Friday, 13 July 2007


My dad's in hospital. I'm not quite sure why he was admitted. I think it was perhaps a district nurse or doctor being concerned. Dad had an infection and was a bit dehydrated but other than that he was as normal.

Well when I say normal, he can't walk at all easily, he's a bit confused and he has attitude.

He wants to go home, and I don't blame him. Even though he's in a modern hospital in a two bed room with his own en suite, it's not the same as home. It's probably cleaner than home and the food and company are probably better. But it's not within Dad's comfort zone so I understand.

I also understand the position of the Physiotherapist, Occupational therapist, nurses and doctors who don't think Dad is ready to go home. They want him to be mobile, compos mentis and safe at home if discharged.

And in the middle, there's me. I'm explaining to the nurses that Dad is sane, mobile with a frame and desperate to get home. I'm explaining to Dad that the staff are doing all they can to help and they'll only release him when they're happy he'll be OK.

I don't play piggy in the middle very well. In my last conversation with Dad I told him to discharge himself.

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