Later, after the nurse left, I noticed Dad's hands were dry and chapped. So I handed him a bar of beeswax hand lotion to moisten them. Faye said that was a no-no since the nurse was obligated to chart everything that touched the patient.
Eventually Faye went home to sleep and then go to work the next day. Dad seemed to be resting, so I settled down to sleep in a reclining chair. It was not that comfortable and there was a blue light in the ceiling overhead that shown directly down on my face. I had put my eyeshades on Dad so I partially covered my face with the blanket. The nurse had put inflating sleeves on his legs. The machine that alternately inflated each one, encouraging circulation, made a loud beep every 13 seconds. It was quite irritating. It kept me awake, and either the sound or the feel of tightness kept Dad awake. I could have worn earplugs, but I wanted to be able to respond to Dad.
Actually he fell asleep before I did. But people would come in during the night to take his vitals or take out the trash and turn on the lights. Sometimes they turned them off again, and sometimes I had to get up and do it. So our sleep, such as it was, was interrupted.
We were awakened at 4:30. I was groggy and Dad was out of it. For some reason they decided to change out his catheter. But he fought them and it didn't stay on so they threw it out. He said he was in a nightmare movie. He was confused and accused me of keeping him that way. I told him I was doing everything I could to prolong his life and he said he didn't want to live in that state of confusion. That made me cry since I often feel the same way.
A nurse came with his meds, including Synthroid. But he refused to take it since it was not his GP that prescribed it. She and I both tried to change his mind, but to no avail.
He had to go, so I brought him a urinal. But he wanted his hips raised and I did not know how to make the bed do that. He asked why I didn't make it happen. As the darkness receded, he asked for the catheter so he could void. I pressed the call button on the bed, and waited. Finally I pressed the one on the remote. A voice answered and I asked for a catheter. The voice promised to call the nurse. But no one came. Again, Dad wanted to know why I didn't make it happen. He also kept asking for pants because everyone else had pants on.
Finally the hospitalist came in. I am not familiar with that term, but he was an MD. I was trying to help my dad with the urinal, and finally the MD took over. He knew how to make the bed slant downward. Faye might have been there by then because MCV said they had enough people today and could spare her.
The diet people called to ask for our breakfast order. I asked for same as yesterday, but switched out the frosted flakes for cheerios. It arrived soon, but he wasn't ready to eat.
I don't remember everything in order, but it seems like not long after, we got a phone call for the lunch order and again, I asked for same as yesterday and they knew what that was. Or maybe Faye answered that time. The regular nurse tried putting on the condom catheter and it did not stay. She had to clean him up. She took his gown off and wiped him all over and covered him with a towel. There was screaming nearby and she left to handle it. Dad was very unhappy. He wanted to put pants on. Finally a catheter expert came by. She said they were using the wrong size. She got him fixed up and covered with a clean gown, resting on a fresh chuck.
Two ladies from PT came by to see how Dad was doing. Faye suggested he would do better if they put shoes on him. So they did. And he remained flat-footed on the floor when they stood him up, but he would not move his weight over his feet, so finally they sat him back on the bed. It was disappointing. But Faye must have noticed something because she insisted they give him another try, and with a walker. One lady popped out and came back with one. They stood him up and helped him walk over to the door and back. He wanted to do it all by himself and walked again, upset that they would not completely let go of him. And then, they all walked out into the hall. He walked down one hall and up the next, around the nurse's station and back to the room, much to everyone's astonishment. He claimed he was not tired, at least not physically. They sat him in a chair, and we pulled the breakfast tray over. They left and we watched Dad eat scrambled eggs with his right hand, which he did not use yesterday. He ate quickly and we wondered if lunch was coming before he finished breakfast. Faye went to tour the 5th floor, which is where rehab patients live short term to gain strength. The PT ladies had said he might be able to go home with only two weeks of rehab.
The case worker came by with forms to sign. One was for an evaluation for rehab on the fifth floor and the other was notification of Medicare rights. They were simple enough but Dad wanted Faye to read him each line over and over while he picked the words apart to be sure he wasn't signing his life away somehow. The case worker could not convince him that Medicare would pay for it, so she left while Faye and Dad poured over the document. I worried that this would slow down scheduling the eval, which was needed to get him on the schedule for rehab. Dad signed the first one and gave it to the case worker. He moved on to studying the second one, then insisted on a copy of the first one. So I tracked the case worker to her office and got her to copy it for him. Eventually he signed the other one and I delivered it to her personally. I explained that he was worried about missing something in the wording and being so very careful about what he signs. She asked if this was new and I said no. She seemed to think it was a bad sign.
Dad finished breakfast while I was gone and someone came to finish up some assessment that she had started earlier, testing muscle strength. Faye stayed with Dad and I went home.
I was really tired, but also hungry and it was after 1. I brought in the trash can and picked up the mail. I told Dad's GP what happened to Dad, and that he wanted a note saying it was ok to take the Synthroid. I made and ate breakfast and put on an audio and laid down.
But my phone would ring now and again. Faye texted that Dad took another walk, twice as long as the first one. The pastor called, thinking I was at the hospital. Then Faye called, but probably didn't know it since she did not speak to me but I heard her recite my phone number to someone.
I gave up. I washed and ate some grapes, going through the bunches and only finding a few still worth eating. I pulled a package of spinach from the freezer and cooked it. I read e-mail until it was ready, then ate it. I wrote up notes for my blog. I did some yoga stretches and brushed my teeth. I laid down again for a bit.
Sleep did not come, so I decided to sew. I pulled out the fabric I brought to make another bib. But it was wrinkled. I searched for an iron. When I did not find it, I texted Faye, and then William. But on a third search, I found it at the bottom of the hall closet. I ironed the fabric and left it to cool. Faye asked me to bring Depends so I found four and put them in my rolling suitcase. I called Chris. I talked to Faye. She said the eval went well and that they predicted 5 - 7 days of rehab would do it, but then he needed 24 hour care at home for the next week. Then I had to get ready to go to the hospital.
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