Coffee for the “getupandgo”, Chocolate for the “pampering”, or lemsip for the “This had better not be a cough developing at the back of my throat right now when I really need to be 100% non-infectious”.
Went to visit Dad yesterday. It was rather comical really, if it weren’t for all the lines etc coming out of his arms and the winces when the next shot of morphine was needed. His bed was so high that if I sat on a chair I disappeared from his line of view. If I moved the chair so he could see me, he’d try to talk and I was so far away that I couldn’t make out what he was saying through the oxygen mask. I’d stand up and lean my ear over to where he was talking and, before he’d finished his sentence, he’d fall alseep again in a morphine-induced doze from which he’d wake a few minutes later and try to remember the sentence he was in the middle of! It was good to spend some time with him, though – especially as the oxygen and morphine were combining to make his face look healthier and more relaxed than it has done in a long time. (I know it’s only on the surface, but it was reassuring none-the-less).
The chap in the next bed has considerable learning difficulties (at least, that’s what I reassure myself). He was so excited when I came in to visit Dad for the first time – he reached out and patted my paunch and declared very loudly “You’ve got a baby in there, haven’t you?” Hmmm.. I wish I had that excuse! Maybe I’d better get myself off back to the gym!
The nurse I’ve rung this morning was full of how well Dad was doing. They aim to get him up today… Dad, that is, not the nurse. I reiterated the desire for them to seek a convalescent home for him for a few days as they were talking of him coming home tomorrow. It’s a dilemma, really, as my sister doesn’t want him to go into a convalescent home unless he really wants to. She says she’ll come down tomorrow and care for him at home. I want him to go and have proper nursing care for a few days first and for her to come down later when I’m back at work. Lashings of guilt is the free gift that always comes with these situations. She wants him to come home because she feels guilty being so far away and not doing anything, I feel guilty because I want him to go and have nursing care and give me a few days’ respite. I don’t think home is the best place for him straight away – we can’t lift him, we can’t bully him into moving if he doesn’t want to or stop him from doing too much too soon, there’s cough/cold germs a-plenty hovering around, and the seizure on Saturday was rather scary and with things likely to deteriorate over the coming months, I am going to need all the respite I can get right now to build up my strength and spend some time with the boys. But the hospital have impressed upon him and me that it has to be his choice, what he wants. My wants don’t come into it, unless I impress upon him that I’m not willing to do the caring, (which isn’t true at all) and which will simply result in my sister coming down sooner – and leaving sooner and me still doing a lot of the care because I can’t sit here next door and ignore him.
I want him home, but I want him home in a condition where I feel able to care for him to the extent he needs and without neglecting my own needs and those of my children. AAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!
But my main need at the moment is to get this ironing mountain defeated and tidy my lounge before I go and pick up the children and head off to the hospital for afternoon visiting. Cup of coffee, hot chocolate or lemsip?