Well, this week is going much differently than I had planned. Where to start? I feel like no matter where I start, it’ll be in the middle.
So, let’s go back a few weeks. Dad was becoming increasingly uncooperative at the nursing home – and I feel like it’s worse after I’ve been there. Maybe seeing me makes him more unhappy about not being at home? At any rate, the nursing home decided to send him to another senior psychiatric program, this time in Fayetteville. That’s a little far for me to travel plus there’s the drugs. So I did my communicating by phone. They told me that Dad was cooperative and pleasant and they changed his antidepressant and sent him back to Red Rose. He apparently did well on the trip back this time and the staff told me he was being cooperative and pleasant. The psychologist likes him.
But, when I saw him on Friday he was really confused. They moved him out on the open hall when he got back and he didn’t know where his room was. He told me that he’d had a good day, he fixed their computers (by replacing some diodes). He also said that Mom had been in the hospital for a week and a half and he didn’t know how she was doing. Oh, and that he has a girlfriend and is worried about what Mom will think. The psychologist told me how great he was to work with but that he had bopped a female resident on the head. She said that he knew it was wrong. Then the social worker told me that he had grabbed another resident on the arm in an aggressive manner that morning.
Okay, then after I got home, the nursing home called me and told me that Dad had been found wandering around in the parking lot in his wheelchair. At least he hadn’t rolled down the hill into the street or ditch. But he’s not safe on the open hall so they’ve moved him back onto the locked hall. Okay, but then Saturday they called and hoped that I could come because Dad was having a bit of a temper tantrum, banging on the door and insisting that he was in the wrong room. He’s been moved around a lot between hospitals and rooms at the nursing home and he’s really confused. And he’s getting worse.
But, I couldn’t go. Partly because of the Neurontin. And partly because I was getting sick. I just hoped to make it until Monday until I could either convince the doctor to give me antibiotics or go in to the office to get them. It’s bronchitis. I know bronchitis and I know when I’ve reached the point that I need antibiotics. I’m half way through a Z-pack and improving (even though I suspect it’s actually bronchial pneumonia). Give me a few more days to see how much I’ve improved and possibly I’ll have to go back and actually see the doctor. I’m much more upright today. I’ve been sleeping about an hour and being up for about an hour since Saturday and I actually got pretty decent sleep last night. Still breathless when I move however.
So, I’m keeping in touch with the nursing home by phone. And canceling my appointments for this week. And mostly I’m living in my pajamas again. Going to shower soon. Woo hoo. Go me.