Thursday 23rd October
As I write, I've just woken up after collapsing on the sofa. My Father refused to have breakfast this morning as he wanted a shave first. He wasn't understanding that he was not at home and not every patient can be washed before breakfast. He looked very sleepy still. A staff nurse gave him a yoghurt mid morning and I gave him a mashed banana in my teabreak at 11am. After this time he became incredibly drowsy and was in a deep sleep for the rest of the day. I even couldn't wake him for lunch which was worrying as travelling later on, with an almost empty stomach is not ideal. He had been shouting all night apparently. It took four of us to stern him into the wheelchair for the paramedics/ambulance crew to take him home. On hindsight now, he should have stayed in hospital longer, but doctors were happy for him to be discharged.
I arrived at my parent's house before the ambulance arrived. The rest of the evening was traumatic to say the least. The ambulance arrived and Father had been sick on route – his clothes and him were in a real state because of this. He looked pale and exhausted and wasn't speaking. The crew got him into the house and helped us to change him and sit him in his armchair.
Father didn't speak or respond to us at all. I accepted that he had been through a hell time over the last week and the travelling today etc had completely finished him off. I thought we were going to lose him and I became very upset and just sat hugging him. BUT it was when he became increasingly cold – forehead cool and slightly clammy, that I phoned the Community Matron – no reply and phone switched off. I just got through to Burnham Market Surgery before they closed at 6.30pm and spoke to a very nice lady doctor, who an hour later came out to see Father. She concluded that it was down to the sickness and trauma of coming home etc. His temperature was 36.2 and she listened to his chest which seemed fine. I don't know how she did, but managed to wake him enough to get a grumpy response and him becoming very cross. Mother and I were pleased that he responded, even though it wasn't a happy response! The doctor left and I felt happier. Lucy phoned a couple of times to see how Father was, which was sweet of her.
A member of staff from Norfolk First Support came out to assist us to get Father to bed, but he dug his heels in deep. He absolutely refused, it was impossible, draining and very frustrating. We lied about the time (it was 8.30pm) and told him it was 10pm and that he and us, all needed to go to bed. Long story short, I managed to get his important tablet swallowed with half a glass of water also drank. Eventually an hour later he agreed to get into bed, but refused to take his clothes off and change into pyjamas. He also at the transfer point became very aggressive towards the NFS lady and myself, only allowing Mother to get him into bed. I took over at one point as Mother was struggling to get him far enough over on the bed and let's just say I was responded to physically! I left their house at 9.45pm exhausted and had a job to get home to be honest. An exhausting week both physically and mentally. Wish their was someone to look after me through all of this, but there isn't, so as they say 'the show must go on'!!! Good night or should I say good morning!