My father had a stroke last Wednesday. He is only 59 years old and has worked as a joiner since the age of 16. The risk factors for him were present - long term smoker, heavy drinker and father dying of a CVA when he too was 59. I spend my working life doing lifestyle councilling - testing cholesterol, blood pressure and lecturing men about reducing their risk factors for CHD. Ironic really - my dad told me to bugger off when I tried to lecture him about smoking and drinking. Ten days ago he was tiling a roof, whinging about Tony Blair. Now he is alone in a side ward, unable to speak with no movement down his right side. What a cruel world.
I'm finding it very strange to be on the other side, watching the nursing and medical care. I visited him at 1800 last night to find him sitting in his little room staring at the wall. The nurses had kindly closed his door and shut the curtains, so the only stimulation for this youngish (To me) man was a magnolia wall. Having been a joiner all his life, my dad would be sitting there studying the door hinges, wandering how on earth he had gone from roofing a house to sitting in a chair, dependant on the nurses for everything.
Despite ten years nursing, I don't know much about strokes. I work in non clinical occupational health and have been away from the NHS for many years. From what I understand, he could recover some speech (I would give up all of my teeth if I thought this would help him).
I made the mistake of reading up on his condition on the internet. I read that for every three people who have a stroke, one will be dead within the year, one will recover fully and the other will recover with some disability. Looks like a lottery to me - he has as much chance of being back on his roof in 12 months as he does not being here at all.
Personally, this has massive impact. I think there is a big chance he is going to need care and there is no-one but me available to give it to him. How can I let a 59 year old man go into a nursing home? Perhaps the medicine will have to stay on the backburner. It is early days though - fingers crossed he makes a good recovery.
poem
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* Playing House*
We didn’t play house as children
Because that was the grown up’s game
And we didn’t like the way of the grown ups
Which was always the...
1 week ago
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