Dad was in the dementia unit of the hospital for quite some time while the whanau and the health services tried to find another place for him to go.
He was doped to the eyeballs the whole time. He was a zombie. Sagging eyes, drooping lips that dribbled, hardly able to focus, mumbling speech, bent double and shuffling when he moved.
My sister has a video of Dad just weeks earlier dancing. Real dancing to rock and roll. Now he was reduced to a zombie shuffle.
The family kept up their regular visiting though it was so sad seeing him like this and feeling so helpless - after all we were just family. The big medical machine knew best.
Mum was asking when they would reduce his drugs. They made promises, but of course, he had a violent record and they didn't have many staff so keeping him doped and docile suited them just fine.
Another place was found and with high hopes the family executed his relocation.
The unit did seem really good. The staff seemed very knowledgable. There was a bit of space for walking around and, more importantly, there was no lock down. Yes, we thought, this place has promise and we were hopeful of long term placement and a reduction of zombie drugs.
