Further to my previous post, we now know there is going to be an inquest into my Dad's death as questions are being raised as to why he was transferred from one hospital to another as it would appear the care plan was totally different at the 2 hospitals.
It's funny what grief does to you, I read the stages of grief and this news flipped me straight into anger mode. I had questions already, this has just fuelled them and added more. I know nothing is going to bring my Dad back, and whilst I miss him that much it physically hurts I'm glad he is at peace now and not being messed with anymore.
I have to return to the hospital where he died tomorrow. I've even been avoiding driving near it, going a different route so I don't have to see it. But tomorrow it's not just the hospital, but the exact ward. I'm really not looking forward to it, but it's something I have to do.
I've no idea why but my Dad's consultant wants to see us. I don't see what he can tell me what I don't already know, he's dead and a post mortem is going to find out why. I don't want to get angry in there, but there's so many things they f****d up on its going to be hard. Why did I have to watch my Dad choke when a nurse repeatedly attempted to get him to swallow a tablet with water when he clearly couldn't, in what turned out to be 2 hours before his death? Why after that was he put through the agony of being changed, clothing, pad, bedsheets 15 mins after this when me and my Mum left him to get a coffee? Why wait til we'd gone to do that? Probably cos I'd have told them to leave him alone, he was peaceful! After it taking a few minutes for him to settle after nearly choking to his death
I never saw my Dad conscious after he was changed and he most certainly didn't get the dignified death he wanted. They didn't even bother to lie him or at least attempt to make him look comfortable. A nurse broke the news and we had to walk back into the 10 bed bay my Dad was in, the curtains were drawn round his bed. When I went to see him he was at a funny angle in the bed, too many pillows meant his head was flopped to the side jaw open, utterly lifeless. Why did I have to make my Dad comfortable at the start of his final rest? I dread to think what they've done to him since. I torture myself daily that what if they've got it wrong, he wasn't even dead, even though I know he is.
They also lost one of our now prized possessions. 77 or not my Dad had a teddy bear, William. William was by my Dad's side everyday he was in hospital. He spoke to this bear with such love, as if he knew his speech was impaired but it didn't matter William still listened. When they gave us my Dad's belongings he night he died, William wasn't there. So I need to go to get him back. But I so don't want to. Not alone, at least. I'm worrying now about affecting the inquest, and don't want to hear something I don't like. Or be blatantly lied to again which seems par for the course.
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