A tough old lady

The last week has been difficult for me, but my problems are nothing when compared to what my 87 year old mother has been through.

Last Sunday (16th September) at about 6pm while walking from her kitchen to her living room my mother slipped on some water on her kitchen floor and as far as I can tell did a classic "prat fall" landing on her bottom.

She spent the next 19 hours on the floor.

She could crawl around using her elbows and dragging her legs behind her but she couldn't get up. She wasn't wearing her alarm button to call for help and she couldn't reach the phones. She managed to get some coats out of the cupboard under the stairs and used them to keep herself warm through the night.

Eventually at 1pm the next day a man called to deal with a wasp nest in her roof. He rang the doorbell but didn't hear my mother shouting for help. Fortunately he decided to get on with the job anyway and when he climbed his ladder at the back of the house he glanced into the kitchen and spotted my mother on the floor in the hall. He then went round to the front door again and this time heard my mother and she told him that she had fallen and couldn't get up. He alerted Peter the next-door neighbour and Peter called an ambulance and then, as he is an emergency keyholder opened the door and went and helped my mother.

The ambulance people were excellent and got my mother to her feet after checking there was nothing broken. They wanted to take her to hospital for a proper check over and an X-ray but my mother refused. She told them she didn't like hospitals, and she later told me that she could have gone to hospital in that state as she felt very dirty having been on the floor all night!

I wish the tale ended there, but my mother was very shaken up. I went over immediately I heard, and stayed with her on Monday and Tuesday and my brother Richard and his wife Carolyn took over looking after her until Saturday when I returned.

To start with she seemed OK, just a bit stiff and sore. But she was having real problems getting in and out of bed and was obviously in considerable pain. She was examined by several doctors over the week and she was prescribed paracetamol and ibuprofen as pain killers. These really didn't help her.

The District Nurse, Francis, an excellent chap from Hong Kong, suggested on Wednesday that my mother should go into a local old people's home for a couple of weeks. This suggestion was not well received. Nevertheless Francis contacted the Home and confirmed they did have a vacancy. Both Richard and I went down and checked the place out and it seemed to us to be fine.

Initially my mother would having nothing to do with the suggestion, but as time went by she realised she couldn't cope without having someone to look after her; to get her in and out of bed and up and down the stairs, and as she has no downstairs loo this was a frequent and important task. She gave in and agreed to give the Home a try, provided that she didn't go in until after her birthday on Sunday when she would be 87 years old. It was a good compromise.

When I returned on Saturday after a couple of days R&R I was surprised to discover that (a) my mother had taken to her bed (something she would only do in extremis) and (b) she was worse than ever.

I cannot describe here the hell of Saturday night - she was in so much pain. I called the out of hours doctor early on Sunday morning and we had a visit from a doctor at about 10am on Sunday. He thoroughly examined her for a broken hip and found nothing. He said she needed an X-ray in the not to distant future, but it wasn't urgent as he was sure she hadn't broken anything. He finally took my and my mothers claims of pain seriously when I said she was in 'screaming agony' and he quipped 'is she waking the neighbours then'. When I replied 'No, but she woke me last night with her shouts of pain' he suddenly took us seriously and the prescription was duly issued - for MORPHINE and DIAZAPAM! I was stunned but pleased too that he had finally given my mother something that could tackle the pain.

Once she had taken a diazapam her birthday really took off and we had an excellent day. My mother got lots of cards and presents and quite a few calls and visitors. Richard laid on an excellent lunch (though as usual my mother ate virtually nothing).

After the party was over and the last visitor had gone home my mother went back to bed, and despite the morphine and diazapam the nightmare of Saturday night was repeated on Sunday night. I was at my wits end by Monday morning. I phoned my sister Denise and she came round and helped me and my mother to get organised. Despite her protests Denise and I packed a suitcase and a few personal belongings and with a stony heart I delivered her to the Home.

Vi, the manager who had visited my mother on Thursday was shocked to see such a deterioration in my mothers condition. We got my mother to her room and Denise and I unpacked. Almost immediately there was a knock on the door and a nurse enquired if my mother wanted a cup of tea. To my surprise she asked for half a cup of coffee. To my even greater surprise she drank the full cup of coffee she was given and 2 biscuits. She then after I left had 2 more cups and 2 more biscuits and then even had the cornish pastie she was offered for supper - more food than she had eaten in the past 3 days I think.

She is settling in well - I have spoken to her and to Vi today. Vi has let her stay in her room and has "had a bit of a tussle about breakfast" but is insisting that my mother eats properly and is going to insist she dresses and socialises with the rest of the residents tomorrow.

Fingers crossed - but the old lady has surprised us all once again.

One thing I was once again forced to acknowledge is that my mothers perception of priorities is very different to mine. When I talked to her about her ordeal on the floor I was stunned to hear that at about 1am she had crawled into the living room and switched off the TV. When I asked her why she did that she said "I didn't want to disturb the neighbours". When I asked her why she didn't tip over the flimsy table in the living room that had a phone on it she replied "I was afraid of breaking the lamp".

Oh, and by the way, yes, she still is not smoking!