Day 4: Be-stockinged

The consultant was back from his holiday so we requested a quick word after his rounds. He was a fairly hard-nosed, self-important chap who nevertheless took the time to answer our questions. Yes, Dad had had a stroke, but not a severe one. The brain scan had shown a tiny part of his brain had been affected. He should make a good recovery. And why hadn't we made our July 10th appointment? The last question was said with just a little annoyance. We explained how inefficient their 'notification' process had been.

My mum had been dying to practise some acupuncture on dad and the consultant was neither for nor against it. So she had the go-ahead.

Dad had a physio session where a nice friendly physiotherapist strapped a thick belt round dad's waist and then supported him while dad walked lopsidedly down the corridor. It was fantastic to see him moving. His left arm though was tougher work. Dad screwed his face up with the effort of trying to lift his arm.

Dad was exhausted, but there were more fun and games. We wheeled Dad down to the other side of this enormous hospital for his neck scan. This tells you how blocked up the arteries are on the sides of your neck. The results were not given to us.

In the afternoon, a chirpy young occupational therapist spoke to mum. She was responsible for helping dad do the normal, everyday things that he could do before the stroke, e.g. washing, dressing, making tea etc.

He was also dressed with thigh-high special stockings which promote the flow of blood. Like the kind of flight socks you can buy to help prevent clots forming in DVT. It's part of - well, I hesitate to use the word 'experiment', so - survey that dad has agreed to take part in. The advantage of participating is that he can have two leg scans done to check all is OK down there.

Dad was very snoozy. He hated the nights at the hospital with fellow patients sleep-talking or groaning and flourescent lights on. He didn't like the night nurses at all - they wouldn't help him take a leak. He explained that the night before, he had managed to prop himself on the bed and use the urine bottle. We thought this was a terrible idea - he wasn't steady on his feet at all and could easily fall. We voiced our concerns to the nurses about to come on night duty. "Oh it's fine!" they breezily announced. "This is a rehabilitation unit, they're supposed to do everything themselves!" But it's only like the fourth day? "Don't worry!"

With tears in his eyes, dad waved goodbye to us at the end of visiting hours.