Peaceful Breeze by Carrington Mark;

Author:Carrington, Mark; [Mark Carrington]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 4801090
Publisher: Clink Street Publishing
Published: 2017-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

7

Our life routine

​Discharge from hospital

I remember vividly the day Mum was discharged from the King Edward Hospital. It will stay in my memory forever. I arrived at the ward around mid-afternoon on Tuesday, 16th September 2014.

As part of the discharge process, the pharmacist discussed Mum’s medication.

“You need to speak to my son,” Mum told her.

Mum needed to take one 15mg mirtazapine tablet at night, for five nights. The pharmacist advised Mum that she also had to take Dalteparin, which is an injected anticoagulant to ensure the thinning of her blood and to stop any blood clotting. “Who will do that?” I questioned the pharmacist.

“You, of course,” she pointed out tersely.

“I don’t know how to inject a needle into Mum,” I argued.

“That’s not my problem,” the pharmacist replied in a dismissive tone.

Then the pharmacist immediately left Mum and started to walk over to see another patient on the ward.

I just could not believe how she was treating us. I subsequently interrupted her and told her I didn’t like her attitude. It was clear she had no appreciation of how to talk to elderly patients. The pharmacist looked at me with a blank expression. I was not going to receive any assistance from her.

I subsequently spoke to the Matron, who apologised. She arranged for a District Nurse to visit Mum every day and administer the injection.

By 2 pm that afternoon, Mum was fully dressed and sitting on her bed. She had been promised that an ambulance would arrive by 3 pm to take her home. I subsequently inquired to see if I could travel with her. Due to insurance reasons, however, I wasn’t allowed to travel in the ambulance.

As Mum was sitting on the bed, a nurse walked over to her. The nurse then went to take Mum’s Zimmer frame away.

“This is the NHS frame,” she hastily remarked to Mum. “You can’t take it home.”

Once again, I interrupted. Mum’s eyes rolled as if to say, Mark, please not again.

“Are you being serious? Look at her, she can hardly walk,” I asserted. “She is not leaving the hospital without it.”

“Just for the record,” I added, “two weeks ago, the occupational therapist advised me that Mum could keep it. We are not stealing anything.”

The nurse shrugged her shoulders and left, annoyed. She reported me to the Matron. A few hours later the Matron walked over to me and once again apologised.

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