I guess we all have days when we expect to find an oasis of calm and instead find ourself plummeting like a stone through a manky stagnant pool of calamity. Well, it was my turn yesterday. More specifically, during last nights visit to the (usually calm) hospital to visit my Grandad. A bit of background at this point - My Grandmother has Alzheimers which is progressively getting worse and with my Grandad being away for home for 4 months now she is weepy and distressed a lot of the time due to the fact that she can’t remember where he is.
Anyway, upon arrival at the hospital with my Granny in tow I am met by one of the nurses who informs me that my Grandad is slightly ‘upset’ because Bill is playing up. Bill is the patient in the next bed and he is for want of a better expression, mentally handicapped. He has been in and out of care homes all of his life and has ended up in hospital due to a hip injury. Now Bill has a tendency to swear and grunt but yesterday he took it to a whole new level. Poor guy can’t help it I hasten to add and I don’t hold him responsible for the chaos. Yesterday however, swearing and grunting graduated to throwing various objects around.
So we arrive, and my Grandad is livid. Probably the angriest I’ve seen him in my 35 years on earth. Eyes bulging and he’s shouting at the top of his voice, criticising the nurses, Bill and saying that he’s leaving. At this point my Granny gets upset and decides she is not leaving him there either or alternatively that she will stay the night if she has to (he’s in no fit state to go anywhere and she is not able to stay so you can see the argument I ended up getting into).
To add to the mayhem, the bloke in the bed on the other side of my Grandad has also had enough of Bill also and is having to be restrained by his family to stop him throwing stuff back the way. Another old bloke is standing with a zimmer frame in the middle of the ward shouting to Bill that “If I had a knife I’d cut yer throat ye joker”. Finally to add to the craziness of the mix there’s a bed ridden fellow in the far corner shouting that “He’s no got a gun”. Who that statement was about or aimed at I still have no idea.
It took me about an hour to calm the whole thing down and get everyone back to their correct state of mind and the nurses had to take my Granny away for a cup of tea to calm her down. The whole place is a bloody loony bin. I’m going in this afternoon for a visit to cheer the old lad up. I’ll take him in a couple of ham rolls to lift the spirit. I hope Bill has chilled out again or I’ll be posting a similar tale tomorrow no doubt. The irony of men trying to fight whilst unable to actually reach each other due to broken arms, hips, pelvises etc was not lost on me, I can tell you.
Further to this situation it then took me about 2 hours to get my Granny settled after all the upset. Bloody hell. What a shift. A funny aside to this was that when I was leaving on Sunday night one of the old lads (who has Alzheimers) thought I was a bus and proceeded to ask me “Driver, do you go up Restalrig Road?”. Funny, but heartbreaking at the same time. Who’d want to get old?
on Nov 25th, 2006 at 11:10 am
Fabulous story, and wonderfully told! My Nan, who turned 90 two weeks ago, also has Alzheimers; mild but getting worse.
Recently, after a fall, she woke up on her second day in hospital and, having completely forgotten her first day there, asked “Am I in Germany?”. You could see why she thought it though!