That first night at the hospital was sheer hell. My beloved was in good spirits, and even though the head nurse had shaken her head and told us not too hope for too much in terms of recovery, we at least felt that we were going to get help.
The Hell Was ALL Mine
As my beloved settled down for the night, she enjoyed some pizza and fell right asleep. As night fell, with no coverings on the windows, the mosquitos started attacking me. I had no defense against them except swatting constantly when they sang in my ears.
There was no mattress on wood slats, I used my backpack as a pillow, and nothing to cover me so I stayed clothed. I blasted the stand fan on both of us all night to chase the mosquitos away, and tried to get some sleep.
I drifted off from sheer exhaustion, and woke to a sound. A stray cat, (this was a ward for an immune compromised person) was on the chair next to my beloveds bed, there was a piece or two of pizza remaining in the box. This feline intruder was happily having a munch, and it’s enthusiasm at this find had overflowed into meows of gratitude.
Shocked it was there, I chased it away in my groggy state of disbelief. But there was a plethora of wildlife, animal visitations throughout the whole time we were there. From frogs in the bathroom jumping on my back to surprise me when seated on the toilet, to rats in the garbage bin especially as she was near death. Even the janitors had stopped visiting.
The Nurses & Their Behavior Made No Sense
That first morning the nurse arrived, turning on the overhead light, and shoved the medication at me. Apparently the nurses didn’t administer medicine there. So they had to wake me up to give me the medicine to give to my beloved. Makes no sense, though when they got slack which was often, I knew when medicine was missing and would traipse the ten minutes to where their station was to retrieve the ones that were missing.
This became harder as her condition deteriorated and she didn’t want to take medicine, I had to become creative with how to get her to take her medicine, especially once the inevitable dementia took over.
It wasn’t just the medicine that I was chief of, it was everything. The nurses did virtually nothing.
I changed her when she vomited, and that became often. Changing sheets, washing clothes, spending time. All while to earn money to support us we were broke and everything was going towards her care, and supporting her son at the farm.
When Toileting Became a Contact Sport
Early on, it was obvious that she was unstable on her feet and at risk of falls. At first I would have her lean on me and escort her to the toilet, but it was a lot of steps, and she struggled, even I did. In a lightbulb moment I bought a commode chair and sat it next to her bed.
She was struggling with her sight, that I couldn’t get her to use it past a couple of times. She would stand at night and mistake the other chair in the room for the commode, and when I tried to guide her she would wee on me out of desperation. One night it was twice in a row in the middle of the night, I had to clean us both before sleeping again.
Exhausted I finally slept and woke to her falling flat on her face in front of the bed, hard, with a thud. She had resisted adult diapers up until this point, but it was time, for her own safety to restrict her to bed until she got stronger. Sadly it was a one way decline.
The Monsters Refused to Visit It Was My Punishment
The monsters monstered the whole time. They were not so lovingly known as The Liar (27 m), The Manipulator (26 m), The Terrorist (24 m) and The Thief (23 f) for very good reasons.
The only one that visited regularly was the one from the farm, The Manipulator, and I gave him money for fare. He was helpful sort of and brought a pillow, sheets, and a roll up mattress for me at the end of the first week.
BUT would only stay for maybe 30 minutes with her. I imagine it was hard to see her the way she was, it was hard for me so I imagine it was worse for her children. At least he tried, and tried with the other three that lived close by.
The oldest, The Liar, was the one that told me it was my punishment to looked after my beloved (I saw it as a privilege, she was so vulnerable), I had made her sick, maybe his finger pointing was a result of me not giving him money anymore. He was an adult, and the stealer of funds previously, and blamed me speaking to The Terrorist and making him cry the first night we were there for refusing to visit.
When I reminded him of how his brother was a professional victim, silence reigned and a quiet hanging up.
The Thief visited her mother twice. The first time she sat and refused to keep her mask on to protect her mother, it was near the end. The monster had a cold, but she complained it was uncomfortable not caring about my beloved condition.
She said out loud in her outside voice that she would want to die if she was as sick as her mother, she wouldn’t want to be a burden on her family. This summed up this selfish beast, and I wish for her that someone treats her in the way she behaved when her mother was at her most vulnerable.
The second time was when her mother was in a coma.
This was the most challenging time in my life, and will unravel it slowly, it has many moving parts. For now.
Peace oUt