Finally a place in a nursing home has been found for mum. My step-father decided not to wait for the hospital and social services to get back to him about a place, and instead he did his own research into finding a place for her. He started by asking the hospital for a list of nursing homes in the area and in return they gave him a shoddy list of a handful of homes, which did not even contain the full address or any contact details for any of them. A simple Google search returned some 8 pages of homes, all with their websites and contact details. A direct phone call to one of the first on his list was all that was needed to find a spare bed which also fits all of mum’s specialist nursing requirements. 5 minutes is all it took, plus a visit to the home on Friday to make sure it was of a good enough standard. We have waited 7 weeks for mum’s continuing care assessment to throw something up, and in the space of time it would take to eat a sandwich he found her somewhere. We now wait to find out when she can be moved.
Since my visit on Tuesday mum did manage to eat a very small amount of food. However, my visit on Saturday found her even more of a skeleton and her ability to swallow, poor as it was, was even worse and obviously took up a considerable amount of her energy to be able to perform. We sat and tried feeding her with much frustration. It doesn’t help when the hospital food is barely fit for human consumption. I really don’t think it is difficult to puree real fresh food rather than feed dysphagic patients an absolutely disgusting concoction of practically inedible sticky chick pea mush. Hell, I would rather die than eat that stuff. Maybe this is the decision mum is making!
On the phone tonight I discovered that she was unable to swallow at all today. The doctors have now decided that she be declared “nil by mouth” as of tomorrow. Our difficult decision about alternative non-oral feeding methods will have to be made unless that decision is made for us by the doctors. I hate the thought of an invasive procedure being carried out on mum for I am certain that it would be very distressing for her and would only serve to prolong her suffering from this terrible disease.
Mum is now a skeleton. I can hold her wrist between my thumb and forefinger, with room to spare. I have small fingers. I could almost do the same with her ankles. Her vertebrae and pelvis are sticking right out of her skin, and she has to now wear hip protectors to ensure she doesn’t break these bones when she falls (she had another fall on Friday night).
I find myself wishing I believed in God at the moment, because then if I did I could tell him how much I hated him.
