My dear Grandad Ron is lying in an intensive care unit at the moment. He fell off his bike last week, broke a hip, and had an operation to fix it. I went away for the weekend to Manchester thinking he’d soon get better after some recuperation time. He then suffered from 3 heart attacks (the doctors think) over the weekend. He was sedated and put on every tube/drip/wire combination possible. It was hoped my Grandad would come round after his sedation was reduced so the doctors could assess if he had suffered any damage from stopping breathing. He still hasn’t come too and now the doctors are not even sure he had any heart attacks. What is known he can’t breathe for himself nor get enough oxygen into the body.
He’s riddled with problems. He’s suffered from Raynaud’s disease for many years (poor circulation which results in white fingertips). His bad circulation has turned his feet a dreadful colour (we are told, I’m too scared to look). He’s been put on steroids to combat this, which has many side affects, two being infection and muscle wastage. He also has Parkinson’s disease which was being treated but all the medication for that has been stopped for the moment, which is causing his body to thrash about.
My family and I go and visit him as much as we can but we have all run out of things to say. We try and speak to him but there’s only so much you can say. I don’t know if he will get better. It’s breaking my heart to see his limp body, no teeth, and tubes stuck in every which way. Please wake up Grandad.
