My dads back home from hospital. He was discharged yesterday. We drove down to the hospital in the evening to collect his medication and discharge summary. Dropped it of to him on the way back home. He was very chatty. Most complimentary about all of the hospital staff that looked after him. Noted that the majority of them were from abroad. The NHS (and other essential services) would grind to a halt without them. He told us stories about other patients on the ward. Sounded to me like he ranked pretty high among them.
He’d learned a bit more about COPD, oxygen levels, blood pressure (BP), and his medication. When he was admitted his BP was down to his boots, 70/40. Hypertensive medication needed to be reviewed. Despite regular and recent appointments with his GP (family doctor) the dose had not been altered since 2019. He sounded very chesty. A course of antibiotics had been prescribed.
This has been a scary episode for him. He was keen to reassure himself and us that he was over the worst and on the mend.
It was quite late when we arrived. About 10.20 pm. Mum was in bed sleeping. Dad said while he’d been in hospital she’d fallen over a couple of times in the lounge. Other than also now having a chest infection it was not clear why she might have fallen. I’m guessing the stress of this all and lack of sleep were the most likely factors. In no bad way, I think having Mum to worry about now helped Dad to not feel so vulnerable and needy himself.
I got a Signal message from her this morning -“Bloody disgusting”. This was with reference to the carry on involved with the arrangements for dads medication being prepared by the hospital and not being available to collect until after 8.00 pm. She sounded okay to me.
The page has turned. A new chapter has begun. For both of them, my siblings and me. Reality bites. I hope it goes easy on us all.