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Your " how's my lovely" quote tells it rather beautifully if l might respectfully say so. I fear you are so right about the hospital environment being devoid of that interaction by sheer nature of its function and the volume of work which simply denies the continuity of sensitive care and awareness you demonstrate so vividly. I do not blame the hospitals of course, but dementia ( l am presuming this will relate to your own situation) in that environment can be exacerbated significantly."How's my lovely" made her smile this evening.
I called the doctor this morning, they're going to put her on a rehydrating intramuscular drip tomorrow (she's not dehydrated yet, but will be soon). I managed to get her tablets into her this morning by crushing them in a couple of teaspoons of fruit puree, and she's had a few more mouthfuls of that plus some water during the day and evening. We've put her fentanyl patches back on as well, since it hurts when I move her.
It does feel like prolonging the inevitable, but what else can you do? The doctor asked if I wanted her to go to hospital, but there's nobody there to say "how's my lovely?" so, no.
Just a tip that may work for someone else, she'll take the fruit puree but often doesn't swallow it, but I find following it with a sip of water helps.
I remember this, it's so awful. There was nothing of dad but we couldn't lift him between the two of us. I hope you both get peace soon.That's not to say I'm not moving her at all, but generally just a slight prop on one side with a pillow, not a full 90 degrees. She's just so floppy that it takes a huge amount of effort to turn her even using a sheet.