2022 and all that

I started this blog as a chronicle of the lockdown, but it’s now officially about our family’s experience of the disease too. A junior doctor called me yesterday about 5 pm to tell me that Mum’s last swab was positive and she is now on a covid ward (Hasland Ward) and needing a little more oxygen than before. The doctor says things could go either way in the next couple of days.

The news felt like being punched in the stomach because of the potential implications. My immediate concern is Dad, because Mum is in good hands. The doctor told me that Dad must self-isolate completely now.

Dad had already reported feeling so low yesterday that he hadn’t wanted to take Chloe out. After discussion with Jack and Leon, I decided to have Chloe to stay with me for a few days while we see if Dad develops any symptoms. It’s also sensible for me to stay away from him completely for now, even for the dog handovers.

Hopefully Dad will pick up soon and be able to look after Chloe himself. He seemed relieved to have one less thing to worry about, though he’ll miss the company.

On arrival at my place, I put Chloe straight in a bubble bath and soaped her down with shampoo to get rid of any unwelcome passengers. Amazingly enough, she really enjoyed it and so far seems to be treating her stay with me as a pamper break.

Chloe has the run of Mum and Dad’s house and sleeps in their bedroom. Even though Lottie is a strictly downstairs dog, I realised I’d have to waive the rules for Chloe. Now’s not the time to start training. Lottie took it quite well, even though she did give me a few “what the hell’s going on” looks.

We all had a quiet night, with Chloe slumbering peacefully on my bedroom floor. The weather’s foul today, to match the general mood.

Just spoken to Dad and he’s fine but disoriented by the situation. He’s becoming convinced that he had the virus a couple of weeks ago when he had a bad cough. Mum and Dad’s great friend Mary, an MD, suspects the same thing. As he said, he must have caught it by “foolishly” going to Sainsbury’s.

No word from the hospital, which is good news really. I’ll start phoning later when I’ve braved the drizzle with the dogs.

Last night I translated an Italian medical report about a patient in her 80s with multiple serious conditions who’d been hospitalised long term, just like Mum. She picked up covid and needed oxygen for a while, but was then weaned off and discharged to a rehabilitation ward. I took it as a good omen 🤞🤞🤞

I varied my walking route today because it’s raining and I wouldn’t have been able to sit on the bench outside Dethick church to write this.

I went up around Lea Gardens, which we used to know as the Rhododendron Gardens. They are perfect at the moment, but no one is around to see them. A rope has been put across the entrance but also a donation box, suggesting people can go in if they give a donation. Might email them to ask.

I phoned Mum’s ward and the receptionist couldn’t get hold of Mum’s nurse to give me an update or tell me if the covid-19 swab result had come back yet. She advised me to call this afternoon when the doctors have been round.

I spoke to Dad and he said he’s feeling down, but mentally rather than physically. The gloomier weather doesn’t help.

The village is going to have a Stay at Home street party for VE Day.

Pam Ayers has written an ode. Well, it was an open goal.

And finally, heard the CEO of Timpsons being interviewed on the radio about reopening their stores gradually. It wouldn’t have been appropriate to make a joke so everyone was studiously avoidingly the term “key workers”.

Back to the daily second-hand reporting on Mum. She’s essentially fine, barring the usual blood sugar requirements and need for oxygen, says today’s nurse, but they want to be 100% sure she’s covid-negative before the next course of action. So we are awaiting the swab results. Dad is fine. He doesn’t seem to have a cold now.

The weather has changed now. I actually had to scramble during happy hour with Dad and run home in a shower.

Last night I got a message from a long-lost friend, Rob Scott, from university days, who’s obviously bored during lockdown and chasing up old contacts. I joined his son’s live music session on FaceBook and then watched Van der Valk. Can’t decide whether Marc Warren is attractive or just creepy looking.

Rob’s a successful photographer now, but one of his claims to fame dates back to a photo he took of Jeremy Corbyn getting arrested at an anti-Apartheid rally in 1984. The anti-racist message on Rob’s original image was illegally doctored by a merchandiser to read “Jeremy Corbyn is a racist endeavour” and worn on a T-shirt by TV personality Rachel Riley to protest against Corbyn’s supposed anti-semitism. Annoying!

Just phoned the hospital and tracked Mum down in Pearson Ward at Chesterfield Royal Infirmary She’s on oxygen and going to be seen by the consultant this morning. She’s also had her third swab in 5 weeks for coronavirus. The last two were negative and she didn’t have any particular signs of Covid-19 when she was admitted (no temperature or cough) so fingers crossed.

No visitors are allowed at the hospital, but I found this #letteroflove service if anyone would like to send her a message. The information you’ll need is her ward, Pearson Ward and her date of birth, which is 12/12/1931. I wish I’d known about it before. https://www.chesterfieldroyal.nhs.uk/our-charity/letteroflove.

Finally managed to get through to speak to a staff nurse, who relayed a message that Mum was dozing, had eaten and was comfortable. I’ll phone again tomorrow for more news.

No news from the battle front this morning. The district nurse goes in first thing to deal with the insulin injection so now Mum and Dad will be getting up, hopefully having breakfast and getting settled for the day. Dad hasn’t phoned, so no immediate panic.

It would be good to have a day without an ambulance parked in the drive. Ironic really that today’s news headlines reported that the NHS are urging people to come to hospital with other conditions. Yesterday’s ambulance team actively deterred Mum’s readmission due to fear she’d be exposed to Covid-19.

Yesterday I got a call from the social services: we didn’t have to wait 28 days but a matter of hours. The coordinator said mum’s situation sounded “truly dire” and was clearly an unsafe discharge. We will get a daily living assessment from the SPA team as early as today. Once that’s been done and any adaptations have been decided, the social services will have a baseline for deciding on care.

Ominously, they said a risk assessment would have to be done to weigh the risk of people going into Mum and Dad’s home every day against their need for care. I sincerely hope the cavalry exist and will arrive soon. So far I’ve drawn a blank with private care providers.

I can’t help wondering what the ideal arrangement would be for Mum and Dad, or anyone in their situation. I would definitely have moved to Audley retirement village in Matlock. You buy your own property on site and can take a dog if you already have one. The monthly service charges are a bit steep but cover everything including utility bills, gardening, cleaning etc. There’s a pool, gym, bar and restaurant on site, plus classes and social activities. Hairdressers, and chiropodists are on hand. Most important, as you need more care, they have an excellent care team. Think I’ll book my place now!

Just had a call from the SPA team. They’re having a meeting now and will call me back now they’re aware that something more serious than a mobility assessment is warranted.

Stop press: Mum going back into hospital. She fell over getting up (not too badly but grazed her hand) so the district nurse took her oxygen levels and they were dangerously low (84%). She also has one quite swollen leg. A doctor came to make a home visit and they want her to have an x-ray/scan to rule out a blood clot on the lung or new chest infection.

The social services SPA person came just as the doctor was leaving, but she still had a look round and told me to call her as soon as Mum is discharged to get things moving with social services.