Short version of today’s news: Mum was discharged and the district nurses sent her straight back to hospital as they judged the situation unsafe. Dad’s just phoned to say that the hospital are sending her back home again. Stop press: the hospital diabetes nurse has just phoned me to try and sort out the best way forward, which seems to be to find someone capable of doing Mum’s lunchtime blood test and insulin injection in the long term.
The hospital discharged Mum on a wing and a prayer yesterday. She had a very complicated and detailed care plan with nurses visiting twice daily and Dad and me supervising a lunchtime blood test and injection. A nighttime blood test also had to be taken.
I spent a sleepless night doing my own risk assessment before Mum arrived. I’m on the list of people who are very vulnerable to Covid-19 because I’m immunosuppressed due to my arthritis. I’ve been helping Dad but distancing from him (especially given his cough). I made the painful decision that I can’t go within 6 feet of Mum either, at least until she’s been out of hospital for a week or so. I tried to discuss this with Dad and the need to isolate Mum for a while on discharge from hospital, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t grasp the idea and had immediate contact with her.
On arrival, Mum promptly went to sleep in her hospital pyjamas and seemed well but pale, tired and a bit disoriented, as you would after a month in hospital.
Mum was accompanied by a dauntingly enormous bag of medications, complete with new blood test meter, which remained unopened, even though she’d supposedly been taught to use it in hospital. Of course Dad and me didn’t have a clue what to do with it either but we’ll be able to get to grips with it I’m sure.
I hovered by the door and we were immediately out of our depth, when Mum was roused and couldn’t manage to take a blood test (using her old meter), even with Dad’s help, and refused to eat lunch. Dad gave her an insulin dose anyway, against all the rules. No one could communicate because of deafness. Mum closed her eyes beatifically and said the nurses would sort everything out when they arrived.
The district nurses weren’t the stereotypical motherly figures I was half-expecting but very young, bright and totally on the ball. They immediately pronounced the situation unsafe until they could control it totally themselves, especially considering that I won’t be here for ever and will eventually go home to Cardiff.
The nurses, Holly and Jack, would prefer to get Mum on a twice a day insulin regime that they can manage themselves with twice daily visits without any possibility of failure. The hospital have already said that this is impossible because Mum’s insulin levels are so sensitive. The nurses judged the plan excellent but unworkable at home.
It was heart-wrenching to see Mum getting back in the ambulance yesterday but now it looks as though she’ll be back later today after all. At least the hospital, the district nurses and me have plainly stated our positions, so hopefully we can find a safe solution for Mum.
A lot of wrangling has been going on and misinformation has been exchanged with the hospital. One nurse told Dad I could wear mask and gown, despite the fact we haven’t got any masks and gowns and in any case they are single-use so we’d need loads! I’m also beginning to wonder whether the info we’ve been given by the hospital about agency nurses not working through the crisis is correct either, so am doing my own research and waiting callbacks.
Not much other news, but I did see the village peacock sauntering down the road yesterday evening.
2022 and all that 