Day 10: Lean on me - not!

Dad had 2 occupational therapists to help him this morning. They were teaching him how to shave and clean his dentures. They said he was doing OK. Unbalanced of course and a tendency to do everything with his right side. They asked me to bring in some of his own clothes. I don't know why I didn't think of it already. The bogey-green pyjamas he's been given are way too big and usually one of the popper buttons does not work properly (and usually it is the waistband).

At lunchtime, we went to the day room to try out some specialised utensils. It was a bit of a party actually with patient A (98 years old he told everybody) and patient Q (probably a third of that age) also partaking. The utensils are really very clever and so commonsense. For example, grip mats to stop plates sliding, thick handled knives and forks for unmovable hands, walls around plates to prevent mess.

In the afternoon I brought two of dad's old friends over to see him. They were just passing through London and were not expecting to see my dad in the hospital. Dad was quite perky with them and smartly dressed. We met up in the hospital canteen - for some reason I didn't want them to go upto the ward.

I smuggled up some pizza for dad's dinner. Afterwards, just as a friend was visitng patient Q opposite, dad said very loudly "I can't control my bowels!" I quickly entailed the help of a nurse to get him wheeled to the loo, then watched over him as he did his business. Job completed, I then tried to help dad back into the wheelchair. At the same time as he was standing up and leaning on me, the wheelchair's brakes were not fully on. I was shouting 'wait! wait!' as he moved towards the unsteady chair with me trying to support his deadweight and then the next thing I knew, he was slipping from me and he slowly tumbled to the floor.

The toilet floor is pretty hard and cold. He banged his leg and hip but was okay. The nurses helped me get him up again, but he was rushing and grabbing at the wheelchair, not listening to our instructions which just brought me to tears. "Come on," the nurse said, "it doesn't help." So I pulled myself together and we got dad back into bed.

"Don't worry, meimei," he whispered. "I won't tell your mother or she will get angry."