Another Night Staring at The Ceiling

"Another night staring at the ceiling." That's what Lyle said to me as I left his room at the Casey hospital on Monday afternoon, January 22. It's been a long haul for him. It was December 6 when he left home in the ambulance for Dandenong hospital. After a week or so there, he had the brain haemorrhage operation at Monash, another stint in Dandenong, and now the last few weeks at Casey.
During the six weeks his condition physically and emotionally has fluctuated, but for the most part he's maintained a positive attitude despite physical rehabilitation not being achievable.
Elvie, Meredith and myself have run the emotional gauntlet with him over this six weeks, dealing with hospitals, doctors and social workers, and driving regularly to visit on a rotating shift, muchly helped by Meredith's amazingly resilient and practical daughters, Annie and Rosie.
On Thursday last week we (Elvie, Meredith, Rosie and myself) visited nursing homes looking for an available and suitable high care bed so that Lyle can move into residential care. We found one, much to our relief, at Salisbury House, Upper Beaconsfield, where Lib works, and booked it. It's the worst room in the place but is temporary till a good one is available.
Lyle's ACAT assessement was scheduled for Monday which is why I was at the hospital, a close relative being required to witness his signature on their form, or sign for him if he couldn't. He was assessed as in need of high care which would give the green light to his move as soon as the paper work was faxed around. Salisbury House was at the ready for his admission on any day. The social worker, Virginia, was happy we had already found accomodation as she said the hospital wants them out quickly once they've been assessed. She told me it would probably be Wednesday morning, today. Alas Virginia rang yesterday saying the doctors feel he's not well enough to move, there's a problem with his lungs, fluid, and also his left ventricle is playing up, which is not a new thing.
Poor old Lyle would be disappointed. On Monday when I saw him he was accepting of his move into residential care and looking forward to it. He has pressure sores and has had enough of the cold clinical hospital atmosphere. There's little encouragement there now that his rehab has failed and he knows he needs a new social environment. I felt proud of him, he said he had always been an outgoing person and he would fit in and not cause any trouble. The pep talk I'd prepared wasn't necessary. It was if he'd received it telepathically during the night, when I'd lain awake, running it through my mind almost in rehearsal.
So we wait, and hope. We feared he would hate moving into a nursing home and that it would crush him, and here he is champing at the bit, but not well enough to go. What cruel irony.