Respite

 

Respite a most wonderful word used to conjure magical places, peaceful settings and moments carrying memories to last a lifetime. I recently had a respite. I have been in hospice for about eight weeks now and while in their care, I've felt cared for and nurtured at the very least. Every staff member that interacted with me was an innate caregiver and i felt it. Thus, when I felt myself getting a little weak i could not figure out why. I said nothing to those around me. Then my nurse came for her weekly visit. She took one look at me, and you have declined, not you, you have to be around for Baseball's opening Day in the spring. Pulling up my pants which was beginning to slip, I replied without too much conviction," I'll be here in front of the television." She did not reply so i thought she'd let the matter go. She did her regular checkup, blood sugar, blood pressure, and temperature. Then she scribbled on her tablet, and all the other things she does on her visit, said goodbye and left.

Later that evening, I thought about her words on my declining and the possible reason for the sudden decline. It dawned on me quite alarmingly that I had not been eating for the past few days. The reason was the disruption to our daily lives caused by the renovation being done to the floors on the downstairs level preventing easy access to the areas where food is kept and prepared. This made food almost constantly inaccessible. There is no one responsible but from day to day we went on with our daily lives coming and going not truly noticing the minute changes leading to my decline. with this discovery I sent a text to my grand nurse, mostly garbled because I used the microphone to write the text. Nevertheless, she deciphered the message and called the social worker assigned to my case. That triggered a process of which i was completely ignorant but worked to my benefit. This process my social described to me as a respite and involved the words "Nursing Home. My niece with whom I live literally freaked out. I at the time I simply accepted the resolution both of my hospice caregivers' thought was best for me in that moment.

The next day the medical taxi pulled into our driveway, and I was on my way to the nursing home. The driver pulled into a sheltered driveway, unloaded me. Unloaded me onto a wheelchair, wheeled me down a long hallway, stopped in front of my new room door. The driver took out my suitcase and put it in the room in front of the bed closer to door. On the bed behind the front bed sat a woman who grabbed the remote control as soon as I sat on the bed. Events were moving so fast I barely noticed her action and thought nothing of it.

I took off my shoes and laid down on the bed. My new roommate and I exchanged names and small talk. shortly thereafter, I fell asleep and slept until I was awakened by loud conversation.  I was disoriented and did not know where I was, I opened and looked at an unfamiliar wall with a television perched at the very top of it. I remembered that I was taken to the nursing home, so there was someone there with me. Turning to face the other bed I asked the Roommate if she could turn down the volume. Her answer was a growl and the volume remained where it was." I can't just lay here all day; I need something to occupy my mind." Things did not improve throughout the night. 

The temperature must have fallen as it got colder, which triggered many trips to the bathroom. Between my bathroom trips and the well-nigh pornographic language blearing from the TV I had a very uncomfortable night. Early the next Morning the nurse knocked on the door to give the roommate her medicine. Upon seeing the face of another human being, I simply started to cry. The nurse's voice filled with compassion as she asked me what was wrong. all chocked up and unable to speak, I could only point to the bed holding the roommate. Understanding washed over the nurse's face and two or three of the other workers' as well. Someone hugged my shoulder and my anguish subsided to a small whimper as I allowed myself to become somewhat calmer.

 All the time, I was chanting, "I want to go home." Among those in the gathering was the facility's social worker and their equipment manager. One of the managers asked me if given a different would I stay. "Yes", through tears. That brought an end to the entire situation by the door. I was moved to another room on a completely different hallway, which I supposed was for my safety and protection.

Six days later I was returned home with the physical proof that my respite worked because I started feeling much better, I am grateful