An Update On TB The Elder: Hospital Part II

 Yesterday was not a good update day.

Around 0900 Local Time I received a call from a young woman where TB The Elder is staying.  He had fallen - again - and per procedure they were sending him to the hospital.  He seemed - again - very confused.  They have no idea how long he was on the floor.

My sister (who fortunately, as it turned out, had the day off), was able to get to the hospital later.  My father was confused - confused to the point that he did not seem aware my sister was there.  He was making almost no sense at all and the only two clear words were "No" and "Listen".  

We now have a new social worker, who after speaking with my sister recommended we move him to a 24 hour care facility.  This seems likely and needed as he cannot be alone by himself now for any period of time (he does have a call button that he wears around his neck at his current location and we have both reminded him of it, but that we know of he has not used it once). 

The social worker had a location she recommended - which as it turned out, was in the same town my sister lives in.  They even have an empty space.  She went for a tour today and says it seems nice - more "homey" than the place he is currently staying.  And, possibly, it can be covered by their insurance.

My sister called later in the day.  The doctor saw evidence of a stroke so he has been admitted to the neurology ward.  Also, they are concerned he may have wrenched or strained something in his shoulder during the fall.

To be honest, I find myself a bit beyond hope at this point.  This will hopefully be an improvement for him in terms of having someone around 24 hours a day, but more and more there are gaping holes in him - who he is - that are being torn away and are not coming back.  Listening to my sister speak, we spent the weekend replaying in a way the events of December and January, where he became very panicked - almost neurotically so - and was calling several times a day over seemingly minor things like the date and the television not working.  Then, February happened.  

Now, it feels like it is happening all over again.

I had reconciled myself in February that while my father's body was here, my father was in large part not here.  But there was still some kind of hope that something would still be there of him.  Now, even that hope is fading.  

He received the official diagnosis of dementia yesterday. It at least gives a cause and allows other things to happen, but offers a cold comfort - as does the evidence of the stroke.  More of a coda, really, than the sort of diagnosis that leads to action that improves thing.