It was on my second day in the Netherlands that I had, for the Nth time, the discussion with my mum about the near future. My mother had kept insisting that she could perfectly do without help. But she was the only person believing that. We would not leave her alone. So as long as she refused help, but couldn't get out of bed, my two aunts, my sister and me would just keep turning up. And I think the penny dropped. That changed her mind. Suddenly, she said she wanted to go to a care home.
I didn't know what was happening to me. But I immediately notified one of her sisters, and the GP. The GP said they would send a geriatric district nurse at some unknown time in the future, to assess the situation. And then things would move from there. I was very relieved! I was of the solid conviction my mother couldn't be left alone for considerable periods of time, and it is very difficult to have someone there every day if you are drawing from a pool of two people living abroad, one 90-year-old on the other side of the country, and one 78-year-old nearby. For what easily could be months on end.
If she would agree to go to a care home, at least none of us would have to worry about her trying to stagger to the loo, falling over, breaking a hip, not being found until 12 hours later, and then having to go hospital where she really doesn't want to be. That would really help!
Now that she had made that decision, she also wanted it to be implemented right now. But we didn't know when the district nurse would come for the evaluation, let alone how fast things would be happening after that. After some pushing, we heard she would be coming the Monday after. I would already be home. My sister would still be there. Only just!
Phoning the district nurse herself then revealed that if she would deem the situation severe enough, she could report back to the GP, who in turn could arrange emergency admission somewhere. So maybe my mum would be in professional hands soon. A relief!
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