Finally. Hospital.

Help has arrived. Finally.

Dear Son finally got real and agreed that a hospital should look at his 86 year old mother who is groaning in pain in diapers on the soiled living room carpet.....finally.


I'm relieved.

True: yesterday she did manage to sit up for a short time and drink tea. And she lay down again on the other side. And she ate some rice and milk. All good.....so we don't think it's a huge emergency.

But.


She stayed in the same position on the carpet after that. As we tried to change the diapers again this morning she was crying out in pain and slapping us away....

And Dear Son looked at me. And I sighed. And he agreed.
What IS it with him and this hospital aversion? Why oh why? He pressures me to take the cats to the vets if they have the slightest problem - why won't he respond naturally for his own mother?

As the ambulance staff were taking notes and checking Okaasan - one of them asked me about the situation.

"Saturday? She fell on Saturday? Why did you call us today???"

Why indeed. I felt guilty. While I don't wish bad things on Okaasan, I hope a doctor or somebody says to Dear Son: you should have brought her here earlier. Why didn't you?

Okaasan was ok with the ambulance guys. Didn't remember the fall and the past 4 days of course. But grudgingly agreed that maybe an X-ray was a good idea etc. She let them take her. They talked kindly and professionally.

So. They've gone. I have a big day of work ahead. 7 classes and stuff. 


And a really soiled carpet to take to the dry cleaners. Finally.

Let's hospital.....

Okaaasan and me went to hospital. Oh yes indeedy.
A wonderful weekend of togetherness.

All started Saturday morning. In the toilet.
I'd had a party with students Friday night...eaten and drunk too much. Had an upset stomach. 
Thought that was it. Planned to spend the day quietly anyway with a Downton Abbey Season 3 and 4 DVD catchup. Felt a bit hungover.

Saturday passed. So so feeling. Quiet. Bit tired.
Lunch and dinner with Okaasan. 

Saturday night...Sunday morning.

Toilet hell. 
Both ends for me. Diarrhea and vomiting.

And the missing toiletmat told me Okaasan was having diarrhea too.

Sunday dawn I was in her room - weakly - checking for soiled towels and pajamas.

A kind friend whose husband has just spent a week in quarantine in the guest room with a stomach virus etc was advising me via Facebook thru the night and so I bagged up my and Okaasan's soiled clothes and two toilet mats and started the search for a hospital open on a Sunday.

I mailed Dear Son at the ski lodge. Told him that I was definitely going to get medicine. He agreed I should try to take Okaasan too. I'm 56 and can probably fight off a virus. She is 86.

I dreaded it. Really didn't have the energy to fight it out with her. Hospitals no no no...doctors no no....medicine....no no! I decided  to try and gently trick her into it. And if she fought me on it not to waste my dwindling energy on her.

She seemed fine. Of course didn't remember anything about her diarrhea. Even when I showed her the mat and pajamas covered with.....

At 10.15 am I entered her room and brightly suggested: "Let's go out! Nice weather today" She willingly scrambled up and started getting ready for "out". Hoping shopping and food. 

Instead we drove to a local hospital.
As we entered the parking area I made an excuse: "Oh, I was a bit sick last night, I need to get some medicine here, yes...yes...come in with me...waiting in the car is cold..."

And she came with me. No fight.

A full waiting room of zombies. Sweaty, dull, exhausted people. Influenza and stomach virus is everywhere here now. We registered and sat watching TV for an hour or more.
I had a temperature of  37. 4. Okaasan was 36.

Finally saw a breezy, cheerful doctor who managed to process us both within 4 minutes.

"Ichoen". Stomach virus. Not Noro Virus. Not food poisoning. Not infectious, unless you cough on people or share a dirty toilet seat.....and then eat food with your hands....

He questioned Okaasan, who agreed with the last thing suggested to her - without really knowing what was what.
"How many times did you have diarrhea? 4 or 5 times...?"
"5 times? yes, maybe..."

I was worse than her. Luckily. About to fall off the hospital chair actually.
They put me on a IV drip for 40 minutes.

OKaasan sat in the waiting room with all the sick people. She looked tired. She needed lunch. I needed my sofa and a blanket. But I couldn't think of easy food at home to give her, and I felt sorry that her trip out in the car was this tiring,. negative experience.

