Do you have any government oversight body to whom you could express your dismay @Huia ? Despite its many shortcomings we have a national standards authority for aged care which has had a few successes in cleaning up substandard care.
Hi @Huia that does not sound good. In the UK I'd be on to the centre manager. His room shouldn't smell and he shouldn't be taken to activities he has no interest in. Hope you get something sorted to improve things for him.
Thank you all so much. The whole trip except the bus ride home along the stunning Kaikoura Coast was a bit of a nightmare
I hadn't even told K my youngest brother before I left Wellington, but I rang him this morning and asked him to check it out. K has a sense of smell that is very strong so he will be on to it quickly.
I am still going to talk to the local branch of Age Concern, I approached them once before when I was concerned about his catheter and the nurse told me that what I had observed was standard procedure. This relieved and prevented me making an unnecessary complaint.
I sincerely hope I die before I end up in care, I am putting a Do Not Resusitate (or however you spell it) message in my end-of-life instructions and am thinking of having it tattooed near my heart. I really does not help that he is in the place where our mother died either.
AP now resolving Not To Talk when visited by the sole visitor.
In all probability AP has no idea what is going on . Mercifully the home are onto it and now provide a carer who is known by AP and they facilitate some sort of triangular communication.
I had refilled the bird-feeder and when I came back inside Dad said "Do you know, there was a minute there, when you turned round from the feeder, and the sun caught you, I thought I was looking at my mother. You looked so like her, you could have been her! I hadn't noticed till then just how grey your hair is now. You've gone really grey."
Very "Dad" - teetering on the brink of poignancy, then the quick witticism.
Oh yes. My mother once told me to “Get a rinse” as she was not old enough to have a daughter with grey hairs. I replied that if she called it a rinse, she most certainly was!
My sister started going grey at the age of 19, so my parents ought to be used to it by now. On the other hand she has been dying it for so long we've almost forgotten what the original colour was.
I was so pleased when my hair started turning seriously gray/white. It is now such a more interesting color than my old mouse brown.
I remember my mom talking about how surprised she was when her MIL, my grandma, recommended she start using "rinse" on her prematurely graying hair. She wasn't offended, but she thought grandma would be of the generation that thought hair dying was "fast".
I remember a male friend remarking "I do so admire you" - I preened, and prepared to be complimented on my wit, beauty, fantastic knitting etc - "for going grey naturally" (I was in my 30s). Cue the regular use of (various) colourants.
Some decades later and I look like Cousin Itt. Whether it's age, or 6 months without a cut, my hair has gone fine and limp, and is no longer going grey, but has gone and very thoroughly so.
I will see what it looks like post cut (22nd! Yea!) and I may finally give up.
I gave up dyeing it when social distancing started, on the grounds that nobody can see the grey from a distance of 2m. Not sure how true this is, but can't be bothered to go back to dyeing. When I am an Old Woman, I may dye it purple.
My mother was horrified when she noticed gray in my hair and pushed every emotional button she could to force coloring. I was 35 . Normally I would have resisted that blackmail on general principles, but it’s a plain fact here that women who look older fare worse in the job market here—and this is my first ever semi secure job now, at the age of fifty mumble.
I went for several months during the first lockdown without colouring my hair, but I gave in shortly after moving into my own place - I'm just not quite ready to embrace the grey yet.
Once I get an appointment to get it cut, I'll probably colour it again, as the grey always shows up worse when it's shorter.
I am bowled over by the amazingness of the NHS.
Dad had a fall. Mum was terrified he might fall again and thought she would have to give up sleep so that she could be constantly on the alert. And so I moved here on Monday to stay a few days, not to do anything useful but just to be an extra person in the house.
It's been a busy week! The NHS has provided a riser toilet seat to go with the Zimmer and commode previously provided. A shower seat with handles is en route. They've advised about a pendant alarm and it was installed yesterday. At the moment Dad has an NHS nurse giving him a shower every second day, with him swiping himself with a wet cloth on the days between. It was his choice to only have a shower every second day, but now he's agreed that he can't manage himself so as of some time next week there will be a daily carer coming in every morning.
The level of care, compassion and professional skill is beyond praise. And all this in the middle of a pandemic!!!
Dad falling seemed to be the point which changed everything. He wasn't hurt, but it was the first time Mum had been helpless, as she couldn't lift him.
