17 July 2020
When I became ill, I was collected from my flat and taken to hospital. The clothes I had been wearing were removed, so all the time I was in hospital I just wore a nightgown.
I was moved to a Care Home, so a friend brought me some clothes from my home, but when it became time to move me to a different Care Home a while later all my personal items were put in plastic bags and taken to the ambulance. Except the bag containing absolutely all my clothes simply disappeared. So all I had to wear were the clothes I was wearing. As a result, a friend had to go out and buy new clothes for me, but with many shops shut as a result of Covid, that wasn’t easy. I complained and over the next few days some clothes were found, but each time none of them were mine. My own clothes were never found.
Care homes provide a laundry service and at the first one this worked well, but on being moved again I lost a few items. Where I am now the plan is for my clothes to be marked, probably with my name and perhaps my room number, so that problem will not occur again.
I had been taking regular medication since my first epileptic fit in 1973, so I was well used to taking tablets on time and ensuring I had regular stocks of all the items. When I was moved recently from one Care Home to another, I had a call from a close friend to say that the old Care Home still had some of my tablets at the old place. I was assured that sufficient tablet stocks were at the new place but I then was advised a few days later that this was not the case! The manager of this Care Home wasn’t happy but went and got tablets for me. It meant I took my morning doses late that day, at around 11:00am.
I was also advised that I could now leave the room and join the other inmates for my lunch, which I did. It was the furthest I had walked in over three months. During lunch I saw how dementia affects different folk. One lady clearly didn’t want to drink all of the juice she had been given, so carefully got a napkin, folded it and poured some of the juice she had been given into the napkin. I realised it gave the appearance that she had drunk more juice than she really had! I am sure the carers saw what she had done though.
Afterwards I sat in the tv lounge for an hour or so, then I returned to my room. I was a bit tired. As a result I had my tea in my room and rested as usual. Over the next few days I continued doing this, one day sitting in the gardens for a while. The sun was lovely and hot, I’d not been in the fresh air for such a long time. I was really weary at the end of each day but I slept well and was slowly feeling stronger.
I also had a chat with a nurse in the home about how I was coping mentally. Back in the hospital I was quite emotional at times but now I was feeling more settled with how my life was. I was chatting with a few people and having a laugh at things. For a while it seemed I had lost even myself, but I was back – I had found myself again.