Mum’s spent her first night at home and is very poorly. She’s developed another chest infection and temperature. She’s not really eating and her sugar levels are heading skywards again with ketones beginning to appear, though so far just on the borderline of needing extra treatment. With her so ill, there’s a bitter irony to the continuing gorgeous weather.
It’s clear she now needs 24 hour professional nursing care. Before the latest decline, I spent yesterday fielding calls from rapid response nurses, district nurses and various hospital departments. All gave me different messages and none give a call-back number.
Now the district nurse has reported Mum’s condition to the GP and I’ve phoned the GP reception. The GP is going to call me and Dad shortly and we can decide on the next step. Will update later.
Just been chatting to the ambulance paramedics summoned by a 999 call from the GP, the district nurse, Mum and Dad with the GP chipping in on the phone. Everyone seemed very happy to take their time, chatting good natured and enjoying the sun, kitted out in gowns and masks.
The upshot is that Mum is competent and doesn’t want to go to hospital or into respite care. If she were to go to hospital, she’d have to go to the red (covid) entrance as she has a temperature. Mum doesn’t seem to have a cough at least, so it’s not clear what’s wrong. The GP phoned round and no one will take her into respite care anyway, given she has a temperature.
Back to square one! Dad is totally frazzled, but I left them both peacefully eating lunch in the conservatory. Mum gave most of hers to the dog.
I phoned Call Derbyshire, which is essentially the social services, and went through the long interview process in an attempt to get more help. We should get an assessment within 28 days. Hmmm.
Things do seem fractionally better than they did this morning, but still a huge burden on Dad and no real solution in sight.
2022 and all that 