20th July 2007 - Dr Who?

I finally managed to talk to Dad's GP yesterday. His GP had wanted him to get an xray a few months ago, so I'd taken him - with the kids in tow - to get one taken. It took in total four and a half hours, with a demented father in a wheelchair bumping across a building site of a hospital and two very very bored weans. It was the first day of the Easter break and it was far from being their ideal way of spending it. Anyway, an appointment came through to follow up on the xray. This apointment was missed - the home never received a confirmation of the appointment time to let me know when to take him. His named carer phoned me to apologise for him missing his appointment - rather odd because I wouldn't have thought they'd have known he'd missed it if they didn't know when it was. She asked me if I thought there was any point in him going to the hospital and if I'd phone them and get a new appointment. I suggested that I'd phone his GP and find out what he was hoping to find out from the xray, what course of treatment the results might indicate - to see if it was worthwhile. I asked his GP's name and she told me she'd seen Dr yesterday and it was Dr Greg. I asked her if Dr Greg was a man or a woman and she confirmed he was male. It took a while to get through to the right GP when I phoned the practise, mainly because Dad's GP is Dr Grieve and she's female. The named carer's English isn't faultless and she'd obviously read the Dr's name wrongly, but I really wish she'd been honest enough to say that she didn't know who his Dr was. It would have given me more faith in her and her interest in Dad. But she didn't.

Dr Grieve obviously didn't know my Dad and thought it very odd that I'd query her. I explained that he also had dementia and she said "Oh, I suppose it would be a bit bothersome for you to take him to an appointment". Bothersome or not, I told her, I'd be happy to take him if there was a point but he'd been seen at hospitals at either end of the country and told, in no uncertain terms by the last incredibly unpleasant consultant that he'd have an infection in his arm for the rest of his life that could be controlled by a constant low dose antibiotic or he could take his arm off. He also said he didn't want to see him back there. The man really was obnoxious. He talked to Dad as if he was deliberately wasting his precious time, as if my Dad was a malingerer, some whinging hypochondriac who really should be greatful he had an arm at all. No recognition of the fact that his arm was in such a state partly because of the NHS treatment he'd received, the infection he acquired. He had made him move his arm to show the range of movement and pronounced that it was as good as he was ever going to get and what did he expect as his age. And what was he ever going to be doing at his age that would need more mobility than the 75% he'd got. At the time I was still a little in awe of medical types, but even then I managed to point out that it wasn't the range of motion that was the problem it was the fact that it would ooze puss and was very painful. That'll be controlled by antibiotics he snarled at me, and left.

Anyway, Dr Grieve took a few reminders to recall Dad, but once she did she softened a little. She told me that one of the 'other' Dr's had changed Dad's antibiotic and taken him off it on one occasion 'just to see how he'd get on' but that she'd note on his file that this shouldn't happen. She said that she didn't think there was any point because the request for the xray had been put in by one of the other Dr's and would only show up what we already knew. So I resolved to be tougher and more vigilant when the home call a GP and ensure that they don't fuck up his drug regime. I should have been more on top of this all along. Sorry Dad.

Earlier on in the week I'd spoken to his dentist. Dad's had a broken tooth for over a year and I kept asking the home to get a dentist to take a look at it. The dentist confirmed that the tooth was broken, and so were a number of others, he should really have the roots removed. He suggested that he'd just leave them and it wasn't really worth it - putting 'them' through the dental work. I asked the dentist if they'd be causing him pain and he'd said no, I asked if they'd be affecting his eating and he'd said no, so I agreed that there was no point in treating them.

No point in doing anything about his arm. No point in fixing his teeth. No point.