Happy Mother's Day

What does your mum mean to you?

Mine is now 87 and she means the world to me.  Yes, she sometimes drives me up the wall - and I return the compliment!  It’s a generational thing and we wouldn’t be normal if we saw eye to eye all of the time.  I don’t always agree with my teen either - that’s life.

But for the main part, my mum is my rock and I am hers.  I’m there for her in the same way that I know she’s always there for me - that’s what a mother/daughter relationship is all about, isn’t it?

Very rarely is there a day that I don’t see her - since recovering from her broken pelvis she has become less independent and, I won’t deny, this can be tiring and limiting.  Even when I had flu a couple of weeks ago, I dragged myself (in my PJ’s!) to spend a couple of hours with her in the afternoon.  She craves company - I believe it keeps her young and without it she would have aged more quickly.

I owe it to her.  She looked after me, now it’s my turn.

She won’t be here forever and that saddens me.  I couldn’t have asked for a better mum and I don’t need Mother's Day to make me aware of that.

Celebrate your mum every day - you wouldn’t be here without her!

The NHS Journey Continues ...

I'm into my third week of dealing with the NHS and my mum's hospital stay - the good the bad and the ugly continue to exist and I face each new day wondering which challenges and problems will be thrown at us.

As I said in a previous post on the NHS, there are the shining stars within the caring profession - those who do everything with a smile on their face, go the extra mile and make every patient feel as though they have time for them.

I've seen nursing assistants feed patients with tenderness while painstakingly answering the same question over and over again but in a different way, I've seen physiotherapists taking on the role of nurse and calming an agitated patient with dementia purely with a hug and a few minutes of chat, and I've seen the Sister of the ward dealing with a problem swiftly and efficiently the minute it arose.

BUT ...

I've had a nurse with a heavy accent and speech impediment SCREAMING in my mum's bad ear, first thing in the morning, and telling her to put her hearing aids in.  My mum doesn't wear them and relies heavily on lip reading, a slow measured tone and face to face contact.  This was always going to go nowhere.

A nurse decided that, because my mum was of a certain age, she needed particular sanitary care which is totally unnecessary.  My mum was given no choice in the matter - she was stripped of her dignity and treated like all the other patients. She also asked, on seeing my mum walking gingerly, 'When exactly did you have this operation?' Erm ... perhaps try reading your notes on handover and you'd have seen that there hasn't been an operation and the bone is still healing.

A brain scan was booked for my mum and when I asked why (so that I could explain it to her) the nurse told me that she didn't know and it might be for the wrong patient!  When I asked her to find out, she huffed and puffed and didn't bother to do as I asked.  When I eventually managed to speak to the doctor, I was told so many things that didn't ring true that I eventually had to question that it was actually mum she was talking about.  Failed dementia test?  Had a fall in a physio session?  I'd been there for all of those things and been told that she'd passed with flying colours.  Surprise, surprise  ... within the hour I received an apology as the doctor (I use this term very loosely) had mixed my mother up with one of the ten patients she'd just taken on!  Unacceptable and so frightening - imagine if that information had been given to a patient with no next of kin or no one to discuss it with.

I've had a nurse decide to totally ignore my request for the toilet aid to be put in place in the loo.  She moved pretty quickly, with a tut, when I told her that I hoped that there wouldn't be any accidents.

My mum had a broken bed on the first night- it had a mind of its own and kept rising, falling and folding in the middle.  She was told that if she didn't stay there, the only option was to sleep on the loo all night.  It was eventually dealt with but, even if this passing comment was said as a joke to a hard of hearing patient who had been woken up with a fright in a strange place, it's not on.

My mum is of sound mind and yet she is in a ward where most have dementia. This is not good for her morale. She needs to be with other like-minded, elderly people to aid her recovery and her will to live - not sit in a silent ward surrounded by very sick people who she can't even chat to.  It's like waiting for death.

I've seen patients totally ignored - whether its been for toileting needs, comfort, a fall from bed or even pure hunger.  I've called nurses to help people back to bed and even fed them and delivered calming words just because no one else was around for them.

Physio is meant to be Monday to Friday - nothing happened today.  That's three days on the trot with no rehab.  Sparks may fly tomorrow.

I've witnessed nurses making patients more confused with silly untruths - telling them it's lunchtime at suppertime and vice versa and then laughing when they wonder why they are going to bed after lunch.  Not nice.

I've been told that there aren't enough pillows, wheelchairs or commodes purely because the nurse couldn't be bothered to move her bum and get one.  I now ask one of the 'goodies' and, surprise surprise, whatever I ask for materialises.

