Friday, November 1, 2019

What happened to October 2019?

It came and it went. Even my autobiography got shoved aside. Monday, September 30th, I started teaching a new ESL student, referred to me by my previous ESL student. Luz comes twice a week, Wednesdays 10 to 11, and Fridays 4 to 5. Today, somehow, she didn't show up. Could have been because of the changes from October 24th to 31st. I had to cancel the Friday and Wednesday of that week. More about that in a few minutes. So, the ESL tutorials account for a "loss" of two hours a week writing time.

Much of my time was taken with preparing to go to the Surrey International Writers' Conference, October 24th to 27th. Not the writing I'd hoped to take with me, or to prepare to do there, just preparing to leave my husband alone for seven days. I wanted to have some "me-time" after the conference, stay with friends until the end of the month. Not doing that again. I was leaving on Thursday, October 24th and coming back on October 31st, flying home on my broomstick.

But first I had to arrange for someone to check in on my 86-year-old crippled husband once a day, help him get his shoes on if he wanted to go out, make sure he had his medicines, and at least make a sandwich for him for his lunch. Interior Health (the regional health service for this part of the province of British Columbia) assured me that a visiting nurse would come every morning between 9am and 11am. They pledged to do "dress assist" and "medicine assist" and "meal assist". We would pay $31 (and change) per hour or $72 per day whichever was less. I'm just waiting to see what the bill will say when it comes. Because: over 7 days, 6 "nurses" came (one came twice) but none of them were nurses. They were "care support workers". So--Frank attempted to be up every morning with at least most of his clothes on. Not once did any of these "workers" offer to put on his shoes. When he asked them to give him his morning pills, one of them (the one who came twice) didn't know how to open a blister pack, and when she checked with her supervisor, she was told not to give him any of his medicines. The second time she came, she had mastered the mysteries of the blister pack but would not set the Victoza pen to the correct dosage. Frank managed to get her to let him know when he had clicked to the correct dosage, so that was okay. (He's legally blind, so he can't see the numbers on the pen.)  All six women objected to giving him Tylenol-for-arthritis. Only one actually did give it to him because she reasoned that it was an over-the-counter medicine. But he had to promise not to tell on her as she wasn't supposed to. Because she wasn't a nurse. WE WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE NURSES. He's also supposed to have hydromorphone, but there was no use asking for that. As a result, he spent the week in pain because we didn't have nurses. Meal assist? One woman made him a peanut butter sandwich, but that was while I was still there and I told her to. One peanut butter sandwich was supposed to last him for seven days? Too much to ask that he be given one peanut butter sandwich every day for seven days? There were also half a dozen dinners from "meals on wheels" that the surveillance nurse said could be heated up for him. I still have all those dinners in the freezer in exactly the same spots that the MOW volunteer put them the day after I left. So, $31 an hour? Not one of these women stayed even 15 minutes, let alone the hour we were promised. What do you bet they try to charge us $31 X 7 days of "service"? Seven hours of nothing. But they're the government. However, when I mentioned to someone that I planned to write a letter of complaint, my friend suggested I send the letter to the newspaper. I think I will. As soon as I get that bill.

He did cope pretty well. Our son, Steve, came over several times, and helped him. They had meals at restaurants. They even went shopping and Frank cooked a big pack of sausages and had sausage sandwiches every day for supper. One night he added fried eggs. When I got home I was amazed that he hadn't created a bigger mess than the one that greeted me on my arrival. Next time I leave him alone, he's going into a respite centre whether he wants to or not.


No comments: