To condense, my Dad now sits in a rehab center as I don't dare take him home with such a gross wound and still on intraveinous drugs.
After having brought him back from a stroke only to have a greedy little girl nearly kill him, the nursing home he was in was succeeding in stealing his will to live. I changed the door locks on his house to exclude the greedy one who still had a key and with an aide and without his son's knowledge, took him home. It took us 3 days to get his body temperature back to normal from them having him on an air mattress with no warming barrier in between, merely a thin sheet; no top sheet, just a thin thing they called a "blanket".
It took us two weeks before we were able to get him strong enough to help us get him in and out of his wheel chair, bed and lift-up recliner. Within the month, he was walking again, so traumatized however he does not to last discussion remember any of this.
What led to this was "Miss Greedy" feeding him God knows what combination of drugs after I had already taken him to the doctor and he was already on medication.With guidance from the wound care center, I healed 3 large wounds and by myself, 4 small ones he had endured from collapsing when "Miss Greedy" forced him to get out of bed after I told him not to get out of bed til I came back. It was Septmber 3, 2009. just days before his 75th birthdayI had found an empty house, calling the police station to ask if the ambulance had dispatched. I got all sorts of disavowals of knowledge. One man called me back and siad he thought that the ambulance had been sent earlier but wasn't sure where they went. I called his doctor, who at that time still cared about his patient. I guess my Dad was making a lot of money for him considering that "Miss Greedy" managed to get my Dad stuck in the hospital nearly every two weeks.
When the aide and I took him home, a nurse from VNJ was ready to call in hospice services. Her exact words: "This poor guy can't take another hospital stay."
So if they were trying to kill my Dad, they failed at that time.
We had just celebrated his not having been hospitalised for 2 years under my supervision of his care and caregivers. I was told by one that I was very strict with her. I was able to tell this one I didn't have to be, she was strict with herself, but I am no more strict with anyone than is required or I would, being able, do myself.
I insist on all surfaces to be steam disinfected, no dust, no residues, garbage emptied every night, medical supplies, bandages and the like seperately triple bagged and immediately disposed of. My Dad's home was cleaner than some hospitals in the USA.
The aforementioned aide left because the State of New Jersey refused to renew her Certifications unless she worked through an agency or in a Nursing Home. My, my, how they bleed us dry.
The next aide was initially conscientious, then became acquainted with "Miss Greedy" who under yet another name was being "The Avon Lady". That aide, just like "Miss Greedy", was also discharged for neglect of her duties, negligence of the patient and direct as well as indirect insubordination and lieing about it, as I discovered when once again two wounds which could have been easily averted by a simple baking soda footbath every two or thee days and daily foot checks and ointments. How hard is that when putting on another person's socks? I had not been able to get there for a few weeks due to having to wait for an engine to be built for my car. When I discovered the wounds, ergo the lies, I didn't do what I wanted to do - I am not a physically violent person - but did not immediately throw her out of the house and render her homeless.
So I began to heal my Dad's feet. The wound on his heel, which had gone to the bone, was healed, the other in the process of healing, but she was banished to her quarters the moment my car pulled into the driveway.
Around his birthday, my Dad started having asthmatic bronchial spasms. I should have treated them myself. Instead, I took him to that doctor in question. The doctor's secretary was on the phone cancelling appointments and told us she had just called to cancel my Dad's but there was no answer. The doctor didn't feel like staying in his office to write prescriptions, so told me to take him to the ER. No problems there. After two days, my Dad was cleared to go home and the foot doctor couldn't contain himself over the care I had rendered to my Dad's wounds. We spoke for a good ten minutes; his cardiologist just said to him to tell me he's fine, he can go home.
Enter the villain.
Apparently, he had gotten greedy and refused to release my Dad. He had him on an alarmed air bed that if the man so much as moved an alarm went off. Since the cardiologist and the podiatrist and the hospital had declared my Dad able to be discharged, his docotr was unmonitored except for the nurses who for some reason are fearful of countering the doctor or goin to administration. Seven days of these shennanigans and I told the nurse to have my dad ready for discharge at 4PM the next day. At 2:30 I finally got a call from what they refer to as his "primary care" physician ("his doctor") opening with the statement "Your Dad is in very bad shape." He wasn't when he went in there, just couldn't stop coughing, went through my head. Then came a string of lies about this and that and this test and that test (which upon learning later what medication my Dad was being given would have yielded a false positive reading for kidney failure and liver damage). I told him "No. I'm taking my father home".