I guess you can tell I'm not happy. I don't want my mum there any longer than necessary and I'll be by her side for as much of it as I can or I'll steal her and take her home.

Watch this space ...

UPDATE!  A dementia patient kept the ward awake all night calling for a nurse.  The staff stood around talking and laughing, ignoring her.  Both my mum and another patient told me this this morning.  Today, the day staff were asking where she had got her new bruises from and they then took photographic evidence.  The lady was telling them that she shouldn't be treated that way and that at 84, she didn't want any more babies.  'I'd rather be dead than treated like this.'

Tonight the '12 year old doctor' visited her, after confusion and upset ALL day, and my sister heard the 'doctor' asking, 'Are you satisfied with your life?' and 'Can you manage your interests?'  Even we couldn't figure out what this meant!  This was to a lady who can't even feed herself.  Time to put the text books away, girlie, and focus on patients' real needs, speak her language and calm her down with whichever words she wants to hear.

On the plus side, I've made two new friends - nursing assistants who are helpful and smile.  That's all we want as patients and relatives.

Dear So and So ...

Another round of imaginary letters that I'd love to write but never will.  These are always such fun to do and are quite therapeutic as you get things off your chest.

Here goes:

Dear Employers of Young People
If you're offering an apprenticeship at a poxy £40 a week, please have the decency to send a one line email to tell your applicants if they haven't been successful.  That's all it takes and, frankly, it's rude not to.  Remember when you were starting out in your career?  It's a tougher world out there now and all these kids want is a chance or at least an acknowledgment.  Give them some hope that people are decent as they start out on life's journey.

Dear Old Age
You stink.  You rob people of their friends and siblings and then sneak in and continue to rob those left behind of their vibrancy and will to live.  Frankly, I want no part of you - I don't want to live a life of aching limbs and loneliness.

Dear Troll
I am so happy that you now appear to have a life.  Your daily comments were a bore and, with any luck, you are now taking literacy lessons to brush up on your spelling.  My 'ill-educated' scribblings earn me a living whereas your pointless rants get you nowhere.  Anonymity, when leaving comments on a blog, only shows you up for the sad loser you really are.
Dear Stalker
Sadly the above had to be crossed out and you needed to be upgraded to 'Stalker'. You haven't got a life at all, have you?  And there I was with such high hopes for you.   Try to enjoy your holiday in Thailand rather than focusing on me and my kitchen. Oh, and see my reply to you below.

Dear Mouse at the back of the radiator
I feel sorry for you trapped in there but what a bloody stupid place to go and hide!  There's a nice, humane trap waiting for you with a huge chunk of stinky cheese - if you just find your way out to that, I promise you I will set you free.  Your incessant scratching is driving me nuts and if you give birth in there I swear I'll call in the big guns.

Dear Brain
Thanks for putting me through the mill these last few weeks.  I don't think you realise that you are really only able to cope with one plot at a time - thank goodness you've finally settled on the right one.  Also, I'd appreciate it if, when it's bedtime, you shut down and go to sleep.  It's not the time to start telling me what should happen in Chapter Five or what the final line should be.

Dear Wandsworth Borough Council
 You are a bunch of a*ses and you will not beat me.  Do not put the wrong date on letters so that you can then tell me my mother is out of appeal time because I am on to you and you won't get away with it.  If my mother wants sheltered housing for the elderly, I'll fight you all the way and you will not pull the wool over my eyes.  Beware - I am like a dog with a bone if riled!

Dear Melon
Why?  Why would you do that to me?  I have always loved you and one minor slip-up with some parma ham has made me wonder if you will ever pass my lips again.  You made me suffer to the point where I Googled every symptom and discovered I could be dead within the week (!)  Lesson learnt: melon + parma ham = bad combination for me.
NB:  for those wondering why, the fat of the meat congeals and ferments the fruit.  Not nice.

Dear Hole in Roof
Well, you picked your moment didn't you?  Just as the heaviest rains of the year arrive was not ideal for us, really. We will beat you with buckets and towels and, if necessary, move ourselves one floor down.  Your gaping cavity will eventually be fixed and we will make sure it hurts - no anaesthetic for you.

Dear Agents and Publishers
I'm ready for you - where are you?  If you're looking for a hard working new writer with five books and a novella under her belt, and two new titles due out later this year, HERE I AM!  Go on, make me an offer I can't refuse!

All done and, I have to say, that's really set me up for the day.  Nothing like a good outburst to have you breathing a contented sigh, is there?  Go on.  Who would you like to write to and what would you say?

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