At wits end

It's been a week since my last blog entry because of the events of the past week.

On Thursday, I made my usual trip to see Craig. I was surprised and encouraged when I arrived.
He was so lucid and friendly! Knew who I was, even commented on a news story on the tv. After being there for a while, he kind of laid back on the bed and started pulling his legs up into a kind of fetal position. I asked if his back hurt, and he said "Not anymore". After a couple of kisses and hugs,
he drifted off to sleep.

I was wakened at 2am to my son telling me I needed to take the phone call. It was the nurse from the nursing home telling me that Craig woke up and said he needed to use the toilet, and that they had put him on the toilet, only to have him yell loudly and start to seize. She said they had gotten him to the floor safely, but the seizure had lasted 3 minutes ( a long one), and that the doctor wanted to send him to the hospital. I quickly agreed. Why would you even have to ask?

In the morning, after laying awake most of the night, I called the nursing home, and they told me to call the ER.

After 3 hang ups, I finally asked for admissions and was told he was admitted, and they transferred the call to his room. Now forgive me if I seem like an idiot, but why would you send a call to a room with a sedated Alzheimer's patient?

I hang up and call back, asking for the nurses station. I ask the nurse why he was admitted, and she says I will have to ask the doctor. I ask if I can leave my cell number, and she reluctantly takes it down.

Now I do not know the name of the doctor who is seeing him, and wait for a call. I dress and go to work, hoping to avoid yet another day with no pay. I explain to my boss what has happened and bury myself in the work.

Several hours later, the hospital nurse calls to say that they are trying to schedule an EEG, and that if they can get it done today they will, but if they can't they will send him back to the nursing home.
Several more hours later, the hopital social worker calls to say he is scheduled for 1pm, and that theu will return him to the nursing home around 3pm. For the first time I am speaking to someone who actually gives me some information! I ask how long until the results are back and she says later that day, or Monday.

I wait to get a call saying Craig has arrived at the nursing home. Silly me!

I go to the nursing home on Sunday after I am sure he is rested and no longer sedated from his hospital trip. I stop at the nurses station, and ask how he is. After looking around at each other,
one of the CNA's says he was finally up today. That is ominous.

When I arrive in his room, his roommate is gone home, and Craig is sleeping. I wake him and tell him I brought coffee and pudding. He looks at me with dead eyes. I realize he has no idea who I am. After a lot of prompting, I get him to sit up. He stands and stares for a minute and heads for the door. I ask him where he is going and he says to the car. A blank stare follows as I tell him he has no car. he shuffles off out of the room several times, and I return him each time, finally getting him to focus on the coffee I brought.

Iplace it in his hand, and as I start to release the cup, realize he is not gripping it. My hand under the cup, we finally get it to his mouth, and he turns to leave again. Another redirect to the pudding cups. He tries to pick up the spoon, but cannot grip it, and starts to dip his fingers in the pudding. I retrieve paper towels from the bathroom, clean his fingers and place the spoon in his fingers. He stirs the pudding into an almost liquid, pulls the spoon out, and pudding runs all over him and the floor.

I start to wipe the floor, and realize he is falling back on the bed.I take the pudding cup and see that it has poured onto his stomach. More clean up.

By this time, he is starting to close his eyes again. I hold his hand and he grips back. I cover him with his blankets, his hands are cold. My eyes fill with tears as I look at this man who has been so strong willed and independent all his life reduced to this shell of his former self.

Then I see him looking at my face and his eyes start to water too. He closes his eyes and falls asleep. I have to leave before I start to blubber.

Monday first thing, I call the social worker at the nursing home.In a meeting, leave a message.
I want to talk to the doctor, need to know if the condition he is in is due to the seizure, the meds, or another advancement in his condition. I want to know what the EEG found.

I sit at my desk waiting for the phone to ring, afraid to use the restroom, afraid I'll miss the call.
At 4pm, I call again, and am told she has left for the day. I think she is avoiding me by leaving early.

How can people not understand the need to know what is happening? What if it was YOUR Husband/Wife/Mother/Father/Brother/ Sister/Son/Daughter? Wouldn't you lose your mind worrying? Wouldn't you be afraid the next call would be one you could do nothing about?

My Sister and Brother say I should report the entire bunch for the treatment ( or lack of) that we are receiving. I just want him to have a little care and dignity. Just because he can't complain doesn't mean he shouldn't get the same respect as anyone else.

We will see what happens tomorrow. Maybe that will be the day I finally get pissed off enough to call the ombudsperson.