I called the hospital and spoke to the nurse about these sudden alleged tests. The nurse (a man) called the doctors who were on staff in their field of expertise and neither had been called at any time during the week for blood or urine tests and "primary care" had called not ten minutes before he called me begging them to set up tests for the time I said I was taking him out of there.
My Dad was shaky and could not walk without leaning on me to get to his walker. Later that day when I changed his pull-ups I saw balck and blue marks on his belly. I asked him what that was and he said he didn't know, they weren't telling him anything. I called the hospital.
The black and blue marks were fro injections of Heparin, which my Dad's cardiologist who attended his quad bypass 12/2001 had very clearly dictated a letter stating that blood thinners were not to be used on my Dad.
Interim, the wound had scabbed over. That in treatment of diabetics is a great big NO! In addition, while my Dad had an open diabetic wound, the charlatan stopped ALL of diabetes medication. It is my belief that the intent was to kill my Dad.
We ran about to do all the tests demanded by the culprit, every trip out undid the healing which appeared to have begun. The tissue was patent, the scab had disappeared, but the wound, although not appearing infected; looking at them with jeweler's glasses, the appeared clean. So also agreed the foot doctor, but since the wound was widening we switched to saline dressings from alginates. The wound had been healing so well I didn't bother to order more alginate dressing. It appeared they would not be needed. But we were setting my Dad up for hyperbaric treatment and were in the process of doing all the clearance tests required for that. He was seen at the Hyperbaric center, they looked at the wound and said he was definitely a candidate for it, it would speed the healing and lessen chance for infection. That was a Thursday.
That Saturday, I put my Dad in the shower-there had been a lot of seepage and I did not want to tear the bandages off, so let the shower water dislodge them. When he came out of the shower, he left puddles of blood as he walked. I stopped the bleeding, cleaned the wound and dressed it with saline wet-to-dry therapy. I inistsed he not walk, but made him use his wheel chair.
On Sunday, my original aide came back on duty except for his foot care. Being a CNA(Certified Nursing Assistant), she naturally was standing by to help me. She came close to nearly having to revive me after I removed the bandages from my Dad's foot. I told her to look at it. She said "It wasn't like that!!!" I said "No, it wasn't." I was in shock. And I remain in upset beyond description.
What happens when a blood thinner, Heparin is specified, is administered with the presence of a Reactive Oxygen Species Bacteria (the hospital x-rays & MRI's showed the wound clean and no infection in the bone), the podiatrists having thought my Dad was discharged, nobody bothered to clean or keep the wound from scabbing over; administering Heparin against the directions from my Dad's cardiologist and my objections, Dr. Tusharkumar Mistry decided nobody knew anything and he was going to load my Dad up with Heparin, never having taken a bacterial culture or given any attention to the wound and just disregard everything everyone else said be cause HE was smarter than anyone else. And the bacteria had really high blood sugar levels to feed on; the Heparin causes the scavenger cells (phagocytes) from locating dead cells and engulfing them, in essence, making like pac-man and eating them up. While the wound had externally appeared to heal, there was all this dead tissue from them letting it scab over undisposed of because of the Heparin. The thin tissue which had looked patent was covering a pool of clear yellow exudate mixed with blood. When that oozed out, what I saw was a cavern with tendon and bone exposed.
Perhaps without the delay in the Emergency Room, the surgeaon might not have had to cut out 1/3 of my Dad's metatarsal bone or flesh the size of an ice cream scoop through the full thickness of my Dad's foot and they would have succeeded with IV antibiotics. The surgeon said there was no time to waste. He did say he didn't want my Dad to lose his foot. He called to say he had successfully removed all the infected bone and tissue, which was really difficult. I was still stunned from what I saw, how long the delay was, and having been told the previous night that no one was considering surgery. I'm glad he didn't tell me the mortality rate from this is 73%. I didn't know what to say to the man but "Thank God. Thank you."
I will have to call him to find out what we do next. Later I have to meet with my Dad's prior to 2008 physician and fill him in on the horror show my Dad, his son, and I have endured under that other man, who presented himself as the rescuing night in shining armor but houses one of the blackest, most rotten hearts I've ever encountered.
