That was the weekend that was

A bit of a manicy panicky one.

Got a phone call on Thursday evening from my sister letting me know that my Dad had passed out in the street and been taken to hospital. She’d spoken to the people there and he seemed fine and they planned on letting him out in the morning. A little bit concerned, but nothing too out of the usual and he was fine so that was good.

Friday morning and my sister calls again. Dad woke up disoriented and they diagnosed blood on the brain. More worrisome. Left work after lunch and drove straight to the hospital. Lots of waiting around for doctors (half the blood results were back), dad wheeled off for a “heart scan”, pacemaker was checked. Is he staying is he going home? Finally admitted for another night, moved to another ward. More contact details taken, plan to send him to a different hospital in the morning to get the dialysis he missed Friday morning.

This morning, call from the nurse I had spoken to the previous night who was going off duty and wanted me to know that my Dad had fallen again in the night (I think this is what she said, mobile reception at my Dad’s place is rubbish) but no new injuries and the Dr was reviewing him. Called the ward again a couple of hours later to check whether the transfer was still on, it was, new nurse reported breakfast being eaten and him being fine.

Transfer scheduled at 12:30 so I decide to go across to hospital number 2 (and ward number 3) at 14:00 to allow settling in time. Get there, he’s not arrived yet. More waiting, he arrives, sister arrives, we go to grab something to eat to allow them to hook him up. Get back and he’s been moved, but only to the next room over.

More sitting around, lovely nurse, questionnaires. Finally the Dr. Going to start up the dialysis and keep him in “a couple of days”. Back to regular levels of coherency etc. Get a list of things to bring back and head off on a car hunting trip.

The initial report was that he had collapsed at the shops, the one he frequents most being Morrisons. Friday night I drove around their carpark but no joy (not helped by not knowing the reg). Found out reg and went back Saturday evening. No sign. Asked inside if they knew of it being towed. No. How about checking their accident book to see if this was the shop he was picked up from. Can’t find it, left details and went to check out another couple of likely locations. Found it outside his club (huzzah). Had my sister drive my car home and I drove my dads. Picked up stuff (all visible medicines and extra clothes) then back to the train station to drop sister off (she’ll drop into the hospital tomorrow – visiting hours are late afternoon) and the drive back to Bristol.

Time for pizza.

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