So, after we got our medicines I took her to lunch. Let her order what she liked. I ordered the smallest thing on the menu for me. And ate about 25%.

She was happy! Not a care in Okaasan's world!

THAT is all her lunch set. And still many Japanese people say - "Oh Americans/foreigners eat so much! The meals are too big"

Look at all of that. Soba noodles, 4 pieces of sushi, tempura and egg custard.

Made me feel ill just looking at it. But I managed to take away half the sushi and all of the tempura while she was looking at fallen bits of noodles on her lap. She didn't notice at all. Didn't notice the big space on the tray. Short term memory loss has its uses. The waitress looked surprised - specially as the sushi was hiding on the seat next to me. But I managed to make excuses and get it taken away.

And then. Medicine time!

"Okaasan, time for our medicine! Yes. You and me. The doctor said. Here you are. Yes. You should take this. You and I had bad diarrhea last night. very bad. Yes. We need medicine. I don't want to clear up the toilet again  this afternoon. Yes. Medicine. Here is the water. Here. Yes...here"

And. 

She took three pills.

Even exhausted. I was elated.

Mission accomplished.

Got her home. Got me to the sofa. Slept for 3 hours.

Went for a hair cut and gentle chat with my kind, sweet hairdresser at 5 pm.

Gave Okaasan small dinner and MORE medicine.

Ate half a piece of toast and dosed myself.

Slept for 10 hours.

Now? I still have diarrhea. Yesterday 70% energy. But I did classes and a magazine interview about Hokkaido tourism.

Okaasan seems fine. No diarrhea I think. My Friday night part students said in Monday class that they were all fine - it wasn't food poisoning from the hotel party food.

I'm still operating at 80%. And very careful what I eat and drink.

But. The GREAT takeaway from this is that I CAN manage Okaasan and a medical situation. I can trick her gently into coming to a hospital with me. And even into taking medicine.

That is a win-win.

Excuse me. The toilet is calling.

Walking again

Son and mother have just gone out for a Sunday afternoon walk round the neighborhood.

She is better again. A few rough days, still not eating lots. But much brighter and, most importantly, she can get up off the carpet and stand unaided. Walk to the toilet. Walk to the kitchen table.
Today is the first time out since the fall last week.

So, there was 48 hours of DS having to pick her up off the carpet. Standing behind her with his arms under her arms and pulling her upright. I can't do that.
She is out of diapers and back into her own underwear. And changing herself.

So yes - it is good this fall happened while he is here to see the results and imagine what it would be like if I was here alone.

Before he goes to Tokyo I will get the contact numbers of the day service people. They will be my first call. Out of hours, or a real emergency it will be an ambulance.

And yes - probably a GREAT idea to get a letter of authorization from him to say that he recognises I am responsible for her care and that over her wishes I can decide to get her to a hospital.
He does feel that generally - although I think we disagree at one point a hospital may be necessary. But heavens - it is ONLY a hospital! We are not talking here about committing her to a mental institution. Only hospital. For like...oh I don't know - care and comfort?

And Okaasan?
Doesn't really remember that she fell down. Sometimes she does (because we've told her), but generally no memory of that.

Onwards into winter. This will be our SIXTH winter with Okaasan.
I started this blog in 2008, when Okaasan came to live with us.
And here we are 6 years later.

And I am still trying to perfect my miso soup.

:-)

Shouting. Again.

I promised myself that this blog would be honest.
Even if I'm not doing good things.
And i'm not.

Shouted at Okaasan and Dear Son again yesterday.
Full on, in your face shouting with anger and frustration.
Worst thing to do with someone who has dementia. Worst thing to do in Japan, a land of repressed emotions and unspoken communication.

We - well he mainly - tried to get Okaasan to get up, get dressed and come for a short walk to the outside of the house. To give her leg muscles some kind of exercise.
Long struggle with that, mentally and physically. She didn't even want to stand up in her room.
But after 30 mins she had made it to the entrance hall and put on her shoes. She had the new walking stick he'd bought for her.
She got down the step from the front door onto the porch mat.

Then couldn't get down the next 3 steps into the garden.
Couldn't. Wouldn't.
With help, or without it.
Pain, pain, pain.

Returned to the entrance hall chair.

