My mom picked me up at the train station at noon and we drove to St Joseph's. She was a wreck last night and called me 10pm and asked me to come and stay over tonight, so that's what I planned for. We couldn't get a parking space in front of the ctr so she dropped me off with several bags and parked the car elsewhere, meeting me upstairs.
My dad was in the dining hall and I brought him back to his room, which he wanted and helped him into his bed. He' s not supposed to use a walker yet until the occupational and physical therapist are sure he can do so on his own without falling (which would be a disaster because he's taking cumiden (the blood thinner). But he stood up from the wheelchair and sat on the bed. My dad was talking and told me he had therapy. He wants out NOW and he made that quite clear but I told him that he had to be physically stronger and able to take care of himself before he could go home.
As soon as my mom came up, I went to find the three therapists to discuss their evaluations and the plan for his therapy and explain to them what he was like before the stroke (except for his speech, not much different but very stubborn and impatient.
Therapy was on the first floor so I went there my notes (thank you Ellie) and introduced myself to the receptionist and told her what I wanted. She got the occupational therapist for me and we had a very good discussion. Then the physical therapist came out and it turned out it was Monica, who was there on Sat.--but she won't be there after today as she was a temp. The speech therapist, Ann was at lunch but I was told she'd come up to talk to me and my dad and my mom later.
I also decided to see if I could talk to a social worker about my mom's handling of my dad's illness (she's someone I've always thought of as being pretty together but has been fallin apart from worry, lack of sleep, and basically the fact that NO ONE at St John's or St Joseph's has bothered to have a discussion with her about anything with regard to my dad (other than the asshole Dr S-her own soon to be ex-doctor who told her that my dad had dementia and would not get much better). No one talked to her when my dad was discharged from the hospital and no one talked to her when he was admitted to St Joe's. The aides at St Joe's don't know anything and are intermittently helpful but overall seem poorly trained to interact with patients. The head nurse seems good --the therapists, who really are the most important part of the equation here seem topnotch. Anyway, I talked to the social worker for about 15 minutes and told her my worried about my mom and asked if she could come see her. She had a meeting right then and said she's try to come up later but hadn't by the time my mom and I left for the day. I'll try again tomorrow.
Anyway, when I got upstairs, my mother said my dad had been talking up a (totally comprehensible) storm, telling her what he had for lunch--all weekend he had chicken and rice, which he loates, and hardly ate. But today he told her how good the cod fish was, etc. Ann, the speech therapist came and met with my dad, my mom, and me in the common room--oh, one thing the social worker told me that I figured would convince my parents that my dad wasn't going to be stuck in the rehab center forever was that the 5th floor is for short term patients. Hallelujah. That finally registered. Ann confirmed (my dad had said as much but not quite as clearly) that she had been with him about an hour this morning--half an hour at a time and says his speech should come back completely. She explained some of what she would be working on with my dad and I tried to get him to listen to what she was saying so he knew what would be happening. The fact that all three therapists are women will definitely push him to work harder. And I told them all to push him and explain that he MUST do the physical therapy in order to stay strong enough to remain independent. He just doesn't "hear" me when I say that.
He'll be seeing the three therapists five or six days a week. Monica, the physical therapist said she tried to get him to walk and simultaneously count 1-20 forwards and backwards by 2s. He can't do that yet).
We stayed later than usual --till about 3:30.
Anyway, my mom and I are both exhausted--but she feels MUCH better after meeting with the speech therapist. And I'm really pleased by how things are improving.