Blissfull…

Mum fell out of bed last night. She’d shuffled down to the end of the bed, beyond the side bars and thrown herself out. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to have done any more damage than the already fractured pelvis, which turns out not to be the first fracture. She appears to have old fractures that we weren’t aware of. Short of wrapping her tiny frame in cotton wool and tying her to the bed I’m not sure what else we can do to keep her safe.

My Dad came in for the morning shift and there was medication sitting on the table. It appeared unclear as to where it went so he asked to speak to the doctor as the nurse wasn’t sure. Three times. When I arrived, no-one had clarified whether Mum had, in fact, had any medication at all. I popped my head out and asked the nurse for Mum’s chart as it doesn’t seem to be at the end of her bed. The nurse told me it was all done online now and it was confidential and she couldn’t give it to me. Then she asked who I was. I said that I’m her daughter and I was concerned that she’d had none of her medication since she arrived. Three days ago. I politely but firmly suggested that she find a doctor to speak to us. One duly arrived within ten minutes but I’m not sure why my Dad having asked three times didn’t have the same result. Unsurprisingly, it appears that I’m scarier than him.

After two visits from the doctor, the first one provided no straight answer to a yes / no question, the second visit was more forthcoming and the answer is no. She hasn’t received her medication, despite my Dad having brought it from home with a clear note as to when / how much she takes.

I’m currently looking at the tube of ibuprofen gel that was prescribed three days ago for the right hip, to be applied three times a day and it’s barely been squeezed. I’m trying very hard to remember that the state of the NHS is not the fault of the nurses but equally the absolute lack of attention to detail is making my blood boil. My Mum is 82 years old and has a fractured pelvis and she’s being given a paracetamol twice a day, the lack of her usual meds must not be doing her any favours and I’m sitting here utterly helpless being unable even to help her get into bed. I want to ask the nurses whether, if that were their Mum, would they be happy with the level of care?

When the lady came round to collect her dinner tray she said that Mum had refused breakfast and said she didn’t want anything. If one applied some common sense whilst asking a dementia patient if she was hungry and knowing she weighs 42kg and hadn’t eaten anything for 12 hours…

Dad left to get home before it was dark and I’m sitting here trying to hold it together. I want to put her in a wheelchair and take her home. If I didn’t think I’d break her more, I absolutely would discharge her now. She has to be better off at home, in her own bed with the people who love her who are happy to rub in pain relief gel, give her medication and make sure she’s alright.

Just another old person. I dread to imagine the patients who don’t have a partner or children to intervene and I’m trying not to consider the prospect of having neither in my later years.