I lost it at that point.
She was going on and on about how 20 years ago it had got better on its own, or some kind of treatment in Saitama had helped it, and it all got better....how she knows her body better than anyone etc etc etc
And I really do mean etc etc etc

And I shouted.
Got the kitchen calender and waved it at her. FIVE Bloody weeks of this and it hasn't got any better. It's got worse. 6 weeks ago you could walk in department stores downtown, two weeks ago you could get to the local McDonald's. Now you can't get out of the house. Next week you can't get to the toilet? Or the kitchen table?

Wasn't a good moment as a human being. Shouting with fury at an old lady, while her son tried to calm me down.

He got her back into the kitchen and got her to walk a few times around the kitchen for the muscle exercise. She was in great pain.

But.
Maybe breakthrough.
OKaasan says that 20 years ago she went to some kind of treatment place near her home in the Tokyo suburbs for a leg problem...and it helped.
I don't know what kind of treatment. Not mainstream medicine. Some kind of massage place?
The important thing is that she believes it helped.

Dear Son got her to agree that if he can find a similar place in Sapporo, maybe it's a good idea to go again.

That IS a breakthrough. That somebody outside this family can maybe help.
I don't care what the treatment is: it can be an old man who waves Japanese fans over the afflicted area and chants, or someone who does things with fireflies - as long as Okaasan thinks that SHE needs someone's help.
It is a step forward.

I've spent two months this year having acupuncture, and I know for many people that is way out beyond the fringe of common sense. So I am open to the possibility of alternative treatments.

Whatever might work. Let's try it, for F*** sake.

HOW he will get her out of the house and into the car to go to treatment...I don't know.

I hope that the treatment guy takes one look at OKaasan's condition, throws the fans away and calls her an ambulance to take her to a mainstream hospital - but of course, that won't happen. Whoever will try fireflies for a bit...and it might work, or not.
I've told Dear Son that in October, after 2 months I am calling in a home doctor. 

And now. I need to take my blood pressure away all of this. The ocean. The forest. Somewhere better than this house.

D-Day

Doctor Day
Dementia Day
Desperate Day

All of the above.

So, I came to work just now and left him at home, faffing around until lunchtime when he will suddenly say to his mother:
"Okaasan, y'know, recently your memory has been not so great, after lunch we are going to talk to a doctor. Be ready at 1.30 pm. Would you like more tofu?"

How would you react?
I think I'd get angry with him, defend myself strongly and then stuff the tofu down his throat and go back to watching the weather channel on TV.
That's what I'd do.
That's what I fear is going to happen.

But I can't do any more. I've brought her and him to this day: the day you actually bring Dementia out into public and ask for help.

He wasn't talking much to me about this today. I showed him the new-patient entry form on the clinic website, he downloaded and printed it out. Then put it in a file and didn't do anything about it yet. I have to stand back and let him take the action from here. He isn't going to do the white lie way. He's going for the truth because he says she will  rise to the challenge of proving that she is ok. Proving it by taking an interview test.

I wish I was a fly on the clinic wall today.

My final input was to deliver my letter to the doctor last night. The clinic is just round the corner from my classroom, so on my way home I jumped out of the car and ran across to put it in the mail box - my appeal for help with daycare and my assessment of Okaasan's abilities.
Couldn't find the mail box!!!
WTF???
This business doesn't have a mail box??? Just a glass sliding door? Don't they get letters? I hunted all round the building front, and in the apartment entrance area round the corner. Couldn't find one anyway.
Finally, I managed to slip the envelope under the glass doors into the clinic hallway. Ggyahhhh!!
This is going to be like some movie where the all-important letter slips under the doormat and nobody ever reads it.

Okaasan? All oblivious to what's going to happen to her today. Or, not happen.
We haven't said anything about it at all. If we did, she would fuss and fuss and stress and stress.
But of course, in that sick-pet-getting-perky-at-the-vets-kind-of-a-way she was on GREAT form yesterday.
Came out into the kitchen at breakfast time and greeted me cheerfully, took every single pair of dirty underpants into the bath to wash (but then forgot them all and left them in damp piles around the bathroom), and at dinner was very chatty with us about her husband and his golf playing...how she used to go along with him and sit in the golf clubs studying English and chatting to the caddys (but did repeat the stories several times).
All so normal.

