Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home

Sandra lay in the hospital bed, a monitor blinking away by her side. A nurse came in to check on her and she smiled and nodded towards the machine.

“I’m perfectly ok you know”, she told the nurse.” I really don’t know why I’m here, and I do need to go home”.

Keeping an eye on the lines and numbers, the nurse responded. “Well now Sandra, you fainted, and you hit your head, and I think the doctors want to keep you in overnight, just to make sure you haven’t done any damage to yourself”.

Sandra wasn’t happy with the idea and muttered her displeasure. “There’s nothing wrong with me, I was just feeling tired because it was a busy day. Everyone gets tired, don’t they? I’m wasting everyone’s time just lying here, and I have to go home, the house is empty and I’ve some very valuable stuff in there”.

The next morning Sandra was awake and ready to go but she hadn’t seen hide, nor hair, of a doctor and her patience was running out. She peered out into the corridor which was quiet and void of any staff.

Meanwhile Vivian was in her garden, talking to the flowers and threatening the weeds with boiling water and vinegar, when the entry gate bell rang. Her ever-vigilant Kelpie companion took up the prompt and rushed to the gate, barking loudly and in full security mode.

The person on the other side called out. “It’s only me Olive. Let me in, that’s a good girl. I’ve come to pick up my car.”

Vivian had followed Olive to the gate, and was surprised to see Sandra closing the gate behind her.

“What are you doing here Sandra?”. She asked. “I thought you were in hospital”.

Sandra was quick to respond. “I was but they said there’s nothing really wrong with me so I’ve come to pick up my car and then I’ll head home”

A number of questions ran through Vivian’s mind, which were amplified when she noticed the round blue patch accessories attached to Sandra’s exposed chest, arms and legs.

She took a moment to assess the situation before responding. “Are you sure you’re alright Sandra?”, she asked, beginning to realise the implications of the blue tabs.

Sandra was keen to cover the situation quickly before the questions turned into an interrogation.

"Yes, the hospital said that I’m all clear so they let me come home. I think I must have left the car keys with you when I went off in the ambulance, so I’ll just get them off you and I’ll be on my way”.

Oh well, Vivian thought. If the hospital said.

“Yes, I do have them”, she confirmed. “I’ll just go and get them. Would you like a cuppa now you’re here?” she offered.

“No, I won’t stay thank you”. Sandra replied, “I really must get going”.

Vivian went to get the keys, while Libby had a friendly chat with Olive, and craftily fed her a reward of some leftover biscuits she’d brought from the hospital.

Sandra’s car was sitting in the driveway. What was once a well-regarded model, that embodied both sleek lines and reliability, had since become just short of a one-way trip to the wreckers. The paintwork had been relentlessly thinned by the elements and patches of rust were slowly beginning to eat into the bare metal. The seats had lost any semblance of upholstery and looked like park benches, with the floor buried beneath shopping bags and empty plastic water bottles.

“There you go Sandra”, Vivian said as she handed over the keys, and viewed the car. “Out of curiosity, have you had it serviced lately”, she asked, not quite sure why she was asking, because a service was the least of the car’s immediate needs.

By this time, Sandra was making a beeline for the car. “Oh yes, I always look after Freddie” she answered, “he never lets me down”. Patting the bonnet affectionately, she lowered herself into the driver’s seat, which was not an easy task as she was of overly comfortable build, with aches in all the joints that she relied on.

Before driving off, she wound down the driver’s window and called out to Vivian. “Thank you so much for keeping him here, I do appreciate it”. She started the motor, and waved as she drove off, “It’ll be really great to be home”.

It was three weeks later when Vivian was back out in her garden, armed with a potent homemade weed killer, that she received a call from a fellow member of the Tuesday Ladies Coffee Roundup. They met weekly, and it was an opportunity to mix and match their life’s experiences over coffee and cake, and for Sandra who had few social outlets, it was a get-together she looked forward to. She could never seem to manage the cake though, and not wanting seem like a wastrel, she would wrap it in a napkin and take it home for later.

The call was from Fay and it took Vivian a minute to process what she was being told.

“What do you mean, Sandra’s back in hospital again?”

Fay went on to tell the story of how Sandra had had a quite a spectacular fall at home, and luckily her neighbour had heard her cries for help and called an ambulance.

“But that’s the third fall she’s had in the last three months, isn’t it, and that’s on top of her fainting here?” said Vivian looking for confirmation.

“Yes”, Fay answered,” but this one was serious, and they think she may have broken something”. Fay explained. “I think they’ll keep her in for a while this time”.

“Well, I don’t know, she’s like a cat with nine lives isn’t she”, was all Vivian could say.

What to do now, she thought. It was like repeatedly putting the pieces of a broken doll back together. How long could it go on?

She decided to do the right thing, and on checking over, the phone, that Sandra was still hospitalised, and could be for some time, she planned a visit for the next day.

When she arrived at the hospital and asked which ward Sandra was in, she was asked to wait for a doctor to come and talk with her. When he arrived, he ushered her into a side room and they both sat down to begin the conversation.

“Are you Sandra’s next-of-kin? he opened with. “Do you have any personal knowledge of her family and her current lifestyle?”

Vivian realised that Sandra’s situation had gone from mildly problematic to seriously concerning and she took a moment to assess the dramatic change.

