My mom has not rallied well after her hospitalization (for infection and dehydration and the ill effects of a fall) a few weeks ago. She went back to her GP this past Wednesday; the GP noticed she had lost weight and seemed *much* more confused than the last time he had seen her. They did blood work while she was there, and a day later we found out her sodium was way high, indicating dehydration.
So Thursday she got shipped back to the hospital, where they got her on an IV and got her rehydrated again. At this point the outlook is dubious, however. The hospital doctor talked to both me and my husband (in separate phone calls) yesterday, and said if she starts eating and drinking reasonably well, then she'll be OK, but if not then we'll be faced with the choice between putting her on a feeding tube and getting her in hospice care with the understanding she will probably not last too long. My parents have always been clear that they would not want to be kept alive just for the sake of being kept alive if they were in bad shape; we would not put her on a feeding tube; the hospital doctor, Mom's GP, and the staff at her Alzheimer's home all seemed to think that was a good decision.
We haven't given up hope. They've reduced some of her medications (she was on a strong narcotic for pain relief, but seemed reasonably comforable in the hospital with less) which may help her alertness and appetite. And we've arranged for a one-on-one care giver, whose main job will be to encourage her to eat and drink, in the hopes we can get her back on track in the next few days.
This afternoon they discharged her from the hospital. We visited her earlier in the day, at the hospital. That was pretty sad. She was asleep and did not wake up while we were there, even though I stroked and patted her and we talked to and around her. (I understand she was awake and talking earlier and later in the day, however.) She at least seemed comfortable, but it was sad for me to think "This may be the best shape I'll see her in."
Then we went to visit my dad (at a nursing home, not the Alzheimer's home where Mom lives), and gave him the bad news. Now I'm kind of bouncing emotionally between dealing with my own feelings of impending loss, and trying to figure out how to help my dad deal with his.
Karen
So Thursday she got shipped back to the hospital, where they got her on an IV and got her rehydrated again. At this point the outlook is dubious, however. The hospital doctor talked to both me and my husband (in separate phone calls) yesterday, and said if she starts eating and drinking reasonably well, then she'll be OK, but if not then we'll be faced with the choice between putting her on a feeding tube and getting her in hospice care with the understanding she will probably not last too long. My parents have always been clear that they would not want to be kept alive just for the sake of being kept alive if they were in bad shape; we would not put her on a feeding tube; the hospital doctor, Mom's GP, and the staff at her Alzheimer's home all seemed to think that was a good decision.
We haven't given up hope. They've reduced some of her medications (she was on a strong narcotic for pain relief, but seemed reasonably comforable in the hospital with less) which may help her alertness and appetite. And we've arranged for a one-on-one care giver, whose main job will be to encourage her to eat and drink, in the hopes we can get her back on track in the next few days.
This afternoon they discharged her from the hospital. We visited her earlier in the day, at the hospital. That was pretty sad. She was asleep and did not wake up while we were there, even though I stroked and patted her and we talked to and around her. (I understand she was awake and talking earlier and later in the day, however.) She at least seemed comfortable, but it was sad for me to think "This may be the best shape I'll see her in."
Then we went to visit my dad (at a nursing home, not the Alzheimer's home where Mom lives), and gave him the bad news. Now I'm kind of bouncing emotionally between dealing with my own feelings of impending loss, and trying to figure out how to help my dad deal with his.
Karen