I swear she pops downtown to an Internet cafe and checks this blog, and does this to wind me up.

Dear Son doesn't think she is so bad - he tells me each and every single time she does the washing up - I tell HIM each and every single time she leaves food rotting in her living room.
We trade stories to justify our point of view.
Such is family life around a touchy, health topic.

Haaaah. Let's all just cross our fingers and hope today goes as hoped.

Yesterday, I climbed another mountain of stress and survived. Did a speech in Japanese to the Inner Wheel Club, (the women of Rotary members). 3 weeks in preparation and 30 mins plus questions/answers in delivery.
SO relieved when it was over.
Doing things formally in Japanese is a big challenge for me, despite living here for 20 years. The topic was UK Volunteering...and I concentrated on sponsored events, charity shops and casual, local community volunteering. I think it went ok.
All a blur really. Made a mistake of not taking off my watch and putting it on the table in front of me - so first of all I didn't know how long it was all taking - until I somehow wrangled the watch off (while juggling with the microphone) and got it onto the table.
So elated afterwards. Huge weight off my mind. Came back to the classroom and ate a chocolate pudding to celebrate. Felt giddy-happy for the rest of the day.

Hope I feel giddy-happy later today.

There's a story in Japan at the moment of a woman who murdered many family members over many years and put the bodies under the house. Japanese media are wallowing in it.
Blog readers who know where I live (Heather, Izumi, Kumiko etc): if I don't post anything here for 24 hours after now, pleeeeese come and dig in the garden! 
There's no knowing how Okaasan is going to react to being told she needs to see a doctor about a mental health issue.

D-Day.

*#*#?#$

Hear me wilting from there?
####****&%$#$.

The city office says we have to get Okaasan to a hospital and a doctor for the assessment.

+)('&%##$%%&'I(NMJFTYXYRHMN<##%'(P))(''??**`"

Can't type the word I want to type here without Blogger deleting this account for public obscenity reasons.

Okaasan who hates hospitals and doctors, because she knows better than anyone in the whole wide world. Well, Health Guru Nishi-sensei knew a little better. But he's dead. Probably because he refused day care help and his demented mind stopped working. So we can't ask him to help.

I'm so, so so disappointed. Really thought that today it was all finally going to grind into action. Instead, came home from the city office after just 10 minutes, changed my clothes for work and will probably eat a huge amount of chocolate today to comfort myself.

A last ditch effort for help - the husband of one of my students is a psychiatrist. He offered back in the summer that someone from his hospital would do the assessment of Okaasan for us. At home? At the kitchen table over a cup of tea? I hope so. How I hope so.
I've sent my student e mails and stuff and we'll hold our breath. See what her husband thinks. Was it just a kind offer from someone who doesn't know the details of how the system works in Sapporo city? His specialty isn't old people, he was offering to introduce a colleague. Would a home visit assessment from a qualified person be ok? Frustratingly, my friend who is a public health worker near Tokyo says in HER city home assessments are available.
Not in Toyohira ward, Sapporo. Bugger.

The alternative is that this weekend we take Okaasan to a nice local hot spring and have warm friendly, family time...and then Yujiro will spring the topic on her.
He (predictably) wants to go the Total Honesty route: recently you've been having bad memory problems haven't you? Why don't we go along and chat to a nice doctor person and see if you qualify for a nice, friendly day  care place this winter, you could go along in a free bus and exercise and meet people and have fun! Couldn't you! That would be nice , wouldn't it!

And she will agree to this. And off she and Dear Son will go next week to a local hospital, and the doctor will say she is Level 2 on the dementia scale, or whatever, and he will recommend the city office make a Care Plan - and we will all skip happily into the sunset.

Or: she will say "I don't need anybody's help, cos I know best", or she will say "Yes" and then get to the doors of a hospital and see the words "Mental" or "Senior" on a sign and refuse to enter the building.

Not fair. Not fair at all. I get it : home assessments are expensive and my taxes would have to increase to support this. Most old people love going to hospitals and talking about themselves to a doctor.

Not ours.

FUCK IT. Hope Blogger doesn't delete me, cos otherwise I will go on a rampage with a large machine gun and take out my frustrations on the 3rd floor of the city office.

