Hospitals are such depressing places...

... and when the person you're visiting is a depressing person the experience is doubly soul destroying :o(

My Nan has suffered from two small and one medium stroke and has been in hospital for three weeks now. She seems to be getting worse instead of better and is content to just fester in her bed without putting even minimal effort into getting better and going home (although she is very vocal about what's not going to happen!) Three different women have been discharged from her ward since she was admitted, but all she is prepared to do when asked to do anything - regardless how small - is say "I can't" without even trying *sigh*

It's sad to watch someone just give up... I know she's 89 but to see a woman formerly so robust sit in bed and wet and soil herself without caring just drains me (of energy and also patience). Demoralising isn't the word :o(

Sorry to be a bit of a downer, I just don't know what to say to her anymore to make a difference. I've been gentle, harsh, kind, cruel, sharp, cajoling, patient, impatient - and now I just don't know what to say to her. My visits involve me sitting in a chair in virtual silence once the subjects of her meals, my meals, the journey, the weather, the other people in the ward and whether anyone has phoned to ask how she is, have been discussed. She doesn't like people laughing or making jokes and is quick to scold those that do with "it's not funny" or "don't laugh" and the way it's said quickly wipes any smiles away. Luckily I'm not alone during visits as Mum and Dad are with me, sometimes my youngest uncle, too, when he get get away from work. Without them all there as well I would probably go barmy!

I just worry how all this will affect my Dad (who suffers from depression himself). In turn that makes me anxious and nervous which doesn't help my digestive system which is not strong at the best of times. Mum is suffering from stress as well and for the first time in years the eczema on her legs has flared up and it looks like her leg ulcer could be returning as well (she's desperately trying to stop that before it starts). The extra walking is beginning to hurt Dad as he suffers from dreadful arthritis (and I swear the dreadfully uncomfy chairs are responsible for my current back pain).

We used to visit every day, but there seems little point if there is no positive change. Now we go every other day so that Dad can rest himself (and most 'off' days he spends asleep as it just takes so much out of him).

All told I just feel a bit dejected at the moment.

Thoughts about my Dad and depression

My dad is the kind of guy that you can't reason with (to try is akin to smashing your head against a very well built brick wall). Being stubborn is a trait that is elevated almost to an art form in this house. Regardless of what happens, though, I am determined not to follow the pattern as dictated by my fraternal genes (depression has been passed down from my grandmother to my father, and it stops right there!). I point-blank refuse to become a depressive person... I couldn't do that to my mum. We have a tendancy to cling to each other in adverse situations, and without each other we would probably both go insane, LOL!

I also know just how easy it would be to give in... some days I am just so very tired, but I've started blogging and writing a journal and it's really helping me to get the thoughts out and discuss them (just pulling them apart myself is enough, most of the time).

The first time my dad had a nervous breakdown that I can remember (he first did it when I was about six months old) I was totally devastated, my heart literally broke. To see the strong, tough man that I once knew, sitting in a chair and staring at nothing (after being sectioned for trying to commit suicide with an od of sleeping pills) is an image that I can never forget. That was 11 years ago. I was 21, what a welcome to adulthood, lol!

The second time he ended up in hospital was about 4 years ago. Since then he's been "officially" retired and claiming his state pension... and does virtually nothing. Very sad. But then he'll come in to the kitchen, like just now, and you'd think that nothing was the matter... it's baffling, to be honest.

I've learnt to cope, somewhat, by never letting people get in, to never let my guard down, so to speak. It gives the impression that I'm fairly cold and unfeeling, but it's the direct opposite, really. The people that know me fully understand that it's my way of coping so they let it slide. We all have our ways of dealing with things, but after months of crying and moaning I came to the conclusion that all I was doing was upsetting myself even more than dad did. Not very productive, lol.