As I ponder the events of the last week, words escape me at times. I cannot believe that I spent the last week at a hospital- again. At times, I don’t even know how to verbalize it. At times, I don’t even want to talk about it and want to blot it out of my memory. It often felt eerily similar to the summer events with my mother.
The week definitely was filled with ups and downs. When my brother told me he had to be in Chicago for the day on Wednesday, I thought, “No biggie!” I drove to the hospital, entered my dad’s room to find him sitting up eating breakfast. It seemed like a good sign. However, it soon changed. The nurse noticed his low blood pressure as well as his unresponsiveness. A flurry of medical personnel entered his room. “You need to call your brother NOW!” a nurse informed me. My heart pounding, I tried to contact him, but he was unavailable. I stood in the doorway, unable to process the events. “Broken heart syndrome”, the doctor explained. Your dad is severely dehydrated and also experiencing some heart challenges.” I never really believed in this diagnosis, although I have heard of it. She nodded her head. “It is medically proven”. Thankfully, the large quantities of fluid allowed his blood pressure to improve. Even though we hoped he would be discharged earlier, he was finally allowed to head back to Royal Park on Friday. But where would he go?
Because my father fell during the night, the next best place would be some type of assisted living. We quickly decided that Royal Park Atrium Inn would be the easiest because it is located in the same complex and connected to his condo via hallways. It sounded so effortless- just pack up a few clothes and help him get into his new room.”Are you okay with this?” my brother asked. “It should be rather simple. It would be a type of transitional housing until he fully recovers.” However, I don’t think I would characterize it as simple or effortless.
Upon arrival, we were met by administration and the admitting nurse. The nursing staff needed to evaluate him for the type of level care needed and administration needed me to fill out paperwork. Upon entering his room, I felt a sense of dread. The fluorescent lighting, single bed in the corner without a comforter, and the brown carpet left little to be desired. Where are my HGTV friends in times like this? The nurse instructed me on the items needed for my father: twin size comforter, water bottle, prescriptions, his walker, the toilet seat. the list seemed to go on and on. “Does your dad wear Depends?” she asked. “Where are the prescriptions they dispensed in the hospital? What about the new one prescribed?” What pharmacy does he use? The unrelenting questions about medications made me want to crawl in a hole. After the meeting and my list of duties, I met with the administrator where I signed endless papers: photo release, tornado plan, field trip permission form, ETC. ETC! My signature, once neat and slanted, rapidly became a messy scrawl. An hour passed.
I looked at the clock and realized that I needed to complete the most important part of the afternoon: making sure that my dad’s room made him feel comfortable. I maneuvered a borrowed cart down the halls, but I kept going in circles, much to the delight of the residents. ” I think I just saw you,” a resident commented. “Where are you going?” Feeling silly but laughing at myself, I answered and one kind woman led me through the hallways to my father’s condo. Once inside, I realized the enormity of the task. Moving AGAIN! What tables should we use? What items should I bring so he feels comfortable? After many trips back and forth, I managed to create somewhat of a comfortable atmosphere. Remembering the podcast I listened to about decorating tips, I made sure to place his plants in a prominent location. I angled his recliner and the wingback chair so it provided a good conversation spot. The focal point is the window that allows you to look out upon the inside atrium. This truly is the genius spot of Royal Park. Filled with an array of plants and waterfalls, this definitely will help anyone recover.
My brother and his wife, who joined me later to encourage my father and view his new surroundings, thought the room was wonderful. My brother reminded me that my dad doesn’t care how the room looks, but I secretly disagreed. No pictures are allowed on the walls since it is transitional housing. I wondered if I could add some fabric. Or what about a wall tapestry held by Command hooks? I could take Corey’s world map tapestry. Mentally, I reminded myself to ask the administrator. I would also like to add pillows for comfort as texture is an important component of any room. I might also bring some nature items like pinecones, a definite Michigan connection.
A bright spot in the day was the arrival of dear Lois. While transporting my dad’s items, I knocked on her door and told her of my dad’s move. She made it a point to come to the Atrium to see my dad. We enjoyed many good laughs as we sat in a circle. It definitely provided encouragement at the end of a long day.
As I left Royal Park, I glanced at the water spout that greets all visitors. It reminded me of the blessings that continue to flow, despite the challenges.
A Journey Worth Remembering 