The next time I do this, I am saving up drugs and making sure that she is TOTALLY medicated before the ambulance shows up. I am never putting her through this again as long as I’m alive.
Because it’s nothing like you think it is.
First, she gets moved from her bed onto the gurney.
Then up into the ambulance.
Then across town.
Then out of the ambulance, into the convalescence home.
Then from the gurney into her bed.
Then she had to get rolled around for a physical examination to make sure she didn’t have any bedsores.
Then she had to get weighed-and since she couldn’t stand up, they had to put her into a sling–even though AT THE HOSPITAL, they could and did weigh her right in the bed and had that written down, to the ounce.
So she has been yanked around for a good 90 minutes and is crying in pain and it is another hour before they can give her anything. She has a new geriatric doctor but won’t even see him until Monday–so she has a stranger on call for the weekend. (This is something else a person needs to tend to before hand.)
If I had even guessed this was the way it was going to be, I would have dug around in my handbag and started giving her whatever I carry around with me. I would have gone home and rummaged around and found something in my little arsenal.
I know I couldn’t do it at the nursing home or they would throw her out, but between the hospital and the nursing home, she belonged to nobody but me.
What good is the phrase “Keep her comfortable” if the people in charge know this is coming up and let her go into it, knowing she is going to be in unbelievable pain?
I don’t even do this to my dogs.