This from Laura:
I guess that means things are slowly coming together again.
This from Laura:
I guess that means things are slowly coming together again.
Father is home sleeping in his newly delivered bed – at home. Yay. All is well once again.
All this can be done at home, not in the hospital.
I’ve kept Aunt Isobel and Aizlynn up to speed with what I know.
(Now it’s time to take care of myself – ear infection – earache, vertigo, & nausea.)
Nurse Laura was too busy to talk to me. So Margaret, the head nurse on the floor Father is on in Chilliwack hospital, was sure there was no way that Father could get home before Wed. next week. Finally, after a few attempts at speaking human to her, I said, “I’m not a very commanding person when it comes to conversations – never have been – so, please, just let me speak for a minute.” <Silence> I explained that I didn’t want my father to die in hospital. He should do so at home. She softened her stance and sounded like a real person, just just trying to control the conversation to obtain a desired outcome. Is there any way of making this happen – like if I were to arrange to borrow, rent, or purchase a hospital bed so he could be transported home? Yes, absolutely, if you can arrange it on your own, we’ll work with you on that. <Sigh> Bossy-boots power woman trying to ride over my ass with a steamroller.
Don’t be heavy, mamma; I’m your brother.
Lisa at Discount MediQuip out of Chilliwack, BC, was the very opposite. “Yes, I can find a bed for your father from somewhere. Just give me a minute.” Within a minute, she came back from putting someone in a headlock (I’m sure figuratively) to get a bed for me. The long and the short of it is that Father’s bed will be delivered by 2pm today. Cost: $220 ($30 delivery, $30 setup, $150 rent for one month, $10 mandatory mattress cover.)
Laura (henceforth Father’s friend, not nurse at hospital) says Father will be delivered by patient transport at 4pm today. Father was happy and ate lunch. Yay.
The kicker was last night was when Father asked Laura if he should die in the hospital or at home. It broke my heart to hear this. No, Father, I don’t believe you are going to die in hospital. You’re going home so that you can live there with your dog Cash, your 43 chickens, your beautiful back yard full of flowers, and Laura looking after you. That’s what you’re gonna do.
Laura called last night, freaked about Father’s medication and overall treatment (or lack of). She says the hospital staff aren’t feeding him (just leave the food on a tray 4 feet away), aren’t giving him his medication for swelling and seizures, have disconnected his fluids IV, and leaving him in the supine position every day (rather than sitting up). He’s developing bed sores on his hip and legs.
I called the hospital last night and spoke with Zee, a nurse; she says that he’s taking his meds but has been disconnected from the IV. She doesn’t know why and says I should call Dr. Heather Leyen at 8am in the morning.
I did that, and her voicemail states that unless you’re cancelling an appointment, don’t bother leaving a message because it won’t be returned. How do you like that.
So I phoned the hospital and spoke with a new nurse, Laura (first day with Father), inquiring about him. She said she’d check into him and for me to call back in 45 minutes.
In the mean time, Laura (Father’s friend, not the nurse) is waiting to see Dr. Enyvari, Father’s “regular doctor”. (In fact, he’s a walk-in clinic doctor who only accepted Father as a one-off.)
I’ll keep you posted.
This site is here to let everyone know how Les is doing. Have a look at the about page for more info.
So this is the second attempt at making this happen. While I was there at Father’s house earlier this year (2017), the internet was so slow in his house that I couldn’t put this site together. I’m back home now and attempting to put it all together again. I hope to have it up-to-date within a week; I start school Sept. 5 and want to get it all done by then.
There are lots of entries that will come before this. I’m back-dating all entries up to now.
Father has been in the hospital for a week due to the seizures. He had a few more in hospital until they could get things sorted out with the medication. The meds seem to be working now.
Laura called me to say everything was better and that he was going home tomorrow. They’ll use a hospital patient transfer service (like an ambulance except without the medical equipment or paramedics).
