Having Run-Ins With Authority (2)

Having Run-Ins with Authority (2)

As the days of the New Year passed by, talks with the health-care professionals as to where Mum would go next, became a great deal more pressing. We kept being told that we must make a decision: was Mum coming home to live with us, or were we going to put her into a care home?

 I knew it would impossible for us to take Mum home in her current state - she needed more time, in a rehabilitation setting, with more help that was not available in her current situation.  We knew that there must be options, but they would have to be found, recommended and fought for; Mum wasn't fit enough to come straight home, and we were not going to be bamboozled into rushing into something that could turn out to be a disaster.

During this time, we took advice from very helpful people in the Patients Advisory Liaison Service (PALS), and one of the orthopaedic surgeons gave me another good piece of advice.  He said, "I know you want to have your Mum living with  you; and from her follow-up appointments, I can see why you are worried about her being discharged straight from hospital to home."  He then told me, "You must say, if she comes home now, you cannot guarantee her safety....."

That turned out to be a gem. One morning, whilst I was with Mum, helping her to brush her teeth and giving her breakfast with full cream milk, the Ward Manager came over to see me.

"I have to tell you," she said, "we have arranged a full meeting this morning, regarding your Mother's future care. All the health professionals who have dealt with your Mother will be present, to discuss what we are going to do."

It was very much on a "take it or leave it" attitude.  We had no choice in the matter; the meeting would go ahead in a couple of hours, whether the rest of the family could be there or not.

I quickly rang round, and rallied everyone - in the end, three of us were ranged against a panel of health care professionals who definitely considered they knew better than anyone, what should happen to Mum.

I am not that good at coping in situations like these.  Hours later, there are always things I remember I should have said, and things I wish I had thought about at the time, and had omitted to put forward.  Happily, one member of the family is able to sit calmly and quietly during meetings, not saying very much at all,  just listening, taking everything in; later, like a tiger, he pounces, leaving the opponent with not much choice but to agree to all he suggests.

The meeting commenced. Reports flowed back and forth and the main objective was to move Mum on - in the circumstances, it was felt, a care home would be best.  We were adamant this was not our wish, but before coming home to live with us, we felt Mum needed to spend some time in a "half-way" situation. We had heard about a particular hospital, where patients could stay for a maximum of six weeks, and which concentrated on helping them to achieve their full potential; this would also give us the time we needed to get things organised at home.

The young social worker who was present made a great show of rustling her folders, files and paper work; she piped up that it was impossible to find a bed in this hospital; in addition, it was in a different area, and there would be no funding available..... There was a general nodding of heads; clearly the panel felt that that would be that, we would accept what the Social Worker said, and go away.

This was the moment when our family struck back; they had reckoned without the tiger.  Very quietly, so everyone had to pay attention and listen, he looked straight at the Social Worker and said, "Well, then, you are going have to try and achieve what we are asking. This is the week you are going to have to earn your salary.....!"

After that, the meeting broke up very quickly.  If some of the people present had been able to harrumph at the suggestion of Mum moving to rehab, they most certainly would have done; we hardly merited a "Goodbye" from anyone.  I saw Mum on the ward, and promised I would be back later, as usual, with her dinner. Mum of course remained in blissful ignorance about the meeting that had just taken place, where strangers, who knew little about her, and nothing of her past history, had been trying to organise her life - and ours! - for her. I went home, the rest of the family went to their work; we felt we had already done a full day's work!  It had been quite a morning, and we awaited developments with trepidation.

Over the next few days, every time I went on the ward,  I sensed a certain froidure in the air emanating from the Ward Managers; this persisted until a week or so after the meeting, when the Social Worker returned for a visit to Mum, with a progress report.

She was positively beaming.  "I have some good news!" she said, "I've managed to get your mother a bed in the rehab hospital! They are organising an admission date, and will let us know soon, exactly when it is."

"That's an excellent result," I said.  I let go of the feeling that if we hadn't been prepared to stand up and fight for what we knew was best for Mum, no-one in authority would have made the effort!