I'm sorry to say that I lost control in the care home today.
Not my usual visiting day but there was a singing for health hr this afternoon and I thought I'd show my face and sit with Nats. Got there in time to feed him his lunch just before the session began. He has been having trouble with his catheter not draining (that's another story) so I checked to make sure it was working. It was so full it was bulging. I quietly asked if it could be emptied, waited 10mins for 2 male carers to come and they arrived with his wheel chair.
I said I didn't want him moved and could they just bring the bottle in and empty it where he was sitting, to save him being man handled and screaming. A discussion ensued about him needing to move, which I didn't understand as on several occasions it has been emptied right there in the lounge with me at his side. At this point the administrator interfered and said well it shouldn't have been and that the staff needed to wear gloves and aprons.(not sure why they couldn't wear them at his chair) I said I would do it myself if they brought the bottle, or if they told me where it was I'd get it.
One of them started to go when the administrator butted in again and said "He needs to go to the bathroom" then repeated it "He needs to go to the bathroom" So they yank him up, he screams, they put him in his wheelchair and off they go.
Not sure at this point what came over me but I said to her (admin woman) I've got to get out of here as I'm well p*ss*d off. I've not moved that fast in years, but I was up and banging on the door to be let out. I encountered the manager and I went mental. I was livid, shaking, shouting and crying all at once, "He's my husband, I'm his wife, don't tell me I can't care for him." Admin woman said "it's called dignity in care."
I went like somebody deranged, shouting "Dignity, dignity, what F ing does he have left." I stormed out and immediately turned back and started banging on the door to get back in. I had clearly not finished.
The manager took me in a quiet room and sat with me whilst I ranted and raved about Nats' dignity. I wanted to know where his dignity is when I arrive and find him covered in food, hrs after his meal. Where his dignity is when I arrive and find him sitting in **** (and stinking to high heaven). Asked who the hell the admin woman thought she was giving out orders. And told the manager she out to train her in speaking to people properly. (I can't help smiling at that comment now, given the way I was communicating!)
I told her I wanted to take him home, get him away from them. Then sobbed like a baby because I know I can't cope with him full time at home. I told her her how difficult it is to relinquish a loved one into the care of others, but then to be told I can't do something for him, which I believe to be in his best interest is unbearable.
Nothing was resolved but I calmed down enough to drive home.
I keep switching between indignation at her audacity and weeping for the loss of my husband.
My daughter will go in tomorrow to visit her dad. She will apologize for my bad language and put her view over without losing her rag! She will explain that when we are there we find it far less distressing for Nats' bag to be emptied in situ, (It is only a tap at the bottom of his leg,) rather than have him disturbed. It is less distressing for us only because it is less distressing for him.
If you've managed to stay with me this far, thanks for doing so.
love Bastan. xxx
Not my usual visiting day but there was a singing for health hr this afternoon and I thought I'd show my face and sit with Nats. Got there in time to feed him his lunch just before the session began. He has been having trouble with his catheter not draining (that's another story) so I checked to make sure it was working. It was so full it was bulging. I quietly asked if it could be emptied, waited 10mins for 2 male carers to come and they arrived with his wheel chair.
I said I didn't want him moved and could they just bring the bottle in and empty it where he was sitting, to save him being man handled and screaming. A discussion ensued about him needing to move, which I didn't understand as on several occasions it has been emptied right there in the lounge with me at his side. At this point the administrator interfered and said well it shouldn't have been and that the staff needed to wear gloves and aprons.(not sure why they couldn't wear them at his chair) I said I would do it myself if they brought the bottle, or if they told me where it was I'd get it.
One of them started to go when the administrator butted in again and said "He needs to go to the bathroom" then repeated it "He needs to go to the bathroom" So they yank him up, he screams, they put him in his wheelchair and off they go.
Not sure at this point what came over me but I said to her (admin woman) I've got to get out of here as I'm well p*ss*d off. I've not moved that fast in years, but I was up and banging on the door to be let out. I encountered the manager and I went mental. I was livid, shaking, shouting and crying all at once, "He's my husband, I'm his wife, don't tell me I can't care for him." Admin woman said "it's called dignity in care."
I went like somebody deranged, shouting "Dignity, dignity, what F ing does he have left." I stormed out and immediately turned back and started banging on the door to get back in. I had clearly not finished.
The manager took me in a quiet room and sat with me whilst I ranted and raved about Nats' dignity. I wanted to know where his dignity is when I arrive and find him covered in food, hrs after his meal. Where his dignity is when I arrive and find him sitting in **** (and stinking to high heaven). Asked who the hell the admin woman thought she was giving out orders. And told the manager she out to train her in speaking to people properly. (I can't help smiling at that comment now, given the way I was communicating!)
I told her I wanted to take him home, get him away from them. Then sobbed like a baby because I know I can't cope with him full time at home. I told her her how difficult it is to relinquish a loved one into the care of others, but then to be told I can't do something for him, which I believe to be in his best interest is unbearable.
Nothing was resolved but I calmed down enough to drive home.
I keep switching between indignation at her audacity and weeping for the loss of my husband.
My daughter will go in tomorrow to visit her dad. She will apologize for my bad language and put her view over without losing her rag! She will explain that when we are there we find it far less distressing for Nats' bag to be emptied in situ, (It is only a tap at the bottom of his leg,) rather than have him disturbed. It is less distressing for us only because it is less distressing for him.
If you've managed to stay with me this far, thanks for doing so.
love Bastan. xxx