Morbidly Kritikal

What will you be your last outfit? I mean really- what would you want to be seen in on the day of your funeral?

I never thought about this up until I had to face the question myself. Two weeks ago, I lost my Grand father. He died in a shitty little hospital in the middle of the wheat belt, where no one really cared about him.

I went to see him as soon as I could when I was told he was in hospital after a severe stroke, and when I got there, I found him slouched in a hospital chair, with what I guess was the remains of his breakfast down the front of his Pajama top.

Considering that I had not seen him in a long time, and it was 11am, I found myself wondering why he was in this state. Since I had wandered into the hospital, already bracing myself for the very worst in regards to his health, I was quite stunned that his health and well being although of upmost importance (at least to me), was not in the least bit of concern to hospital staff. So let me begin to tell you the story of the way that my Grandfather died.

Of course I understand that in this day and age, using the true names of places and people will get one into 7 different kinds of trouble, so I will give the places and people different names, and to add an element of interest and intrigue to the sad tale, I will in fact be using either offensive or humorous names for them, this will help me remain light hearted, and keep this blog going.

And just for a bit of a disclaimer, they may or may not be nick names, or names that rhyme with the true names of the people or places that I refer to.

I knew well before hand that I needed to buy some new clothes for my grand father, who's name will be... Pop. That's fair don't you think? It's not far from the truth, and every one has a Pop/Grand Father etc... I digress.

So I purchased two new outfits for Pop, new toiletries, new socks and slippers. I was excited about seeing my dear Pop again, even though I knew he was getting to 90 and in bad shape from what I had heard so far. I also didn't want to turn up empty handed, so I also had some of what I remembered were his favorite treats, Aero Bars, and Ginger Beer!

So, I wander into the hospital, walk passed the reception area where a huddle of nurses were eagerly munching on chocolate cake, biscuits and drinking loads of hot tea. My initial thoughts were, 'Oh wow, they are so on top of their work load, that they have time to have a little break with their work mates!'. I was relieved at that moment, also because they were so warmly welcoming me into the hospital, even offering me a cup of tea.

Once I had been pointed in the direction of where Pop was, which was within only 30 feet or so from where they were, I quietly walked into the room bracing for the very worst. Pop didn't really recognize me immediately, but once he was clear on who I was, he began to ask a series of questions regarding my family members, which put my mind at ease that he in fact knew who I was.

Once sat  beside Pop, I grabbed a near by box of tissues to remove the remains of breakfast of which I previously mentioned. Once I was satisfied that he was tidy, getting all the crumbs from his pajamas, I began to show what I had bought him. He was very interested in the clothes I had bought him, but most of all, he was interested in the pictures of family, friends and pets I had for him! His favorite people in the whole world were always pets. So he was intrigued with the pictures of my pets, in particular my dog 'Truxter', he wanted to know everything about my dog, and I happily gave him every detail he asked.

After a few moments of time with Pop, a neatly dressed nurse came into the room, her hands full to the brim with paper work. She made no introduction- but made her motives for her appearance very clear. She would like me to sign paper work that would release all of Pop's assets to me, and also, would I please sign the paper work as soon as possible that will deny the hospital any right to resuscitate my Pop if anything should happen to him in the near future.

Well I was completely caught off guard, and had no intention of signing one damn thing, least of all even discuss what would happen if Pop suddenly died, since he was sitting in front of me in rather good health for a near 90yr old, who had just suffered a stroke! I had only been in the hospital less than 10minutes when all of this was suddenly thrust apon me.  I responded politely to the nurse that the paperwork would have to wait a few days, as my Mother was on her way and would be here to discuss paper work, and Pop's health. She seemed almost annoyed with that response and wanted to make it clear to me that it was of utmost importance the papers be signed asap.

Pop never made a will, he refused to. So of course as you can well imagine, there was quite a bit that needed to be sorted out asap, however, Pop seemed quite well and healthy enough to last a few more days till my Mother could arrive to sign said paper work and make further plans/decisions in regards to his health. 

Sadly, this was not to be. 

The next day, I left my hotel/motel room in a flurry of excitement because I wanted to get up early to get out walking in the country air, meet some locals, buy some ultra low fat milk and then get ready to visit Pop again. 

I practically skipped my way into the hospital with glee, it was about 10.30am, and I was ready to have a cup of tea and a treat with Pop. I was directed into the T.V room once again, since Pop loved T.V, they mostly plonked him in front of it, and in my Kritical way of thinking, I now see it that they used the T.V as a sort of Elderly baby sitter. 

