Peter finally moved from the assessment unit to an EMI nursing home last week. I haven’t posted about it before now as I really didn’t know how I felt about it and certainly couldn’t put it into words.
His transfer was a total shambles. The SW arranged the move with the hospital, but then somehow forgot to actually mention it to either myself or the home! First I knew was a phone call from hospital asking me to come over as Peter was so upset. Why was he upset, I asked. Answer – worried about his packing. What packing? Answer – for his move. What move? Answer – he’s moving today. That was the start of a dreadful day for me.
I went over and packed for him, lying through my teeth the whole time. Yes, it’s fine. Yes, it’s only for a short while. Yes, the doctor says you have to go. You’re going by ambulance, that’ll be fun won’t it? Inside I was feeling sick and trying so hard not to break down in front of him.
Drove over separately and met him there. Suddenly, the other residents seemed much older and much sicker than the previous week. But the staff were lovely – every single one of them from the manager downwards. I remembered so many of you saying that the staff are the MOST important part of a home and I took comfort from that.
Peter was very agitated for a couple of days but settled after that surprisingly quickly. The home has a lot of space for him to walk around and a huge main lounge with a glass roof which makes it feel very open. Important points for him, but what has made the move easier is the fantastic help and support from the manager/owner. He is in his mid 40s and loves cars. When I first met him and told him about Peter’s love of cars he promised to take him out for a drive. I thought it would be a one off but no, he takes him out 2 or 3 times a day. Anywhere he goes that is suitable for Peter to accompany him, he takes him along. It makes such a difference to me knowing he is getting out and I don’t have to spend every visit driving him aimlessly around to pass the time. The man is a saint!!
As I write this I know it sounds great, so why do I feel so down? The first night he moved there was the lowest I have felt since his diagnosis. Hospital didn’t seem permanent somehow – there was always that tiny idea that he would come home again. But moving to a home just confirms the stark reality that he is extremely unlikely to ever come home again and marks the end of our life living together. Some people have commented about how good it must be to have him settled – almost like my problems are over now and time to get on with life. The reality is so far from that. I don’t want to move on and they don’t understand – but I know you will understand.
Mary-Ann
x
His transfer was a total shambles. The SW arranged the move with the hospital, but then somehow forgot to actually mention it to either myself or the home! First I knew was a phone call from hospital asking me to come over as Peter was so upset. Why was he upset, I asked. Answer – worried about his packing. What packing? Answer – for his move. What move? Answer – he’s moving today. That was the start of a dreadful day for me.
I went over and packed for him, lying through my teeth the whole time. Yes, it’s fine. Yes, it’s only for a short while. Yes, the doctor says you have to go. You’re going by ambulance, that’ll be fun won’t it? Inside I was feeling sick and trying so hard not to break down in front of him.
Drove over separately and met him there. Suddenly, the other residents seemed much older and much sicker than the previous week. But the staff were lovely – every single one of them from the manager downwards. I remembered so many of you saying that the staff are the MOST important part of a home and I took comfort from that.
Peter was very agitated for a couple of days but settled after that surprisingly quickly. The home has a lot of space for him to walk around and a huge main lounge with a glass roof which makes it feel very open. Important points for him, but what has made the move easier is the fantastic help and support from the manager/owner. He is in his mid 40s and loves cars. When I first met him and told him about Peter’s love of cars he promised to take him out for a drive. I thought it would be a one off but no, he takes him out 2 or 3 times a day. Anywhere he goes that is suitable for Peter to accompany him, he takes him along. It makes such a difference to me knowing he is getting out and I don’t have to spend every visit driving him aimlessly around to pass the time. The man is a saint!!
As I write this I know it sounds great, so why do I feel so down? The first night he moved there was the lowest I have felt since his diagnosis. Hospital didn’t seem permanent somehow – there was always that tiny idea that he would come home again. But moving to a home just confirms the stark reality that he is extremely unlikely to ever come home again and marks the end of our life living together. Some people have commented about how good it must be to have him settled – almost like my problems are over now and time to get on with life. The reality is so far from that. I don’t want to move on and they don’t understand – but I know you will understand.
Mary-Ann
x
