My brother recently had surgery at the VA Hospital in Lexington, and once he thought he was himself again, he pushed to go home. The problem was that he had no one at home to care for him. His children live in California, and he couldn’t come with me because I was leaving for a week. I told him he had to stay in an extended care facility. He didn’t want to come to my house anyway; he wanted to go to his. He took control behind my back.
“I’m going to Rudy’s (his neighbor) and stay a few days and then go home,” he informed me. I argued that Rudy (in his eighties) could not take care of him, but my brother is stubborn. In truth, he never went to Rudy’s and never intended to go there. Big mistake. Before 48 hours passed, he was back in the hospital with kidney problems. …show more content…
“He was near kidney failure,” the doctor said. If he hadn’t been about to die, I would have killed him. I knew he needed to have extended care because Guy had been through the same surgery, but my brother (who worked for thirty years in the medical field) thought he knew more than anyone and could take care of himself.
On my way to Lexington for the second time, he called with this cryptic message. “Carol, I’m coming down home to your house to recuperate.” My reply was, “We’ll talk when I get there.” I knew he had something up his sleeve.
Sure enough, the doctor wanted to release him (the second time) but insisted he have a place to go. My brother was appeasing the doctor when he made the phone call with no intention of coming to my house. He was up to his old
“I’m going to Rudy’s (his neighbor) and stay a few days and then go home,” he informed me. I argued that Rudy (in his eighties) could not take care of him, but my brother is stubborn. In truth, he never went to Rudy’s and never intended to go there. Big mistake. Before 48 hours passed, he was back in the hospital with kidney problems. …show more content…
“He was near kidney failure,” the doctor said. If he hadn’t been about to die, I would have killed him. I knew he needed to have extended care because Guy had been through the same surgery, but my brother (who worked for thirty years in the medical field) thought he knew more than anyone and could take care of himself.
On my way to Lexington for the second time, he called with this cryptic message. “Carol, I’m coming down home to your house to recuperate.” My reply was, “We’ll talk when I get there.” I knew he had something up his sleeve.
Sure enough, the doctor wanted to release him (the second time) but insisted he have a place to go. My brother was appeasing the doctor when he made the phone call with no intention of coming to my house. He was up to his old