Thursday, March 24, 2011
Last appointment cont.
I'm sure the caregiver thought I was angry at him since my face was set in irritation and anger. He started apologizing again as I approached them and I tried to quickly put him at ease, explaining my ire was reserved for the idiot nurses who couldn't manage to come up with some paper towels. I took another good look at Dad and the inside of the care, and headed back into the hospital, telling the caregiver I was going to get paper towels. At the first restroom I saw, I started yanking papertowels out of the dispenser, creating quite a nice pile that I then took back to the car. Using only one towel and a trash bag, the caregiver had managed to get Dad out of his jacket, which took the brunt of the explosion, and cleaned him off fairly well. Dad was still shivering and looking decidedly stressed out, so we planted him into a wheelchair and I took off for the warm interior of the hospital while the caregiver turned to his noxious car.
As I pushed Dad through the corriders I kept repeating how sorry I was, how after this appointment we were never bringing him back here if we could help it, and trying to cheer him up a little. I think I actually achieved it as he seemed a little more calm and curious by the time we got to the doctor's office. Sitting there, waiting to be called in, I again assured Dad that this was it for doctor's visits. I have no idea whether he understood, but I hope so and I hope it relieved his stress.
We hurried the doctors through their inspection of the surgical site, pleading Dad's stress and discomfort. I must make a note that smelling of vomit is one way to get medical personnel to attend to you more quickly! We finished up the visit and began to wheel Dad back out of the office. As he and the caregiver got into the elevator for the trip down to their fragrant car, I walked the other way to the main parking lot, limping from the speed walking I'd had to do earlier. I felt sorry for Dad, for all the stress and trouble, knowing that this very well could have been his way of expressing his displeasure and discomfort at all of these prying and prodding visits. I'm going to keep my promise to him as best I can, and honor his beliefs as well as I can. There will be no more doctor visits unless he's in terrible discomfort of pain, because the doctor's visits themselves are causing more pain and trouble than any problem he's had.
As I pushed Dad through the corriders I kept repeating how sorry I was, how after this appointment we were never bringing him back here if we could help it, and trying to cheer him up a little. I think I actually achieved it as he seemed a little more calm and curious by the time we got to the doctor's office. Sitting there, waiting to be called in, I again assured Dad that this was it for doctor's visits. I have no idea whether he understood, but I hope so and I hope it relieved his stress.
We hurried the doctors through their inspection of the surgical site, pleading Dad's stress and discomfort. I must make a note that smelling of vomit is one way to get medical personnel to attend to you more quickly! We finished up the visit and began to wheel Dad back out of the office. As he and the caregiver got into the elevator for the trip down to their fragrant car, I walked the other way to the main parking lot, limping from the speed walking I'd had to do earlier. I felt sorry for Dad, for all the stress and trouble, knowing that this very well could have been his way of expressing his displeasure and discomfort at all of these prying and prodding visits. I'm going to keep my promise to him as best I can, and honor his beliefs as well as I can. There will be no more doctor visits unless he's in terrible discomfort of pain, because the doctor's visits themselves are causing more pain and trouble than any problem he's had.
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