My doctor died and I’m really sad

I had this great doctor. He helped me get through a very rough and frightening time. And he died. Suddenly. Like I saw him a couple of weeks ago and have a prescription in my purse suddenly. When I got the letter from his office I thought maybe I had an overdue bill or something.

All those things that people write for condolences, saddened, shocked, I really feel that. He’d been someone I knew I could go to with my health issues. He’d made me feel like we were partners in my health care. He was kind, conscientious and a little bit weird. Just my kind of person.

This is the first time I’ve felt this way about someone I wasn’t related to. I’ll find another doctor, but I won’t find another him.

Agitation

Was sitting out on the patio last night relaxing. Wonderful Spouse was on the phone talking to his mom. A rather lengthy conversation regarding vegetarian cooking.

I went inside for a moment and my phone was ringing. It was Mom asking me to take her to the hospital. Dad was in a high state of agitation and had resorted to throwing things. I went and got Mom and we went to the hospital. He wasn’t actually that bad when we got there. Relatively quiet, although quite annoyed.

His sense of time is totally distorted. He thought Mom hadn’t been to visit in days, though she’s gone twice a day minimum every day since he got there. He also thought he’d been left alone for a long time, so he took a can of nutrition shake and threw it at the window. My instant cure for that was to take the cans of stuff off his bed table and put them out of reach.

Poor Mom looks like she’s reaching the end of her strength. The nurse told her that they like to call a family member when patients get agitated because it gives them someone familiar to reassure them. I asked that they not call her at night unless it’s an emergency. I then told Mom about what I’d said so that she wouldn’t think that I was being too high-handed. They’d recently moved him to the long term care wing and I don’t know if the staff knows how often Mom is there.

Dad is really getting tired of the whole deal. People come in and do things to him at all hours of the day and night; usually painful things. He doesn’t know who they are and often has no idea of what they’re doing.