My mum having a fall from which Dad couldn't pick her up was the trigger he needed (admittedly she went straight into hospital, where she ended up staying).
Scotland is much better than England as far as I can understand where care at home is concerned. In most cases in England you have to pay for carers and it doesn't seem to be so well connected to the NHS either.
In Scotland there was a belief that spending on care at home prevented more expensive spending on hospital stays, and so it was actually a money saving measure.
AIUI, it didn't save as much as they hoped, but there is still a belief that spending less on home care would mean spending more on hospital and care home provision.
Eye tests are free here on the same principle; eye tests can pick up conditions such as diabetes at an early stage. It is regarded as cost effective to make them free in the same way that other screening tests are free.
My Dear Old Mum (may she rest in peace and rise in glory) never coloured her brown hair and went through years of what she described as "pepper and salt" before going a beautiful shade of white. I started life fair haired and have for years had woven highlights which are now growing out and a lot of people have said they can't see the difference (not sure how to take that - I've been spending £80+ to disguise grey that no one had noticed in the first place...?) so for now I'm embracing the grey and hoping for the best.
My mother always dyed her hair, but since moving into care two years ago it's gone grey. I did try and get her to my hairdressers for a colour shortly after she moved in, but she was beyond staying still for long enough to get it done. I think the grey looks good on her.
Why would you say that, @Sojourner ? I don't remember @Sarasa ever mentioning her mother's failing eyesight on this thread.
You're right though, Sarasa - the last time I sat with the Dowager for her hairdressing appointment - a simple shampoo and blow-dry - it was punctuated with plaintive cries of 'whose idea was this?' and 'what am I doing here?'
I was surprised you remembered @sojourner, but yes mum has very limited eyesight. It is one of the things that makes visiting tricky as I can't take in photos and magazines to look through as much just can't see well enough to make sense of them. Music works, so I probably ought to put loads on my phone and play a few old favourites next time.
My youngest brother loads all kinds of stuff on his phone when he visits our oldest brother. I am amazed at the breadth of topics he finds. As my phone is less capable I have to make do with magazines and books, but I hadn't though of music - so thanks for that Sarasa, he has a CD player we can use.
This morning Dad asked me to clean the pigeon poop out of the birdbath. I said that I would deadhead the camellias while I was in the garden, and he said "Don't blunt my good secateurs"
I came in twenty minutes later and Dad couldn't speak, and the right side of his face was drooping. So I dialled 999 and the ambulance arrived amazingly quickly.
He's in hospital overnight, but he has regained his speech!!! CT scan has confirmed a minor stroke but the prognosis is for a full recovery!!!
So once again, massive praise for the NHS.
We can't visit (Covid rules) but expect him home tomorrow or Saturday.
I desparately want to hear his voice again. I don't want his last words to me to have been "Don't blunt my good secateurs"
Dad developed breathing difficulties last night and was transferred to HDU with a suspected clot on his lungs. Amazingly he is on the mend again and about to be transferred back onto a ward.
Mum and I are coping, though neither of us got much sleep last night. My brother and sister-in-law were brilliant yesterday.
Weirdly I am coping better with the bad news than the good. I am cool and logical when we get bad news and shaky and tearful when it is good. Whereas Mum is the opposite, so we are mutually supportive.
And again I LOVE OUR NHS!!!
(The community nurse coordinator phoned our community nurse, T, yesterday on her day off because "she would want to know" and T phoned my Mum, to be supportive. On her day off.)
I guess as bad news goes, that's as good as it gets! Thankfully stroke care has improved massively recently.
I can understand why you feel like that. I suspect that my last words from Dad were saying goodbye and see you soon, as we were expecting him to come home, but the ones I actually remember are when he persuaded the lady with the tea trolley to make me one as I *never* said no to a cuppa. I hope very much that you get him home, but I'm prepared to bet that you'll never forget the secateurs. And I think he might rib you about it while he can, too.
And not being allowed to se him is also good news in its own weird way, as you would be allowed, I think, in a managed way, if they thought his last days had come.
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I hadn't even told K my youngest brother before I left Wellington, but I rang him this morning and asked him to check it out. K has a sense of smell that is very strong so he will be on to it quickly.
