The Judas game
When Rosemarie was in hospital her disorientation and confusion were put down in part to delirium and we were convinced this was part of her problem. In one of the meetings prior to discharge the Consultant said that she thought Rosemarie had never had delirium and it was all part of the progress of the disease.
Now I am far from sure about this.
Whatever problems we are experiencing at the Care Home they have done a great job of stabilising her. She is eating and drinking much better than in hospital and is spending most of her waking hours sitting up. She has a regular, if boring, routine and (limited) interactions with people. This has had a positive effect. She is still startled and frightened easily but the constant wild look in her eyes is gone. They told us in the hospital that delirium could take many months to pass and I think that is what is now happening.
The communication and co-ordination problems remain but she seems to be more aware of what is happening. And that is the problem.
In the early days we promised her we would not put her in a home. She and her mother had managed to look after her father when he suffered from Alzheimer's right to the end. She was terrified of going into a home.
And that is where she now is.
We had explained the move from hospital as a transfer to a specialist facility and that was not entirely untrue. However, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck....
About three weeks ago she began to communicate fairly unambiguously that she knew where she was and hated me for breaking my promise. It is difficult to describe the communication process but a lot of it is tone of voice and gesture - very basic primordial functions that are largely intact.
It began with tears and painfully articulated "But I love you!". Dagger in my heart. How could I do this to someone who loved me? Then came the anger. " I HATE you. I would NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER...GO AWAY" and trying to punch me and claw at my face. Intermittent references to her mum and dad. Pointing to the other residents - "That one!" and turning accusing eyes on me.
I can rationalise it. She rarely sleeps through the night. She needs two people to change her, and dress her. I cannot provide that care even if I didn't need to work and the Local Authority will not fund that level of care at home. Unless I win the lottery that option is out of the question.
But I gave her my word. And I betrayed her.
The Psychiatrist warned against promising anything we couldn't deliver and at the moment I cannot see any circumstances under which she can come home so all I can suggest to her is that if she can get strong enough to transfer with one person's help from chair to wheelchair and from wheelchair to car I can take her out for a drive.
But she sits there all day looking at the damaged people around her and realising that she is going to be here for the rest of her life. She is 64 years old. And I put her there.
Judas indeed.
Now I am far from sure about this.
Whatever problems we are experiencing at the Care Home they have done a great job of stabilising her. She is eating and drinking much better than in hospital and is spending most of her waking hours sitting up. She has a regular, if boring, routine and (limited) interactions with people. This has had a positive effect. She is still startled and frightened easily but the constant wild look in her eyes is gone. They told us in the hospital that delirium could take many months to pass and I think that is what is now happening.
The communication and co-ordination problems remain but she seems to be more aware of what is happening. And that is the problem.
In the early days we promised her we would not put her in a home. She and her mother had managed to look after her father when he suffered from Alzheimer's right to the end. She was terrified of going into a home.
And that is where she now is.
We had explained the move from hospital as a transfer to a specialist facility and that was not entirely untrue. However, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck....
About three weeks ago she began to communicate fairly unambiguously that she knew where she was and hated me for breaking my promise. It is difficult to describe the communication process but a lot of it is tone of voice and gesture - very basic primordial functions that are largely intact.
It began with tears and painfully articulated "But I love you!". Dagger in my heart. How could I do this to someone who loved me? Then came the anger. " I HATE you. I would NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER...GO AWAY" and trying to punch me and claw at my face. Intermittent references to her mum and dad. Pointing to the other residents - "That one!" and turning accusing eyes on me.
I can rationalise it. She rarely sleeps through the night. She needs two people to change her, and dress her. I cannot provide that care even if I didn't need to work and the Local Authority will not fund that level of care at home. Unless I win the lottery that option is out of the question.
But I gave her my word. And I betrayed her.
The Psychiatrist warned against promising anything we couldn't deliver and at the moment I cannot see any circumstances under which she can come home so all I can suggest to her is that if she can get strong enough to transfer with one person's help from chair to wheelchair and from wheelchair to car I can take her out for a drive.
But she sits there all day looking at the damaged people around her and realising that she is going to be here for the rest of her life. She is 64 years old. And I put her there.
Judas indeed.
posted by Other Kosh at 9:23 am
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