Wednesday, March 6, 2019

All is Well, Because It Ended Well

I've switched from cat photos to photos of things I'm chopping in my kitchen. I hope you are not disappointed. I took this photo with the intention of using it for a very different kind of post, but I never got time to write it. Sometimes life gets tricky.

On Thursday I stood in my kitchen chopping chocolate, enjoying the quiet joy of working in the kitchen alone, thinking about the weekend ahead and the work that needed to be done to make it go smoothly and peacefully. It was our turn to host children's vespers, and I had lists made so that each thing would get done in turn, with the effort spread out from Thursday to Saturday. I smiled to myself with satisfaction. The weekend was going to be easy, thanks to my careful planning and the work I'd done in advance.



Best-laid plans and whatnot.

Earlier in the week, our neighbour's son had asked us to let people in to care for his mother while he was away on a business trip. She has dementia and struggles to open the door to people, so I said sure, no problem. We'd be around, and we were also planning on visiting her every day to make sure she was okay and cheer her up a bit anyway. Her son lives with her, but he travels for work a lot, and as her dementia has gotten worse, it has gotten more distressing for her when he goes. It felt like no big deal to commit to seeing her more often and coordinating our daily visits with the professionals that came for her care.

On Friday, she seemed quite unwell, so I notified her son, and a nurse visited and agreed that further action needed to be taken. I was told the GP would be in touch with me to let him in to examine her that evening, and then he would decide what course of action to take next. It was an extra visit to her house, which meant I needed to juggle errands a bit, but still, no big deal. Until the GP didn't show up.

I alerted her son, who left a message for her case manager. There was no response. What followed was 36 hours of her condition steadily worsening, with me as the only person who was there to attempt to assist her, while I was also dashing back to my house to prepare for and host children's vespers. It was unclear whether she was unwell enough to necessitate dialing 999 and sending her to the hospital. I wasn't comfortable making a medical decision for her, especially as she was expressing quite strongly that she did not want to go anywhere but to her bed.

What I remember about children's vespers is that everyone loved the barbecued pork, and I was very happy about this, because I had made the barbecue sauce myself but couldn't taste it because the stress of neighbor's situation was making my chronic heartburn flare up. Saturday, the day which was supposed to go off without a hitch thanks to my lists and planning ahead, was the worst day I'd had so far in 2019. I was in charge of a woman who likely had an infection in addition to her usual dementia struggles, and I had no idea how to get her the help she needed. I tucked her in as well as I could that night, then came home to my own bed and mostly did not sleep.

I got up on Sunday angry - that my neighbor had been let down, and that no one seemed to think it was important enough to follow up and get her the care she clearly needed. I ceased to care about the line I'd drawn to keep from invading her privacy too much, and I walked into her house determined to read every piece of medical paperwork I could find until I located a phone number to call to get help. If no one could help, then that would be my confirmation that dialing 999 was the right choice.

Providentially, a relative of hers who had seen her on Friday and knew she was unwell showed up shortly after I did. She took charge of the practicalities of clothes and bedding changes, and I started rifling through paperwork and dialing numbers that I found. Eventually, I was given the social care emergency number. The person I spoke to took my details and said someone would be in touch. I waited. Someone else called and said they'd see what they could do. I waited some more. I was promised help from a nurse. I waited for the nurse. At no point in time was I given a number to call if someone did not show up. If anything went awry, I would have to call the social care emergency line again and start the process over. I was caught between being responsible for someone's health and safety and having no real power to do much of anything about it.

Finally, I received a call that a nurse had been assigned to help with food and bathing Sunday night and Monday morning. Her care team would be back in the office on Monday morning, and her son promised to be on the phone with them first thing. From there it was all a blur of letting various people in, trying to get my neighbor to eat or drink something with nutritional value, texting her son, doing laundry, taking calls from various professionals who were back in the office, and getting supplies that were needed. The GP made a house call and diagnosed an infection, after which I was put in charge of making sure she took antibiotics. When pressed, the care team agreed to send a nurse to administer the medication and possibly help with clothing and bedding changes, but the nurse wasn't told what she had to do before she showed up. I was, in effect, the nurse's supervisor. Monday night, I tucked my neighbor in for one last night on her own and prayed that she would be okay until morning. She was. The nurse came again, meds went down the hatch, I could see that she was improving.

By the time her son came home yesterday afternoon, my neighbor was feeling well enough to be stand on her own and attempt to get dressed. The dire situation of the weekend was starting to fade. My work was done. I went home, feeling sick. There's nothing like extra stress to make one more susceptible to a virus. I laid down on my bed, exhausted and with a headache that seemed to encompass my whole body.

Today I have spent the day in bed. I had a cat job this evening, so I did that. There were a few things at home that couldn't be left undone, so I did those things. I've started to feel better. Rest helps, and so does peace of mind. I know that my neighbor is back in the hands of the people who can get her what she needs now and for the long term. I was there when she needed me, but I don't need to do anything else. I can go back to being her friend who visits twice a week to chat with her.

In the middle of the weekend, I felt angry. I wanted to blame someone for what happened, and I was upset to be thrown in the middle of it with few resources to get anything done. But looking back on it now, I see that I had what was necessary to help my neighbor. It wasn't ideal, and mistakes were indeed made, but we did okay. We survived! On the other side of this awful weekend, there is a sense of urgency for her care that didn't exist before, and ultimately, that is a good thing. I love my neighbor, and I am happy that she will get what she needs. I am happy, too, that I was there to give her what she needed when no one else was. It could have ended badly. It didn't. All is well.

No comments:

Post a Comment

I love comments, except the disrespectful ones and the spammy ones. In order to screen out the bad stuff and keep the good stuff, I approve each comment individually. Please be patient - your comment will appear as soon as I am able to approve it. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!