Contented Confusion
The bed was empty. John and I looked at each other, "I'll go look for a nurse," he offered
.
"All right honey, I'll wait here for you."
Within ten minutes he and the nurse returned together, both looking worried. "I'm just going to help look for her," John told me. "You wait here in case she comes back; they thought she was sitting out on the solarium, but her chair is empty."
The nurse added, "if she's not in the bathroom or anywhere around here, I'll go over and check the hospital wards. She was definitely on the solarium only half an hour ago."
John's mother was in the nursing home annex of St Bartholomew's Hospital, which was joined to the main hospital complex by a long corridor. When we first brought her here from her previous nursing home she was almost bedridden, and confused and dribbling constantly from overmedication. Such a distraught state did her mind get into at times, that often she had to be restrained in her chair or her bed.
A wonderful doctor who thought outside the square supervised the running of St Barts Nursing Home and consequently, with more responsible management, my mother-in-law was now, though confused, happy in herself and mobile around the home. Unfortunately, her confused state due to senile dementia often led to her getting lost. Once, asking help from another patient’s visiting relative who completely fell for her guile, she escaped the complex altogether and roamed the streets for several hours. On that occasion John and I had driven up hill and down dale, looking into all the nooks and crannies of darkened streets, until at last we found her. She was blocks away, clothed but barefooted, tired and worn out from tramping endlessly around.
She rounded on John when we approached, "Oh come on John -- hurry up -- I'm so tired and fed up!" Smiling, we returned her in one piece to the nursing home, where she was soon tucked up and sound asleep.
We loved this nursing home. Although it hadn't been built to cater for clients with dementia, the staff were outstanding in their quality of care and their love and devotion. Many times as we sat there with her a staff member approached with bright sparkly conversation, hugging her affectionately.
Within six months she got to the stage where this place was the only home she knew. If we took her out to our home for a visit she became anxious, hyperventilating and asking confused questions that we could not answer. Soon we realised this was the end of the line for her. There would be no more home visits because she only became more upset and disoriented.
--00--
Now she was lost again. The nurse returned looking more worried than ever.
"I can't find her anywhere -- I've looked in all the wards and searched all the bathrooms -- I even went up to the operating theatre in case she went up there -- but nothing." Then she added, "We put an alarm on her wrist -- but she worked at it till she got it off."
The nursing home supervisor joined us, also looking worried. I guess she was concerned that we might sue them. But it wasn't their fault. We knew when we took our mother there that they weren't equipped to cater for people who wandered away. They were doing their utmost to keep her indoors while still concerned about her freedom of movement. That was important to us. Really their quality of care made up for any shortfalls.
But something had to be done immediately to find her. We agreed to go out in the car and search t he streets.
We started with Koplick Terrace on the top side of the nursing home. This was a long street which wound around and down the side of a hill and had to be at least a kilometre long. At the end of the street was a large fairground and as the annual Big Exhibition was about to be staged, the wide gates were open and an army of workers were busy setting up merry-go-rounds, a ferris wheel, stalls of all descriptions and cattle and poultry showing stalls.
I didn't think she could possibly have gone this far. Neither did John. He turned the car right at the next side street and we slowly toured the block. Street by street we surveyed the area, craning our necks out the car windows. It was 4 PM and we didn't want to be much later before we found her. The weather was still cool and it would be getting a bit chilly after 5 PM, especially for an old lady.
We decided to check in with St Barts. John returned to the car feeling despondent, "No sign of her."
He settled himself behind the steering wheel and switched on the motor again. We didn't know where to go next, but just then his mobile phone rang. "Ye-es...I do," I heard him say. Then, "We’ll be down straight away."
"She’s down at the Cas at the Royal," he said, "Somebody found her down in the Showgrounds. She's had a fall and the ambulance took her to Casualty.
Sure enough, when we arrived she was sitting up as large as life on one of the couches chatting to the staff. The doctor had inserted three stitches into a cut on her forehead. We found out she'd had a fall inside the Showgrounds away across the opposite side from Koplick Terrace. She'd managed to get all the way to the cattle pavilions, where she'd had a fall and someone had called the ambulance. The hospital had tracked us down by the name tag sewn into the back of her dress.
The nursing home welcomed her back with lots of hugs and kisses and laughing and exclaiming over her adventure. She was happy to be the centre of attention, but after a bowl of soup decided she was too tired to eat anything else and was soon curled up like an innocent little child sound asleep.
John and I hugged each other tight. "Thank God she is all right," I whispered.
John’s only comment was, "Poor mum."
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