This is his broken hip.  This is his pneumonia.  Richard isn't going to recover from this, whatever 'this' is.  The doctor, an oriental woman without an apparent ounce of warmth or empathy, said we can do nothing more for him.  Pain relief and rest, that's all.  We won't do surgery.  We won't intervene (because he is 73, has LBD and Parkinsons?).  Best thing I can do is move him to a home.  The sooner the better was left unsaid.

The male nurse said they suspected something more sinister - and they seem to have taken more scans which still show nothing.   Why did he say that?  I knew when talking with this doctor I would get nowhere.  She was stone.

On the other side of the coin is the social worker, Katy.  A bundle of energy and warmth who goes the extra mile.  I met with Mary who did the second ACAT assessment, a formality. She didn't ask Richard any questions to gauge his mental acuity.  I signed papers which confirm him as needing High Care Permanent Residency rather than High Care Respite.  And, due to Katy's enthusiasm and love of her job, there is a good chance Richard will go to Heritage Lodge.  I contacted Heritage before because it is regarded as the best home in the district.  A friend of a friend's motherr was cared for at Heritage. She had LBD.  Turns out she was a long term resident who developed LBD so they just carried on.  They don't have a dementia unit.  But as Richard is immobile, not abusive, nor loud they will take him on trial. 

This is the universe looking after us.  He will be in the best place and the best place is in town so I can visit every day.

Just looked up broken hips.  Wonder if they did an MRI.  I'll ask today.  I'll ask one of the nurses - don't think I'll get anywhere with the doctor.  And if they haven't done an MRI I'll request one. 

The greatest danger to Richard now is immobility.  The doctor pointed out he was extremely constipated - rather accusingly I thought.  Him being constipated is clearly a result of lying on his backside and change of diet.  I teased him last week of beiing like a horse; pooping copious amounts frequently.  Our diet, full of fibre and raw stuff... constipation is not an issue. 

Don't know why I didn't put two and two together before.  Because it didn't have the name broken hip?  If he is going to die of this, I hope it is sooner rather than later.  The difference between him yesterday and the day before was profound.  He was very vague and prone to drifting off to sleep, even while I was feediing him lunch.  Perhaps it's better to sleep rather than be awake and be in pain - but it's a grey existence.  I hope at least he dreams beautiful dreams.

One of the boys finally said he would seek to come visit him next week on compassionate grounds. There has been nothing standing in the way of him investigating whether he could or not.  Only himself.  The guilt is going to hit big time - which I think is why he lashed out at me on the phone.  But he'll have to sort it out by himself.  The writing has been on the wall for years, the last six months on billboards.