Don't panic!
By M on Thursday 7 December 2006, 18:46 - Journal - Permalink
When I recall that the nurses have, on occasion, called me to pass on such
crucial information as that one of them has been hit on the head with a packet
of pills, I am astounded at what they did today.
It all began, for me, with several messages left by dad. His voice sounded strange, so that I was immediately alarmed, suspecting that something had gone wrong. Each message was either incoherent or was a request for me to call him back.
Dad had been told, by the nurse who visited (rather earlier than we had agreed, I note) that he ought to see a doctor about a mark on the side of his head, as it might be cancer.
Why the nurse had decided that this piece of potentially ALARMING information should be imparted directly to dad, a person who they know is suffering from Alzheimer's disease, and therefore prone to ANXIETY and, because of MEMORY LOSS, quite likely to FORGET to do anything about it, is beyond me. Why they couldn't just phone me, seeing as my number is emblazoned on the medicine chest they work with, why they couldn't just pass the message on via any of the other means of contacting me that they have never failed to use in the past, I don't know.
For a profession famous for keeping a cool head in an emergency, they seem to have a surprising relish for the melodramatic.
I thought it was very inefficient that they, being medical people, would tell us, non-medical people, that we ought to contact other medical people to have things like a suspected urinary tract infection looked at. I thought they ought to speak to the doctor directly instead of relying on us. However, they have certainly found an even less efficient way of passing information around now. The goals seem to be something along the lines of:
It all began, for me, with several messages left by dad. His voice sounded strange, so that I was immediately alarmed, suspecting that something had gone wrong. Each message was either incoherent or was a request for me to call him back.
Dad had been told, by the nurse who visited (rather earlier than we had agreed, I note) that he ought to see a doctor about a mark on the side of his head, as it might be cancer.
Why the nurse had decided that this piece of potentially ALARMING information should be imparted directly to dad, a person who they know is suffering from Alzheimer's disease, and therefore prone to ANXIETY and, because of MEMORY LOSS, quite likely to FORGET to do anything about it, is beyond me. Why they couldn't just phone me, seeing as my number is emblazoned on the medicine chest they work with, why they couldn't just pass the message on via any of the other means of contacting me that they have never failed to use in the past, I don't know.
For a profession famous for keeping a cool head in an emergency, they seem to have a surprising relish for the melodramatic.
I thought it was very inefficient that they, being medical people, would tell us, non-medical people, that we ought to contact other medical people to have things like a suspected urinary tract infection looked at. I thought they ought to speak to the doctor directly instead of relying on us. However, they have certainly found an even less efficient way of passing information around now. The goals seem to be something along the lines of:
- unnecessarily involve more people in the process
- cause panic where possible
- make information loss more likely
- delay things
Comments
Hi Mike, I have at last gone looking for blogs on dementia and am delighted to have found you. Feel somewhat overwhelmed by your competence, but at the same time strengthened by your stories and facts. I seem to always be angry in my interactions with the system so find your measured though irritated reporting of the peculiar communications that we are so often subject to calming and inspiring, back into the fray in an intelligent way I will go rather than defensively and crossly. Well a bit better.
My Mum is in late stage dementia now and needs to move from low level to high. She has also suffered a fracture to the neck of her femur, hence pain and hospitals now figure far more prominently in her life. Pain has become a major issue for her, and me, as I struck for the first time the claim that dementia sufferers feel less pain than others. It was even hinted to me that they can stack it on, in a very unsatisfactory explanation to my agonised enquiries as to why she was subjected to the insertion of a catheter without adequate analgesics and broken hip. I failed her and was determined that I would not do so again. I will of course. I did discover from reading however, to my great sadness, that dementia sufferers get far less in the way of analgesics, or as one paper put it in summary, "Under treatment of pain in dementia is a frequent and frightening observation; its risk increases with the severity of dementia".
Have read some of your posts, will work my way through the rest with gratitude. Have you ever discussed the Privacy Act and the problems it causes the families and friends of dementia sufferers?
Any way regards and thanks.
Ros, Thanks for your comments. I am particularly alarmed by what you say of the medical fraternity's attitude to pain in the demented. Horrific. I hadn't heard of this before. Forewarned is forearmed.
Hi, I just found your blog listed on someone elses, themomandmejournals, I think. I just recently have been browsing through blogs trying to find more from a son/daughter perspective. I could relate somewhat, however, I cannot imagine both parents suffering from this illness. I really liked what you said about keeping them laughing. My father is presently in a nursing home after having a stroke six weeks ago. He was already diagnosed with Alzheimers, but the stroke has caused Vascular Dementia. When I visit him, I really try to keep things light even when he's not in a good mood and we have had some really good laughs! One day, my brother actually had tears in his eyes because we were laughing so hard. I haven't seen my brother laugh like that in years. My Dad is in the rehab program now with the hopes that he will come home, but, most days it doesn't seem like much of a reality. I really feel like no one else understands how I feel, except my sister. I can't even discuss with very close friends because they just don't get it. I was really happy to find your blog. Will continue to read...You can visit mine if you like and leave a comment, if you have one. Also, if you would like, reply to me by email.
Sounds all too familiar. Once in awhile I find a fantastic, sensitive medical professional person, but it's always a surprise, although a welcome one.
I, too, have read about the medical establishment's all thumbs approach to pain and dementia. It's very scary, especially considering that my mother has never been prone to cop to pain, but is more likely to exhibit what seem to the Medicine to be insignificant indicators when she is in considerable pain.