I phoned the ward this morning before I started work – I didn't have the mental energy to go and see Father and also this affects my emotional state before I start work. The staff reported that Father had pulled out his cannula and had been shouting all night that he wanted to go home. I visited him at lunchtime and he seemed calm and was been fed his lunch by a very nice male NA. He firmly told me that if I didn't take him home in my car later, he would be going on the bus. 'How will you do that?' I said. 'With great difficulty' he replied.
I still havn't been able to find out exactly what happened to Father on Tuesday night. When
I finished work I was so tired, I went to have a power nap in the car
before visiting father. Still exhausted from the A&E stint on
Father was sobbing his heart out
uncontrollably when I arrived on the ward, because he wanted to go home.
My sister Lucy had visited earlier and she had helped him to get
clothes on with a nursing auxiliary as he wanted to go home. I got the
brunt of it when I arrived. It was awful to see, simply awful. He just
wouldn't stop crying. I explained Mother was too ill right now to have
him home anyway, but he just didn't take it in. I ended up crying with
him. Very nice staff on the ward and hugely supportive, especially one
NA who went specially to get father bread and marmalade which he likes,
as he wouldn't eat anything else. He got through half a box of tissues –
never seen him in this state. He did settle a bit later and managed to
eat the bread and marmalade. I helped to toilet him and then got him
into bed. He asked for the lights to be turned out. I tried in vain to
explain that the lights couldn't go out yet. He looked comfortable when I
I plodded through the hospital, too tired to
walk my normal speed. I fell on the sofa when I arrived home at 8.30pm.
Phone calls with Mother and Vivien. No tea, hungry but too exhausted to
cook anything. Wish there was someone to look after me right now, but
there isn't so tough.