Second Helpings

Another Unsatisfactory Ending

I received a phone call from the hospital yesterday morning to inform me they intend discharging my Dad on Monday and could we pick him up? Yes, it will lighten the load to have this latest hospital stay done and dusted, but I have to question what exactly has been achieved and supress my anger at the lack of care and planning.

Social Services have not visited my Dad, contacted me or carried out any examination of his property to check for safety. It has left me with twenty-four hours to set up a downstairs bedroom at his home with no one to advise or help. They do not ask or care if there is anyone to help me move heavy furniture or arrange for necessary electrical alterations. For all they know I could pick up my Dad and dump him in the reservoir or lock him in a cellar. In fact, how can they be sure he is my Dad? I might be a deranged mad axe murderer for all they know.

Apart from moving him around wards, bagging up his laundry, keeping various uneccessary charts of his blood pressure, pulse, temperature and bowel movements, I've seen little evidence of any action. There appears to be plenty of ever-changing staff on the wards who seem to have a lot of time on their hands to stand around corridors in groups discussing the price of carrots. Caring, sharing health service my arse.

Only one person has done anything practical in the last three weeks. The occupational therapist, a lovely Australian lady by the name of Cassandra arranged for the Red Cross Charity to deliver various aids to my Dad's home which hopefully will help him get around better and prevent so many falls. Yesterday I waited patiently at the ward nurse's station, while they all ignored me and carried on filling out their various files and ticking boxes. Eventually one of them managed to find the time to ask if she could help me.

'Yes,' I replied. 'I'd like to thank Cassandra for her help and input. Is she around?'

Her reply? 'Who's Cassandra?'

No wonder England trembles as someone once said. So here we go again. We'll be taking Dad back to his house tomorrow and I may start taking bets as to how long it will be before he has another fall and we're summoned out to call ambulances...visit hospitals...attempt to get some help...and probably fail. It's a great life if you don't weaken as someone else once said.