Greg and I had a long conversation today. I brought him up to date on the conversation I had had earliler with the manager of the hostel. He told me the following:


We are not sure what day the ACAT assessment will be done on dad, only that it will be some time this week. It is almost a foregone conclusion that dad will be reassessed as high-care, dementia-specific.

Dad's physiotherapy continues daily. It consists of a walk to the end of the corridor and back again. When Greg asked whether this is enough the physiotherapist said that he had so many people to get around to every day that it was all he could do for dad. It probably would be better if dad could get more. I might try to take him for a walk myself next time.

Greg has spoken to the manager of the nursing home into which we are now assuming dad will be going. They have a 'extra service' area, for which there is a much shorter waiting list, an additional $50 per day charge, more good things (we will find out what these are when we visit on Thursday) but no increase in the bond ($250,000) we need to pay. Since nursing home care is very likely from now on, Greg and I both want to see dad in the best possible surroundings. We were together when we went to visit our first nursing home many months ago, and we both came out feeling quite shocked. For our own sake, we do not want to see dad in a place like that one.

The irony of the fact that dad will probably fail his ACAT test because of reduced mobility, which is acerbated by drugs, which were administered because he was getting too mobile and trying to get out of bed, is monumental. We just hope that the higher staffing levels of this 'extra service' area mean that dad's increased need to get up and move around is accommodated rather than suppressed.

Finally, Greg told me that my friend's injunction that we take nothing for granted, which I had passed to him just as he was on his way to visit dad yesterday, had made a deep impression on him later. Dad had been so terribly tired, he could hardly eat, and needed to be put to bed right away. He was lying on his back, legs straight and together, arms on his chest, eyes closed, scarcely breathing at all, dead still in fact. The covers were pulled right up to his chin, and tucked over his shoulders, pulled tight and straight. He looked like a corpse, Greg said.