Yoga to the rescue

I was feeling a bit frazzled this morning – copying John, obviously – and so it was a great relief to go to Yoga class this morning. Chair yoga sounds dead easy, doesn’t it? But it can be as challenging as any other type of yoga, so I enjoyed each challenge presented this morning – but was particularly grateful for the breathing exercises. Very, very calming and just what I needed.

Just before I went to class, the pharmacy from the hospital phoned up to go through all of John’s medication. We got to the last one their list. Hmmm……. where was the tranquiliser? “One drug you haven’t mentioned,” I said, “is the Larazapam that the GP prescribed last week.” Well, no… she hadn’t mentioned it because it wasn’t on her list. Oh. That wasn’t good. “Does that mean John won’t have had that drug yesterday then?” I asked. Yes, it did mean that John hadn’t had the drug yesterday. Oh, heck.

I was not best pleased. John had been anxious yesterday and three times I had asked whether he had had the tranquiliser. Three times they told me he had. Of course, I should have got them to show me proof on the drug list, shouldn’t I? But you don’t think of that at the time. You just trust them and expect that they know what they are doing.

Anyway, Andrew had been home for the weekend and went back today so, after I got home from yoga class, I squeezed him tight and said my goodbyes to help him on his journey home, before speeding off to the hospital to see the ol’ man.

Oh, my goodness. What a state he was in. Pouring with sweat and in mental torment. I went to see the staff to ask them to give him the tranquiliser. At first, they demurred, suggesting it hadn’t been written up. Ha! I soon put them right. Ten minutes later they came along with said pill and administered it.

The drug helped, but didn’t fully do the trick and John remained anxious for most of the afternoon one way and another. However, the drug did help him have a bit of a much-needed doze. He had hardly slept overnight and had been thoroughly distressed by all the comings and goings in the ward.

The ward is a medical assessment unit. A transitory ward where people arrive in crisis among a flurry of high level, bustling and loud activity – and then depart in similar fashion. There had been a hope that John would be moved to a respiratory ward, but no. It’s unlikely to happen apparently, as there are other patients who are higher priority. It looks like John will stay in the ward he’s in and have to suffer the permanent shifting sands – upsetting to his mental health though it is.

Paul came and visited, and that helped a bit – especially as he was able to sort out John’s laptop, which had been misbehaving. At 7 o’clock I left John, thinking he’d sleep and perhaps have a better evening.

I popped in to see the Kenilworth Newbies, who fed and watered (wined) me before I took myself home. I arrived about a quarter to nine. I had just got through the door when John phoned in a high state of panic.

He wasn’t sure what was happening; he wasn’t convinced they would offer him the tranquiliser during the ten o’clock drug round; he didn’t feel well; he was hot/cold/hot/cold/sweaty. He’d rung his bell but no-one came; he’d rung it again and someone did come, but went away, saying “I’ll check…” and didn’t come back. Oh dear, oh dear.

Thank goodness for yoga. While we waited for a nurse to turn up we adopted the yoga breathing exercise I’d been doing this morning. “Concentrate on your inner eye, John,” I encouraged.

We were at it for an hour. The 10 o’clock drug round arrived and the nurse listed all the drugs he was going to have. Yep – they were all there. Oh, Lord, I do hope they help him overnight. It’s so, so exhausting to be in such a panic for hours on end and no-one coming to help.

Positive thoughts, healing vibes, prayers – all very much needed please!

Take care everyone. God bless.