Becoming that roommate

 

I consider myself lucky.  I have only been admitted to the hospital once in my adult life. During my 3 day stay after my hysterectomy in 2008, I was in a room by myself.  I realize that this is a rarity and a luxury.

My husband ended up in our local community hospital (which no longer exists and is now townhouses) for nearly a week.  During his time there he had a roommate, an elderly man, who called out for his mother.  It disturbed my (soon to be) husband on many levels.

Both of my parents have been in and out of the hospital over the past several years.  During those stays they have consistently had the same two complaints; the quality of the food (no surprise there) and their roommate.

If we are honest, no one wants a roommate when they are in the hospital.  No one is ever at their best when they are hospitalized. (If they were they wouldn't be there.)  Most of us just want to be alone.  We want to be left to our own devices.  We want our own way.  With a roommate that is not going to happen.

That is especially not going to happen if the roommate is suffering from dementia or is confused due to medications or other issues.  It makes our own recovery more difficult.  It makes our own recovery more stressful.  No one wants this roommate.

My mother has been particularly vocal on that point.  I don't blame her.  You have so little control when you are in the hospital; it would be so much nicer if everyone could have their own room.  But we all know that is impossible.

My mother is in the hospital as I write this.  One of the things that makes this more difficult/stressful for me is that she is NOT complaining about her roommate.  She has become that roommate.

Although she has been in and out of the hospital several times since November of 2021, this was the first time that I was able to visit her in there.  In the past, she has been in and out before I had an opportunity to get down to see her.  Or Covid restrictions prevented me from going.  This time is different.  She has been in for over a week and moved from a regular room to a bed in CCU and now back to a regular room.  A regular room where she has a roommate.

When I went to see her over the weekend, she was asleep when I arrived.  Her roommate and her roommate’s spouse (or at least that's what I am assuming) were there along with a "watcher" (a person who just sits there and monitors the patient).  I could feel their eyes on me as I came in.  They continued their conversation, but due to the layout of the room there was no curtain to pull for privacy.  Instead I stood there, uncomfortably.

I spoke to my mother and eventually she awakened somewhat.  I talked and she would answer me with a one word yes.  Eventually she became more conscious and I was able to feed her a little applesauce that sat on the uneaten breakfast tray.  I also spoon-fed her some apple juice.

During this time, as she became more alert, she told me to get off of her right arm.  I wasn't on her right arm, but she insisted I was.  Her right arm was swollen and it was the arm in which she was getting a transfusion.  Her nurse came in and changed the transfusion to the left arm, and elevated the right arm.  

Because her temperature had been so low, they had heating blankets on her.  Now she said she was too hot and she wanted everything off of her.  She wanted to get up and go to the bathroom.  She was unable to comprehend that she could not get up and that she was in the hospital.  She was (understandably) upset and agitated at being unable to get up and use the toilet.  She wanted a bedpan (although she did not use that word) and did not understand that it was not necessary; that her bed had been set up so that she could simply go.  But she wouldn't and I understand why.  I understand her confusion and frustration.  I understand her anger and embarrassment.

I felt my own embarrassment for her.  She did not have privacy.  As she became agitated and upset; her roommate and could see it all.  Were they paying attention?  Probably not really, but it was impossible to ignore.  It hit me hard; the realization that my mother was now the patient that no one wants to room with.  It bothers me still.  I'm not exactly sure why it haunts me like it does, but it does.

I have tried and will continue to try to be a good daughter.  To support and calm my mother as I can, either in person or over the phone.  (She is not able to answer, but if a nurse or other staff member is around they can answer the phone for her and she will speak a little.)  I do it for my mom.  I do it for me.  And I do it for her roommate.

This is a difficult road to travel; for my mother and for her family.  No one has answers; do we even know all the questions?  What I do know is that I need to breathe in and out; to do my best to remain calm and supportive; for her and for myself.