I am still going to talk to the local branch of Age Concern, I approached them once before when I was concerned about his catheter and the nurse told me that what I had observed was standard procedure. This relieved and prevented me making an unnecessary complaint.
I sincerely hope I die before I end up in care, I am putting a Do Not Resusitate (or however you spell it) message in my end-of-life instructions and am thinking of having it tattooed near my heart. I really does not help that he is in the place where our mother died either.
In all probability AP has no idea what is going on . Mercifully the home are onto it and now provide a carer who is known by AP and they facilitate some sort of triangular communication.
Sigh.
This is so hard for my sibling.
I had refilled the bird-feeder and when I came back inside Dad said "Do you know, there was a minute there, when you turned round from the feeder, and the sun caught you, I thought I was looking at my mother. You looked so like her, you could have been her! I hadn't noticed till then just how grey your hair is now. You've gone really grey."
Very "Dad" - teetering on the brink of poignancy, then the quick witticism.
I remember my mom talking about how surprised she was when her MIL, my grandma, recommended she start using "rinse" on her prematurely graying hair. She wasn't offended, but she thought grandma would be of the generation that thought hair dying was "fast".
Not at all.
Some decades later and I look like Cousin Itt. Whether it's age, or 6 months without a cut, my hair has gone fine and limp, and is no longer going grey, but has gone and very thoroughly so.
I will see what it looks like post cut (22nd! Yea!) and I may finally give up.
Once I get an appointment to get it cut, I'll probably colour it again, as the grey always shows up worse when it's shorter.
Dad had a fall. Mum was terrified he might fall again and thought she would have to give up sleep so that she could be constantly on the alert. And so I moved here on Monday to stay a few days, not to do anything useful but just to be an extra person in the house.
It's been a busy week! The NHS has provided a riser toilet seat to go with the Zimmer and commode previously provided. A shower seat with handles is en route. They've advised about a pendant alarm and it was installed yesterday. At the moment Dad has an NHS nurse giving him a shower every second day, with him swiping himself with a wet cloth on the days between. It was his choice to only have a shower every second day, but now he's agreed that he can't manage himself so as of some time next week there will be a daily carer coming in every morning.
The level of care, compassion and professional skill is beyond praise. And all this in the middle of a pandemic!!!
I
AIUI, it didn't save as much as they hoped, but there is still a belief that spending less on home care would mean spending more on hospital and care home provision.
My Dear Old Mum (may she rest in peace and rise in glory) never coloured her brown hair and went through years of what she described as "pepper and salt" before going a beautiful shade of white. I started life fair haired and have for years had woven highlights which are now growing out and a lot of people have said they can't see the difference (not sure how to take that - I've been spending £80+ to disguise grey that no one had noticed in the first place...?) so for now I'm embracing the grey and hoping for the best.
You're right though, Sarasa - the last time I sat with the Dowager for her hairdressing appointment - a simple shampoo and blow-dry - it was punctuated with plaintive cries of 'whose idea was this?' and 'what am I doing here?'
I came in twenty minutes later and Dad couldn't speak, and the right side of his face was drooping. So I dialled 999 and the ambulance arrived amazingly quickly.
He's in hospital overnight, but he has regained his speech!!! CT scan has confirmed a minor stroke but the prognosis is for a full recovery!!!
So once again, massive praise for the NHS.
We can't visit (Covid rules) but expect him home tomorrow or Saturday.
I desparately want to hear his voice again. I don't want his last words to me to have been "Don't blunt my good secateurs"
Good call to move in with them - and well timed. Praying for that predicted full recovery.
Mum and I are coping, though neither of us got much sleep last night. My brother and sister-in-law were brilliant yesterday.
Weirdly I am coping better with the bad news than the good. I am cool and logical when we get bad news and shaky and tearful when it is good. Whereas Mum is the opposite, so we are mutually supportive.
And again I LOVE OUR NHS!!!
(The community nurse coordinator phoned our community nurse, T, yesterday on her day off because "she would want to know" and T phoned my Mum, to be supportive. On her day off.)
I can understand why you feel like that. I suspect that my last words from Dad were saying goodbye and see you soon, as we were expecting him to come home, but the ones I actually remember are when he persuaded the lady with the tea trolley to make me one as I *never* said no to a cuppa. I hope very much that you get him home, but I'm prepared to bet that you'll never forget the secateurs. And I think he might rib you about it while he can, too.