Hello there... can I just let a few things out...I am going to sound bitter and twisted...
Firstly I went back to work today. Didn't sleep last night, as you will have seen if you noticed the wide awake thread! Work was lovely, all my colleagues were diamonds, very kind and thoughtful and gentle. The children were lovely too. One class said sorry and gasped when I told them. They thought I had broken my wrist! (Chinese whispers).
The day went downhill when I got a phone call from the nursing home's head office, which is about 5 miles from here. It was R, a girl who works in the office and does the paperwork. "Oh, hi Pied," she said. "How are you?" "Ok thanks," I said, automatically... then she said "I suppose so... in the circumstances...", and gave a little laugh, almost an embarrassed laugh. Then she said when was I intending to remove Mum's bed from the room, as they wanted it gone.
I bought the electric profiling bed for Mum when she moved to this home, it cost £650 and I bought it because I could not persuade the owners of the "nursing home" (the clue is in the name) to purchase this item for my sick mum who could not sit up unaided, and who lived in her bed 24/7. The PCT said the nursing home should buy it, the nursing home said the PCT should buy it. Result, I bought it.
When Mum died I told the staff I would donate the bed to the home in the hope that the next resident would enjoy using it. After all, the owners of the home won't get any pleasure from it. They are too busy driving round in their Mercedes.
Anyway, R said the owners were not prepared to take on the bed, as I "hadn't had it serviced and it was not kept in a good state of repair". They said I had signed a paper agreeing to service it at my own cost - I had never been asked to sign such a piece of paper. I had to remove the bed by tonight.
Bear in mind I was at work at this point. I frantically rang the local hospice and children's hospice and neither of them wanted the bed. In desperation I rang the people who sold me the bed. They were absolutely lovely. Even though they are a big company, one of the guys in the delivery department agreed to meet me at the home and dismantle the bed and put it in his van and take it home til I could get rid of it.
I was nearly in tears by this time when R phoned me back and said the directors of the home would be pleased to accept the bed as a gift from me and said twice "Thank you very much" to which I said "you're welcome" with gritted teeth.
I have therefore donated a £650 bed to a home where the owners drive round in £50 000 cars.
I find it so hard to believe that people who are in the "healthcare business" as the director's son told me when my mum was dying and was lying on a broken air mattress can be so unfeeling towards people who haven't done anyone any harm.
On top of this my second sadness tonight is that the vicar who is leading my mum's second funeral on Sunday is the person who visited my mum for a year while my mum was nursing a huge tumour which she told this vicar about, and which this vicar did nothing about. I am going to find it very hard on Sunday to greet this vicar and thank her for leading this service when she knew the state of health of my mum but did not alert her GP or her family. I know vicars act in confidence and all that and I guess maybe she felt she had no option but to keep Mum's confidence but I don't see why she couldn't have told Mum's GP even if she didn't tell us.
So anyway those are my moans. I know I have to "let go and move on" as Mr Pied has said today, and that's an end to it, but I thought if I just wrote it all down, I might find it a tiny bit easier to let go of it all.
Does it get any easier? I do feel very very flat, and low, and not my normal self. Nothing feels like it might be fun, or enjoyable. My daughter is about to leave primary school, and I ought to be enjoying her last couple of weeks, and I feel so guilty that I am down in the dumps when I should be laughing for her. She keeps giving me lovely big hugs. I need to get a grip!
And the last thing is... I don't want to go to this funeral on Sunday. More readings, more hymns, more prayers, more flowers. I've had enough of them. I just want to sit in my garden and watch the birds.
Told you I was going to sound bitter and twisted, didn't I?
(The only thing I keep thinking is, there have been more good and kind people in my life today than nasty and unkind people, and I have to hold on to that... but it doesn't feel easy to do that.)
Firstly I went back to work today. Didn't sleep last night, as you will have seen if you noticed the wide awake thread! Work was lovely, all my colleagues were diamonds, very kind and thoughtful and gentle. The children were lovely too. One class said sorry and gasped when I told them. They thought I had broken my wrist! (Chinese whispers).
The day went downhill when I got a phone call from the nursing home's head office, which is about 5 miles from here. It was R, a girl who works in the office and does the paperwork. "Oh, hi Pied," she said. "How are you?" "Ok thanks," I said, automatically... then she said "I suppose so... in the circumstances...", and gave a little laugh, almost an embarrassed laugh. Then she said when was I intending to remove Mum's bed from the room, as they wanted it gone.
I bought the electric profiling bed for Mum when she moved to this home, it cost £650 and I bought it because I could not persuade the owners of the "nursing home" (the clue is in the name) to purchase this item for my sick mum who could not sit up unaided, and who lived in her bed 24/7. The PCT said the nursing home should buy it, the nursing home said the PCT should buy it. Result, I bought it.
When Mum died I told the staff I would donate the bed to the home in the hope that the next resident would enjoy using it. After all, the owners of the home won't get any pleasure from it. They are too busy driving round in their Mercedes.
Anyway, R said the owners were not prepared to take on the bed, as I "hadn't had it serviced and it was not kept in a good state of repair". They said I had signed a paper agreeing to service it at my own cost - I had never been asked to sign such a piece of paper. I had to remove the bed by tonight.
Bear in mind I was at work at this point. I frantically rang the local hospice and children's hospice and neither of them wanted the bed. In desperation I rang the people who sold me the bed. They were absolutely lovely. Even though they are a big company, one of the guys in the delivery department agreed to meet me at the home and dismantle the bed and put it in his van and take it home til I could get rid of it.
I was nearly in tears by this time when R phoned me back and said the directors of the home would be pleased to accept the bed as a gift from me and said twice "Thank you very much" to which I said "you're welcome" with gritted teeth.
I have therefore donated a £650 bed to a home where the owners drive round in £50 000 cars.
I find it so hard to believe that people who are in the "healthcare business" as the director's son told me when my mum was dying and was lying on a broken air mattress can be so unfeeling towards people who haven't done anyone any harm.
On top of this my second sadness tonight is that the vicar who is leading my mum's second funeral on Sunday is the person who visited my mum for a year while my mum was nursing a huge tumour which she told this vicar about, and which this vicar did nothing about. I am going to find it very hard on Sunday to greet this vicar and thank her for leading this service when she knew the state of health of my mum but did not alert her GP or her family. I know vicars act in confidence and all that and I guess maybe she felt she had no option but to keep Mum's confidence but I don't see why she couldn't have told Mum's GP even if she didn't tell us.
So anyway those are my moans. I know I have to "let go and move on" as Mr Pied has said today, and that's an end to it, but I thought if I just wrote it all down, I might find it a tiny bit easier to let go of it all.
Does it get any easier? I do feel very very flat, and low, and not my normal self. Nothing feels like it might be fun, or enjoyable. My daughter is about to leave primary school, and I ought to be enjoying her last couple of weeks, and I feel so guilty that I am down in the dumps when I should be laughing for her. She keeps giving me lovely big hugs. I need to get a grip!
And the last thing is... I don't want to go to this funeral on Sunday. More readings, more hymns, more prayers, more flowers. I've had enough of them. I just want to sit in my garden and watch the birds.
Told you I was going to sound bitter and twisted, didn't I?
(The only thing I keep thinking is, there have been more good and kind people in my life today than nasty and unkind people, and I have to hold on to that... but it doesn't feel easy to do that.)
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