My dad - update in Juggling with Hedgehogs

Well, since the last entry, things escalated, and dad eventually decided he wanted to go into a home. Unfortunately, the one chosen wasn’t a home I had seen. It was one my cousin took him to, which is near her, and he went in there in an all-fired hurry. Three days after he went in, I was able to get up there to see him, and I was absolutely appalled by the place. He was not happy, and told me there and then that he wanted to come down to the south of England, where I live, to be nearer to me, and see me every day. I was overjoyed to hear this, and set about finding a suitable home for him near me. I got him a room at the best place there is, and a private ambulance to transport him the 300 miles. It was a difficult journey, but he coped quite well, and the ambulance men were amazing. They, however, had some issues regarding the home he left. The drug chart wasn’t properly filled in, the home hadn’t prepared him a lunch (for a 7 hour journey!) and there were some other problems relating to his incontinence, which I’ll go into later.

We got him safely to the new home, and the carers couldn’t have been kinder to him. He was cared for immediately, introduced to everyone, and just seemed relieved and happy to finally be settled somewhere nice. But the problems started immediately. He didn’t like the food, the food at the other place was way better (I eat the food at the home he’s in, and it’s absolutely fine), he didn’t like all the noise (his hearing aids pick up everything - I’ve got an appointment for him to sort that out), and not being able to see, he can’t find his way around. He can’t have conversations with anyone because he can’t hear them or see them, and on and on…

For the first few days, he just complained a lot, but he got up every day, had his three meals, sat outside in the garden with other residents, talked about gardening and other things, and played crosswords. I thought his constant complaining was just his personality (because that’s what he’s always done) and thought he would eventually settle and all would be fine.

He developed a liking for one of the carers, a chap called Chris, and I was even more hopeful that he would start to feel more settled. However, Chris was getting married, so just a few days after dad moved there, Chris took 3 weeks off. Dad went into a sharp decline, stopped eating, started staying in bed all day, became more confused in general, complained to me that no-one comes when he rings his bell (he doesn’t ring the bell, he just thinks he has) and so on.

I took the day off work on Tuesday to speak to his new GP, after he’d been seen by him. The GP asked me what I thought was wrong with dad, and I told him it feels like he’s just given up on living. The GP said ‘I didn’t want to say it, so I’m glad you did, but that’s also my view’. He’s putting my dad on antidepressants, but this won’t help in the short term. It takes several weeks for them to take effect, and even if they do, it won’t change his general attitude to everything and everyone. His experience in the first home was so bad he trusts no-one, including me sometimes.

One of the issues that was raised with me after he arrived in the new home was that his incontinence solution was a leg bag, attached to something called a conveen. It’s effectively a condom connected to a pipe and an ankle bag to collect his urine, with a tap on it for easy emptying. The conveen had been attached to his penis with tape, and it had caused a horrific open wound. The home photographed it for evidence, and now an investigation is happening into the first home. The police are involved, because this falls under ‘wilful neglect’. So there’s that.

He is healing up, and is now wearing pads instead of the leg bags, and complaining bitterly and constantly about it. He claims to be ‘sopping wet through’ all the time, when in fact he isn’t. I think there is some dementia setting in now, but my biggest concern is that he only weighs 6 stone 9 pounds, and is refusing to eat. Point blank refusing any food.

On top of all this, I’ve been sending daily updates to my cousin in the north, who used to take my dad shopping. She’s essentially my main contact within the family, so they can all be told how he’s doing. I haven’t sugar coated anything, I told her that he’s not accepting food and is generally in a very poor state both mentally and physically.

Last night she sent me a text telling me that everyone in the family had predicted this would happen and now it is. Well that’s bloody helpful isn’t it? She’s the one that contacted me to demand that I put dad in a home because he’d become a burden to everyone. She’s the one that took him to that TERRIBLE home where he wasn’t getting even basic personal care. But I’m in the wrong for bringing him down here where he’s away from everything he knows, all his family contacts, and his routines.

Well she can fuck right off. I discussed it with Hana and she went up the wall. My response to that text message is no response at all and no further updates. If she texts me to ask how dad is, I’ll respond ‘you’re so great at predicting things, you tell me!’. I’m beyond giving a shit about them now, I just want to get my dad happy, healthy, stronger, and socialising. Even one of those would be good. But I’m not going to kid myself. At his age, it’s pretty common for people to just give up entirely. It’s bloody heart-breaking.

Last updated June 23, 2016