The Greatest Love Story to date...

The weather in Stornoway has taken a turn for the worst.
The weather is absolute shite.
It's probably the worst weather I've seen in my four years in Scotland.
The wind is howling, the rain is pelting and the days are getting shorter and shorter.
I just hope that we can get off this island in 3 weeks time. The ferries to the mainland have been cancelled for the past 3 consecutive days.

I am now at the computers in the nurses library in the hospital doing a night shift. And there's nothign happening.
I just scare away all forms of emergency. sigh....das ist sehr schlecht.

Anyhoos, since I have the time whilst I'm waiting for the bleep to go either for somethign in A&E or a cardiac arrest, let me tell you about the greatest tale of love that I've experienced so far in this hospital.

The characters in this tale are M and C.

M is the sweetest old gentleman that I have ever met who is a long term resident in my dementia ward and C is his wife down in the medical wards.

They are both in their late 90s and they are both very unwell.

But along with that they are both still very much in Love.

When I first saw C during a medical ward round she was anxious and desperately telling the doctors that she wanted M back home with her and that she would look after him. She was desperately concerned for her husband's health stating that being in hospital would do him no good because he was an intelligent man who needed mental stimulation and that he would miss his gardening desperately. She was literally begging us to let her bring him home with her. And it was truly disappointing that we could not fulfil her wish.

On Saturday whilst on my night shift, we were called to see her on the ward as she was experiencing a panic attack. On arriving we saw this frail old lady, sitting upright in her chair, very cold to the touch, tachypnoeic and literally verging on hyperventilating and in between her gasps of breath she was saying '' I want to see him. Why won't they let me see him.''

3 days later on tuesday when I was on the medical ward doing some bloods, the nurses told me that she had suddenly demented over night and was now placed in a side room. But at night she still continues to moan, shout and cry. Regarding this, my registrar who uses the oncall room next to hers can vouch for.

Whenever I go onto the dementia ward to check on jobs to be done and to see my patients I always see M pacing up and down the hallway. With M, you can just stop and say hi to him and chat away and he will always have something to chat to you about or even teach you something new each day in gaelic. He is so sweet and gentle, he's just the perfect grandfather that any little child could ask for. But I suppose that for all the laughs and smiles he brings to us, our hearts go out to him whenever we see him wondering through the rooms and looking at each resident and asking ' Where is C? Where can I find her?'' or '' I'm waiting for C, but she doesn't seem to be coming''

To put all this into perspective, you have to add the medical implications to this tale.
C had a recent bout of infective endocarditis ( infection of the heart valves ) and basically her heart valves are all knackered and she is not fit for surgery. She is frail and doesn't have long to live. She cannot look after M even if she gets him home because she can barely manage to look after herself. Care packages will not be able to provide the 24h care that they both will eventually need.

M is severely demented. He needs constant monitoring otherwise he may just wander off and hurt himself. Although he is physically well for now, his mind and memories are rather jumbled. However, through this haze, the one thing that rings clear in his mind, is his C.

The nurses have been pushing for them both to be on the same ward. And I can see their point. These 2 have been together all their lives. And it is a right shame that we cannot let them be together in the final stages of their journey. The saddest and most infuriating of it all is that, by the time we get all the administrative and logistics sorted to get them in the same ward, C will most probably be dead or too ill for care on the dementia ward.

All it takes is compassion and sympathy and to let all this bureacracy and pushing of patient responsibility take second place in our patient mangement. It seems so strange that at the end of the day, all of us in this profession proclaiming care and compassion are seeming scared into submission by legalities and logistics and indemnity that even though our hearts know what is the APPROPRIATE thing to do, we let our minds guide us to do the RIGHT things.

A few days ago I was having my usual afternoon chat with M.

Me :"M, do you miss your garden at home?''
M : ..... " I miss watching my wife working in the garden.''

That would the most beautiful sight ever to see both of them in the garden together. But until we can overcome the weeds that have overgrown this bureatical healthcare system then perhaps can their little piece of heaven bloom.