out, but he didn’t do his job either.

Now I’m mad because it’s twice he’s seen Dad and nothing has happened. I said I want the doctor on Wednesday to look at him then. Nope, can’t do that. Why? Because we can’t bill for more than one doctor. But don’t worry, they’ve only been in seven days. Um, no. It’s been 10. Not sure how they count, but I know they are wrong.

The billing thing royally ticks me off. I go in Wednesday and go to the social workers. I tell them that their billing protocol isn’t my problem. They agree. I told them it is shameful if a doctor can’t spend less than one minute to look at the stitches. It is merely a hoop that needs to be jumped through. The nurses know they need to come out, but they can’t do it without orders. The social worker tells me that the doc IS coming in, even though it’s Wednesday. Phew!

I go to the nurse and tell her to PLEASE not let the doc forget to see the stitches. She says that the social worker is wrong. He is NOT seeing patients today. I go back to the social worker and don’t really have to find the words because she can see the look on my face. She says she will take care of it.

A nice nurse eventually comes and says that if the nurse practitioner happens to show up, she will have her look at Dad. If not, the doc will be there in the morning. She reassures me the nurses have been checking every day and the stitches have not become embedded into his skin so it’s ok. She manages to persuade me that it really is ok.

I come in this morning on Thursday and the doc hasn’t been in yet. He still hadn’t been in when I left at noon. I had to leave for work (imagine that, I have an actual job!) so I asked the nurse to PLEASE call me as soon as the damn stitch thing is resolved. She had already told me that she agrees the stitches definitely need to come out.

As I’m writing, I still haven’t gotten a call. My niece is on her way there. I told her to text me what is going on. She won’t be aggressive with them like I am, but if it gets to be 3:00 and they aren’t out, I will have to go back for a second time today and it will be very, very ugly because I will be very, very mad.

It’s all just stupid. There is no other word for it. Continue reading