Thursday night worked out in many ways.
I was able to get some sleep.
Dad slept through the night.
Our home aide made $160 to sleep in Dad's recliner.
However Friday morning didn't give any of us a break.
After I called in to both docs, they agreed Dad needed to be seen in the ER. I felt like I was in the dog house. I ran an errand in town and came back home and called the squad to come for what the docs call a non-emergency emergency transport.
Off we go to the hospital. They are short of beds and they put Dad in the back corner of a curtained hall. Thank goodness they had him on a bed alarm because he tried to escape several times out the bottom of the bed.
Dehydration was the big issue. We can't rule our TIA's, experience the nurse witnessed one right there in the ER. Addressing his refusals of food and fluid comes with his now being assigned a social worker. The group of docs, including his own, agreed he is in Stage 7.
Stage 7 Dementia brings with it all the other behavior traits of the previous 6, but with the added breakdown in physicality. Onward we go into the downward spiral of whatever is to come.
My sister and aide were just as much in awe as the squad drivers...when I go into Commander Mode I sound like General Sandie, lol
I enjoy talking with nursing and physician staff on their level. One thing that turns not only my stomach but my Bitch Switch as well is the condescending arrogance of a person assuming I don't understand the lingo...bitch, I received my PhD in medicine from the couch. fo- politely.