Robbery...the details.

Spoke to Jane Sunday night to hear the details of the robbery.
Amazing. Wonderful that neither of them were injured.
But very scary.

Monday lunchtime Lucy stepped outside the front door while waiting for lunch to cook.
As she stood enjoying the sunshine, a man suddenly appeared round the side of the house from the parking area - he has his face covered and looked cold/sick.
He walked up to her and forced her back into the house. Tied her hands behind her back and demanded money! He didn't appear to have any weapon, but he was a man and they are two women.
He didn't do anything to Jane, I guess he thought she was too old and feeble.
Then he stayed in the house FORTY MINUTES!!! He made Lucy walk from room to room and hunted in the drawers etc for money...
They have him some money and he found Lucy's late mother's wedding ring....he ripped out the house phone cables, took the mobiles and took the car keys.
He drove away....and came BACK a few minutes later to get his sweater which was in the field nearby.
Then drove away.
The car was found a 1 km away on the main road. So maybe he had a friend in a car, or a bike nearby?
Lucy managed to get out of her ties and ran to the main road to get help.

There were no other reports of anything like this in the area. The police think he may have been a  druggy taking a big chance by approaching a house...maybe he was originally looking in the car for money and heard Lucy come outside.
It really is amazing. This is in the middle of the English countryside, miles from anywhere...

Both Jane and Lucy are ok, but understandably a bit nervous. Although Lucy comes from Zimbabwe and had been tied up twice and hit over the head once..."but I didn't expect this in England!"....not at all part of her Carer's job description.

*  And Jane's health: she has to go into hospital later this month and have a polyp removal operation...supposedly a routine thing. But she is in her 80s and frail and very open to getting all sorts of killer viruses that lurk in dirty British hospitals. So we'll see.

*  And Yujiro has taken his relationship with Okaasan to a New Level: he got her to give a urine sample yesterday and took it along to the hospital! So they can test it and give her a health report. Bet he never thought he would be discussing such things with his mum....

Okaasan goes for a health check.

She did!
This morning Yujiro and Okaasan went to the local hospital with their health cards and got the free medical check-up.
She was happy to go, after a bath and some luandry washing...they finally got out of the house after 10 am.
I'm glad it worked an Okaasan will at least now have some medical file in the local health system for future events when they happen.

Meanwhile I went across the road for my weekly injection of hyalurionic acid in my knee. It felt so-so after my Monday and Tuesday classes, but okayish this morning. I almost didn't have the electric pulse treatment...and but did just to be safe...and then settled down on the clinic bed for my injection.
Looked at the beige wallpaper as usual as the nurse prepped the needle.
Looked at the wallpaper and made little squeaky sounds as the needle went in.
SHIT!
YGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
What the fuck did he hit?
It felt like the needle had plunged into the bone marrow.
The doctor apologised and then shot away to his next patient in the next room. (Japanese clinics have a strange conveyor belt system where the doctor pops back and forth into patient cubicles).
The nurse showed me out into the waiting room

I sat there and balled like a baby.
It hurt so much. It was such a shock.
Nurses rushed over with tissues. The doctor came back guiltily. More apologies: "My injection wasn't so skilled this week, your muscles tightened around the needle, sorry".
Yghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After 15 minutes of sitting wettly, I was able to stand and gingerlly walk to the reception to pay for the Shock Agony.
I have 3 more of these injections to go....

I got down to the street. Met Yujiro and Okaasan and went to the local good soup curry restaurant for a huge lamb and vegetable soup curry.
Came home and sat down, went to bed mid-afternoon. Weeded (sitting down) for 1 hour.

And that was Wednesday.

ADDED LATER

In all the agony - I AM a truly selfish person - I didn't write anything about Okaasan and the medical check-up. 

Well, really nothing to report. No big news. She is of course physically healthy. They had blood tests and the results will be ready on Friday. But I'm not expecting any big news. Yujiro said this check-up was just a battery of regular blood/urine/heart rate tests. In the few minutes each nurse would be with Okaasan she is just another old lady who chats about the same things a lot. Okaasan is pretty good on short conversations with strangers, and sometimes can do pretty normal longer conversations too - she isn't Lady Gaga yet.  (although I think the costumes would suit her...).