“Um, no, I’m not her next-of-kin”, she replied, “Her husband died some years back, and she has no children. I think she might have a couple of nieces who live in another State, but she doesn’t have much contact with them, and most of her other family are overseas I believe. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about her lifestyle”, she added, “because our group always meets at a café, so we don’t visit individual homes”.

“In that case, we need to know if Sandra has a Will, or a Power of Attorney”, the doctor explained. “She did bruise herself quite badly in the fall, but further tests have revealed that she has alcohol related dementia, significant liver damage, and severe malnutrition. We will keep her here for the time being, but it’s clear that she hasn’t been looking after herself for some time. Our recommendation will be that she transfers to an interim care home and then, with the family’s consent, a permanent place can be found for her. If you can find out details of the nieces, that would be really helpful and they might know if there is a Will”.

“Wow”, Vivian said out loud and took a deep breath. It was a lot of information to take in, but it shouldn’t have come as such a shock because, thinking back, Sandra was never enthusiastic about food at their gatherings, whether it was morning tea, or lunch, and obviously her ‘quick pop to the bottle shop’ had become a regular pilgrimage.

It seemed that no sooner had the doctor arrived and delivered the prognosis, he was leaving. “I’m sorry to have to rush off Vivian, so can I leave that with you’.

Vivian, still in a state of shock, just nodded and thanked the doctor for his time.

It was with a totally different outlook that Vivian entered Sandra’s room, and found her toying with her lunch tray.

“Oh, hello Vivian, how lovely to see you”. Sandra said. “Do come and sit down”.

Vivian decided to keep the conversation light and asked about the activities and social life that was available in the home.

“Yes, it’s really quite nice here”. Sandra responded, “There’s lots to do, but I don’t think I’ll be staying. It feels a bit like being on holiday, and of course, holidays come to an end and you have to go home”.

Vivian was beginning to think she was in the middle of a tragicomedy movie, and to play her part, according to her new commitment to the doctor, she came up with an idea.

“Well, if you’re leaving tomorrow, Sandra, how about I get some groceries in for you? Milk and bread and anything else you feel you might need? It’s always nice to have fresh sheets on the bed, so I can do that as well”.

Sandra was pleased with the idea. “That would be lovely, Vivian, thank you. I’ll need just the basics I think and I’ll pay you back”.

“Don’t worry about that, but I will need your house keys to get in”, Vivian said, hoping that her plan wasn’t too obvious.

Sandra took a moment to answer, and when she did, it was in a hushed whisper. “Can I tell you a secret Vivian”, she said leaning in. “I keep a key somewhere in my bag and I’ve put another under the flower pot by the front door, so that if I lose my bag, I can always get in”.

Great, Vivian thought. Shouldn’t take long because there’s only so many likely storage places for important documents.

Wanting to maintain her level of enthusiasm, she decided that if she left straight away, she could get the job done within the next few hours, so she took her leave of Sandra, telling her they’d meet again the next day.

When she arrived at Sandra’s house, there were a dozen pots sitting in front of the door. She methodically turned every pot over, but no key.

Not wanting to entertain the possibility that there was no key at all, she continued the hunt, and whether it was luck, mingled with instinct, she started her search with a garden gnome, standing on a lone brick. While his bright red coat and trousers had faded to a dusty pink, he’d retained his engaging grin, and on picking him up, Vivian realised that he was a hollow little fellow, with a plug between his feet. She managed to squeeze and pull the stopper out, and low and behold, there was the key.

Congratulating herself on the find, Vivian unlocked the door and was was met with a scene beyond her belief, and not usually given to using bad language, the only expression she could come up with was, “What the fuck?”

The floor was knee deep in decades of memorabilia that included, at first glance, everything from kitchen appliances, and vacuum cleaners, of which there were three, to an old ships chest that wouldn’t look amiss on the Titanic. A fur coat hung off a hook on a door, countless pairs of high-heeled shoes were stashed in between a clothespress and several framed paintings, and a wall of books and magazines that any library would have been proud to display formed a backdrop. The whole area was covered in a thick blanket of solidifying dust and evidence of a resident rodent community filled in the small gaps.

Vivian’s instinct was to sit down so she could fully comprehend what she was seeing, but there was nowhere that wasn’t without risk. She tried not to be sickened by the images, but she couldn’t bring herself to climb the rickety stairs to who knew what on the second floor, so she withdrew and drove home, understanding that the task of finding a Will, Power of Attorney, or any other documentation in the disorder had become virtually impossible.

A few days passed before Vivian could sum up any enthusiasm to return to the house. She wanted to because she was in partial denial of what she’d seen previously, and she arrived to find the front door open.

Her use of profanities came to the fore again. “Bloody hell, what now”, she asked herself out loud, and thinking she should at least have a look to see why it was open, she nervously inched into the house.

The shocks kept coming, as no sooner had she crossed the threshold than Sandra called out to her from the top of the staircase.

Vivian wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry when she saw Sandra walking down the stairs towards her and she had to question her presence.

“Whatever are you doing here Sandra, and how did you get here?” she challenged.

Sandra was looking extremely pleased with herself and stopped to deliver what she considered her coup d’etat.

“Well, I told them that I wanted to come home, and I told them that I had to come home, so here I am now, where I belong”.