As I arrived at the hospital, they had already admitted Fran into a private room in the ER. I made my presence known and was told to wait in the lobby for an ER doc to speak with me.
I was not allowed to go back and see her; her blood pressure was so high that they were trying to keep her calm, with no visitors.
After many hours waiting, an ER nurse came out to give me an update. Essentially, they were going to release her; I was to wait until they finalized the paperwork and then take her home.
I was stunned, and I immediately began to explain that I had many videos of her strange behavior, that I feared for her and me.
I emphasized that she lived in a senior community and could come and go as she pleased; it was unsafe and unacceptable. I begged him to take my phone and show the doctor the videos.
He looked sympathetic but did not yield. I could not comprehend what I was hearing and continued to press my case. I was not going to accept no.
Lesson one when dealing with hospitals and doctors.
The ER nurse agreed to see a few videos (I had many), and he was convinced I might be onto something. More time passed until he finally came back out and said they agreed; she needed to spend the night for observation.
I was relieved, tired, and scared. I had some part of the evening to sort out what I could do. My search for a psychiatrist was futile. Every geriatric shrink was either out of business or could not see her for months.
As I slowly calmed down so I could get a few hours of rest, my phone rang. In the seconds it took to answer, my mind raced. I was certain Fran had coded, and the hospital was calling to let me know.
I was close; it was the hospital…they wanted to know if I wanted to pick Fran up or should they send her home in a cab?
It was 11 p.m. and I had been at the hospital all day, just getting home after 6:30 p.m. I could not believe what I heard and asked why.
I was informed that Fran was not presenting; she was calm, tired, and completely coherent. They needed the bed space, and she was being cleared.
I immediately reminded them that I knew she had downed several Tramadol’s before she was taken by ambulance. She had a stash of pills she had brought with her from Florida and always had them with her for pain.
I had only recently started to figure out that she may have been using the Tramadol to calm herself down before she went to the doctor so she would not “present”. How could I have missed that flag on the field?
I also began to sort out that she had been hiding her obvious signs of depression and dementia; she knew something was wrong.
It explained why she would constantly accuse me of driving her to the “looney bin”. It also explained her accusations of theft which were daily and not just directed at me.
I recalled that the first visit to the bench and to see her friend in Royal Oak weeks earlier, she had become agitated. It was early spring and the orange cones were popping up; I decided to take back roads.
She questioned why I was on Dixie Highway headed toward Pontiac. I tried to explain I was avoiding some construction zones; I would drop down to Telegraph and go south.
She began shouting that she knew I was taking her to the mental hospital in Pontiac and she was not going to go. She knew the roads well, even after being gone almost 45 years; and until I got to Royal Oak, she continued to call me a liar.
I went back over in my head all the weird things that had transpired just since she had arrived. I missed so many red flags; I’m embarrassed to admit it.
Fran’s moodiness and swings were the result of her self-medicating with Tramadol. She had likely 50-60 in the big bottle she carried everywhere when she left her apartment.
As I drove back to the hospital, I tried to sort out what I would do with Fran. I decided I would bring her to my home even though I was afraid of her at that point. I would attack the Tramadol issue the next day.
Fran had other plans. As I arrived at the ER entrance, I was escorted back to a room where she was in a wheelchair looking like she had not slept in days.
Fran did not speak a word as I talked with the nurses and signed the paperwork. I insisted on a referral to a professional who could help me sort out what was happening and get her help.
She refused eye contact with me, and even the attendant could feel the tension. As we got her in my car, I tried to make small talk; she turned her head and refused to speak.
As we drove back towards my home, I explained she would spend the night at my home; we would stop by her apartment to get her pajamas.
Suddenly, Fran lurches forward and turns to me and says loudly, “No”. I continued to plead to no avail. As we walked up to her apartment, I continued to beg, and she stood firm; she was going to bed.
I was afraid to leave her alone, but to be honest, I was more afraid to spend the night at her apartment. Luckily, right down the hall were two on-call nurses (private pay for some residents) who were sympathetic to my situation.
We discussed just monitoring the hallway to make sure she did not leave her apartment. She was so tired; I did not think it would be an issue; thankfully, it was not.
At that time, I was not aware of things that were going on within her community, but after her being taken out by paramedics, suddenly everyone had stories.
One of the staff nurses in the community said they often heard her yelling late in the evenings and assumed she was arguing with me. Others said she made strange comments during meals, or simply ignored everyone while she ate.
I decided we needed to get a small camera installed over her door so we could monitor if she left. It had to be hidden as she was already convinced we were all watching her.
We found one that could be placed facing the door, disguised as something that she would not question. It worked for a short period; she moved things in her apartment constantly, hiding objects in other areas. Eventually, it was gone.
The next morning, I was surprised to see Fran dressed and acting as though nothing had happened the day before. She appeared to have completely forgotten all that transpired.
I sat down and began questioning her, hoping to draw out memories so we could discuss the situation. I explained that I had a referral for a doctor that I think she needed to see.
As usual, she upended the conversation with accusations, innuendos, and hateful rhetoric. I finally managed to calm her down and get a compromise.
I convinced her that I would never bring up her mental acuity again if she agreed to see the doctor. She reluctantly agreed and then told me to leave. In her words, I only came over to aggravate her again. I took the small win and left.
Next up: The Doctor will see you now…..