I was disappointed to once again see my dear Pop in dirty Pajamas and bits of aero bar all over his fingers and down his pajama's. This time he was slumped so low in his chair, that I had to get help from a nurse at the reception desk to lift Pop up into an upright seated position. I reminded the nurse that he now had new clothes, toiletries, and shaving gear, to which she replied "Oh gosh, someone must have forgotten to tell me at handover!' In all honesty I was disgusted, and so angry that Pop had been left to slump in his chair like that, and it was obvious to me, that he was not being cared for. However, once the nurse had come to help lift Pop into the chair properly, offered me a cup of tea and a biscuit, of which I declined politely, I put it out of my mind and got on with listening to Pops great stories! That afternoon, I went back in to visit Pop, since I could only spend up to about 40minutes with him each time because he tired so easily, I made sure to get a few short visits in each day with him. 

The next morning, I knew it was the second last morning to visit with him, and even though I was so happy to see him again, I felt a little hesitant at what I might find today. I wandered in, to once again see Pop in crappy old pajamas, un-showered, un-shaved, and generally just like every day before. 

So I exclaimed quite loudly, as if speaking to a person that was losing their hearing 'Pop! You're still in your Jammies!'. A rude, round tubby, little bitch of a nurse came barreling into the room behind me, stating matter-of-factly, 'Well that's because he doesn't have anything to wear!.' Honestly her tongue dripping with venom.

Well I think I was a bit beyond it all at that stage, so I swung around on my feet to face her, and said in my I've-had-quite-enuff-off-this voice, 'Well he does have clothes to wear because I put them away in his room three days ago!'. To which she sheepishly said, 'Well, it wasn't in the handover notes.'

Now, let me tell you this. This awful little shit of a town has a population of about 300 and is a key agricultural centre for a district whose main activities are wheat and sheep farming. It has one road house, one pub (Which closes whenever the last drinker leaves), and one bank which opens when it's time for morning tea, and if you are lucky enough to get there before closing time, you might get afternoon tea. 

It is a town where man and beast both roam freely, you don't need to drive anywhere, just walk two blocks and you are at your chosen destination. I will name this town umm.. Helldinin.Kind of 'Hell', then 'Dinnin' This takes the word 'Hell' and combines with the last section of the true name of the town. Is that Fair? I think so.

The hospital has 5 beds to accommodate elderly patients, so in total, to my not so good maths skills, they only need to care for up to 5 elderly patients at any one time. Please forgive me if my numbers are out, I could be mistaken but I was certain that 5 beds equals 5 patients. Of course being a hospital, it does care for others as well, not just elderly, but just to give a breif overview of their work load, they only care for up to 5 Elderly patients at any one time. Count'em- 5. Can I make it any clearer? 5.
So with their mind bending work load, I cannot imagine how on earth every nurse was able to have morning tea at any and every time that I turned up at the hospital!
If you cannot read between the lines, or are unaccustomed to severe sarcasm, I will be brutally clear with what I am saying.
They have only 5 people in the wing to care for.
Every day I saw my Pop in the first three days, he was wearing dirty, smelly pajamas.
Every day I saw my Pop he was in need of a shower.
Every day I saw my Pop, the nurses were having morning or afternoon tea.
Every time I saw my Pop, the nurses seemed oblivious to the fact that he had perfectly good clothing to wear.
Every time I saw my Pop, I grew more and more hopeless that I could even help the situation.
Every time I saw my Pop, I was worried about what I was going to see next.

On the final day of my visit to Helldinin, I walked past the reception area, already knowing that it would be exactly as it had been the day before. I noticed that two nurses looked at each other and almost audibly sighed in relief. I understood that when I walked into the T.V room, to see my Pop sat up in his chair, nice and clean, shaved, showered, with a nice cup of tea and biscuits. Best of all to see him in the new comfy out fit I had bought for him. So, it was clear at that moment that the reason for the relief on the nurses faces was as if they had just said out loud, 'Oh we just did it in time.' As if they had only finished getting Pop ready for my arrival.
Because of the state Pop was in on the previous days, I had not taken any pictures of him, because I could not bare the thought of anyone seeing him in the state I saw him in. So, on the fourth and final day that I saw my Pop alive, I took a video capture of him on my mobile phone. It goes for a pinch over 7 minutes.
He looked so well, so colorful, so alive. He was talking, eating, breathing, story telling. It's hard to express exactly how good and alive he looked!
I had my visit with him, then told him that I was going home now to start planning a party for his upcoming 90th birthday, which all the family was to attend. I said to him as I left him there in that room, in front  of that T.V, 'I'll see you in a few weeks Pop, I can't wait!.' To which he replied, 'Alright love, see you soon, drive home safely.'
That was the last time I saw my Pop alive. A week and one hour later, he died in that shitty hospital. Surrounded by careless, negligent nurses, in borrowed, dirty pajamas.