Twenty-Four Hours Of Hell
There are times when all the previous experience of taking care of a loved one with memory loss simply is of no value whatsoever. The past 24 hours of Hubby’s life is “proof of the pudding.” (I really must look up that saying to find out where it came from – it sounds Elizabethan, but forgive me please, I digress.)
One of Hubby’s teeth fell out. He had been complaining about it, and of course I paid no attention – until it was handed to me like a precious gift. The next morning, I arranged an emergency appointment with our dentist who pulled out the three roots of Hubby’s tooth as there was no way to save it. Fortunately, it was in the very back of his mouth and the dentist advised that he can do without it. I was handed a typewritten after-care direction sheet. First and foremost, he was to bite down on gauze until the bleeding subsided.
It was impossible to explain to Hubby that he was not allowed to chew the gauze. After all, anything in the mouth is there to be consumed, is it not? The gauze filled up with blood as his chewing irritated the open wound and made it bleed even more. He was chewing quite studiously in spite of repeated requests not to do so. I was really afraid that he would forget that the blood-soaked gauze was not edible, and would decide to swallow it. I removed the gauze. Hence, my guidance as primary caregiver proved to be a total failure.
This morning was to be a special day. Hubby’s birthday party at Melabev, (his day-care center for the elderly with cognitive decline), had been planned for quite a while. Although I had made a lavish 94th birthday party, in our home, for him last year, I did not feel that I could do it again this year, so a smaller party for his club-mates would be just fine. A special cake was ordered by Violet as his birthday gift, one with an edible photograph of Hubby adorning it!
Hubby arose from the breakfast table with Violet’s help and was walking to the bathroom when one of his legs crossed the other, and he went flying head first into a closed metal ladder off to the side of the pathway. Violet could not stop the fall, although her body cushioned it – after the damage was already done. He had a massive cut on his forehead, with blood everywhere… lots of blood. We calmed him before helping him to get onto a chair nearby.
Fortunately, Dr. S. had encouraged me to consider stopping Hubby’s blood thinners which were originally intended to avert another heart attack. The decision was a complicated one. When a patient with dementia (or someone without it) has multiple falls (for whatever reason), the chance of their falling on their face or head is substantial. With blood thinners, the chance of an internal cranial bleed is increased exponentially. That can lead to a stroke and paralysis. Together the private doctor and I made the decision to stop the blood thinners. It is a very good thing that we did, or Hubby might not be with us now. He did not black out, he did not have a concussion, but he had cuts and bruises galore.
An emergency appointment was made with Dr. N. our family doctor at noon today. We were told 45 minutes before noon that we must arrive then or Hubby could not be seen at all. Taking him to our medical center was an alternative to taking him to an emergency room. If you would read my chapter titled To E.R. or Not to E.R.? (available at thedementiadiary.com), you will understand that this is absolutely our last choice after the horror stories we have experienced. Hubby’s wounds needed cleaning and stitches. We chose to have him cared for in the least invasive, and least upsetting environment, which was our medical center with our family doctor.
You can thus understand why we needed to postpone the birthday party scheduled for today. Hubby was exhausted, bandaged, bruised, bloody, and very fragile as a result of the fall. Each fall results in a form of shock which requires a minimum of 24 hours rest before his body and brain return to their previous status quo.
We have rescheduled the party for two-days-time, when we have been advised that he will likely look far worse as the blood will drain down into his cheeks from his forehead. I wonder if I can forbid photographs at the party? That doesn’t sound very friendly and festive, even to me.
To add insult to injury, Dr. N. was concerned that Hubby jolted his teeth badly when he fell, and wants Hubby to eat soft foods for a few days to let the gums get over the trauma. Hubby is a difficult eater at the best of times, but he will likely be willing to eat ice cream multiple times per day to get some calories for subsistence. I had to laugh when Dr. N. instinctively said, “No sugar in the ice cream,” because Hubby is a type two diabetic. It may not seem logical; however, my husband would not be alive today to celebrate his 95th birthday if we had not ignored the taboo regarding sugar for the past few years. Fortunately, the specialist who works with geriatric patients (exclusively) explained long ago that Hubby would actually live longer with the sugar, than without it. Life is strange, is it not?
We returned home from the lengthy first-aid appointment, in time to make dinner and Hubby became aware of the new oven sitting in our living room. Our old one simply stopped working a few days ago and I had to go out and purchase a new one quickly. We are exhausting our recipe selection of foods which can be made on the stove top of the gas range.
Meanwhile, in spite of the energy which was expended and the stress experienced while arranging for the emergency dentist and doctor appointments, the rushing to the doctors, the aftercare involved, Hubby decided to lecture me on how much I had, no-doubt, spent for the oven. He became quite vociferous (loud…angry), that I am spending money so frivolously! He actually has no idea how much ovens cost or whether I made a good choice or not. I decided that was my moment to leave the room, as these absurdities are just the straw breaking the back of my camel.
I pulled out an old favorite recipe for stewed chicken. I made mashed potatoes and gave Hubby some cranberry sauce with the meal to add a bit of color to the plate. The simplicity of the meal, and the fact that he had a dessert style lunch, gave him an appetite. He followed the meal later with his favorite sugar-laden ice cream.
When it was time to go to bed, he told me that he would love me forever, and I promised him the same. Life is a roller-coaster ride these days. The past twenty-four hours have been about as hard as any day has been in a very long time. Still, it ended well, which helps me to move forward.
The nurses at our medical center looked at me sans makeup, looking like a worn out scarecrow and suggested that I go home and have a “stiff drink.” My bottle of rum is beckoning to me, and yet, I fear I am too tired to bother. Never mind…another time.