Laura thinks he might be too weak for more radiation therapy. He’s lost muscle tone in his legs from being a week in hospital, and he’s only eaten a bit of sandwich per day. He would be hungry at 4pm, and they’d come with supper at 6pm; that doesn’t work, so Laura has been bringing him food. She tried to feed him some egg from a Tim’s breakfast sandwich. “I’ve never eaten egg in my f###ing life!” He didn’t have his teeth in for the bacon.
He loves sitting on the balcony looking at his yard. Laura has fixed it up quite nicely with flowers, trimmed shrubs, painted railings, and such. So he sits out there, has a coffee & cigarette, and enjoys life.
Father’s in hospital. He’d had a seizure, so Laura called 911. They say he’ll be there for a few days. As it turns out, they’d misjudged how much medication he needs to control the seizures. He’s now on 5 tablets rather than 2 per day.
Today I saw Father at the hospital. He was curled up in a ball on his hospital bed. Laura said, “Justin’s here.” He looked and asked me how I was doing. Not bad, I said, and how was he. “Not worth a shit,” he replied. Laura and I fed him some Tim Horton’s coffee by way of straw. We had some small talk for a while. He asked where the bathroom was – number two – but Laura said he could just use his nappies. Not very appealing, I know, but I dare say he’s used to that by now. He asked, “How’s your old mother doing?” I said she was a little slow but doing the best she can and that Floyd was getting a little slower these days but in good health.
When I got back, he was getting a little sleepy. I offered him some more coffee. I put the straw to his lips, but he didn’t respond, so I just put my hand on his head and told him … some sort of well-being wishes – can’t remember what. Laura and I talked for a bit, and then it was time to go. I gave his shoulder a hug, hissed his head, told him I love him and to take care, and left.
Ten past eight in the morning. Two homecare workers are here – both new – Stephanie & Jemmiemay (sp?). Not a lot of sleep last night. I was awake from one to five. At about 1:30 I heard a bump. He was trying to get to the bathroom. I helped him, changed his nappies, put him to bed again.
We went out to Tim’s for a to-go coffee. We got in the car, and I turned right to go to Tim’s. He pointed left without saying anything. So I turned the car around and went the other way, toward Rosedale. I asked him where we were going. “The coffee shop, next to the garage.” We drove by the garage. There’s only a garage. “Oh, I guess they’re gone.” Maybe there was one there years ago? Hard to say. I think he’s thinking about the gas station that used to be there. He’d drop by for a coffee and loiter for half an hour. That place is closed. We turned around. He pointed left, toward the pub. I told him I’m not going to a pub. Finally he agreed, and we went to Tim’s.
Father walked today. He used his walker for the first time. I had to show him how to use it. He held it out in front of him too far. The idea is to have it under you at all times so you can put all or some of your weight on the handles. He got it, and he walked to the living room, sat down on his chair, got up, walked to the kitchen, and sat on a kitchen chair, with my help of course. I didn’t offer much help aside from hauling him up to a standing position and hanging on to his coat in case he fell. He was pretty pleased with himself but needed reassurance that he was doing well. Self-doubt comes into play, you know. I told him, “Don’t sell yourself short. You did it despite the doctors saying you will never walk again.” He was pleased.
I can hear him now crawling on his hands and knees from the living room to his bedroom. I told the nurse yesterday that this is not him losing his dignity, crawling on the floor, but regaining it – he is the one in charge, independent, not in need of assistance. (Laura stated this before, too.)
Now at Chilliwack hospital with Aizlynn. She and I have been going back and forth from the hospital to various places. I picked her up from the King George SkyTrain station yesterday morning. It seems like a few days as so many things have happened since then.
I drove in to Rosedale Saturday evening and met Laura at Father’s house. Visiting hours were over at 8PM, so we went right away and saw him. I did not recognize him. He was thin, with thin white hair, thin hollow face, and withered body. It took a while to wake him up. His left eye was droopy and didn’t open well. It seemed he had a stroke. I’d learn later that he in fact didn’t have a stroke. It was in fact a tumour with swelling that was pushing against his brain.