So you may wonder why I didn't get rid of him before. My Dad made the mistake of writing a dual Power of Attorney wherein his son and I had to agree before any action could be taken. And at the time, he was so enamored of "Miss Greedy" he couldn't see the harm she was causing, much less any idea what the doctor was talking about or listen to me. It was more than an entire year wherein we did not speak.
I am enraged inside that someone came along and destroyed all the sometimes excruciating work (I'm disabled-sometimes my body is a total mass of pain, my sleep is whenever it comes, I eat when I rememeber in between making sure my Dad is cared for, his medicals are in order, his finances are in order, his house is the optimum of cleanliness and attempt to do the same for myself.
Everyone keeps saying I have to put myself first. In a convoluted sense,the effort I put into keeping my Dad well is putting myself first. Because keeping him well, I don't have to heal him. But the nurses and aides and too many doctors don't care about that; how bad a diaper rash has gotten (so bad Dad needed IV Mitronydazole) or even tell the doctor that the man has had feces running out of him for a week (I told the doctor-he took a culture-it was a stomach virus and required oral mitronydazole). Yet they tell me that they had to change his pull-ups 6 times in 7 hours.
God help us. More needs changing than just the financing of health care in the USA and I hope this writing will prevent someone else from losing a limb or their life.
Prinzessin Hohenzoller
After having brought him back from a stroke only to have a greedy little girl nearly kill him, the nursing home he was in was succeeding in stealing his will to live. I changed the door locks on his house to exclude the greedy one who still had a key and with an aide and without his son's knowledge, took him home. It took us 3 days to get his body temperature back to normal from them having him on an air mattress with no warming barrier in between, merely a thin sheet; no top sheet, just a thin thing they called a "blanket".
It took us two weeks before we were able to get him strong enough to help us get him in and out of his wheel chair, bed and lift-up recliner. Within the month, he was walking again, so traumatized however he does not to last discussion remember any of this.
What led to this was "Miss Greedy" feeding him God knows what combination of drugs after I had already taken him to the doctor and he was already on medication.With guidance from the wound care center, I healed 3 large wounds and by myself, 4 small ones he had endured from collapsing when "Miss Greedy" forced him to get out of bed after I told him not to get out of bed til I came back. It was Septmber 3, 2009. just days before his 75th birthdayI had found an empty house, calling the police station to ask if the ambulance had dispatched. I got all sorts of disavowals of knowledge. One man called me back and siad he thought that the ambulance had been sent earlier but wasn't sure where they went. I called his doctor, who at that time still cared about his patient. I guess my Dad was making a lot of money for him considering that "Miss Greedy" managed to get my Dad stuck in the hospital nearly every two weeks.
When the aide and I took him home, a nurse from VNJ was ready to call in hospice services. Her exact words: "This poor guy can't take another hospital stay."
So if they were trying to kill my Dad, they failed at that time.
We had just celebrated his not having been hospitalised for 2 years under my supervision of his care and caregivers. I was told by one that I was very strict with her. I was able to tell this one I didn't have to be, she was strict with herself, but I am no more strict with anyone than is required or I would, being able, do myself.
I insist on all surfaces to be steam disinfected, no dust, no residues, garbage emptied every night, medical supplies, bandages and the like seperately triple bagged and immediately disposed of. My Dad's home was cleaner than some hospitals in the USA.
The aforementioned aide left because the State of New Jersey refused to renew her Certifications unless she worked through an agency or in a Nursing Home. My, my, how they bleed us dry.
The next aide was initially conscientious, then became acquainted with "Miss Greedy" who under yet another name was being "The Avon Lady". That aide, just like "Miss Greedy", was also discharged for neglect of her duties, negligence of the patient and direct as well as indirect insubordination and lieing about it, as I discovered when once again two wounds which could have been easily averted by a simple baking soda footbath every two or thee days and daily foot checks and ointments. How hard is that when putting on another person's socks? I had not been able to get there for a few weeks due to having to wait for an engine to be built for my car. When I discovered the wounds, ergo the lies, I didn't do what I wanted to do - I am not a physically violent person - but did not immediately throw her out of the house and render her homeless.
So I began to heal my Dad's feet. The wound on his heel, which had gone to the bone, was healed, the other in the process of healing, but she was banished to her quarters the moment my car pulled into the driveway.
Around his birthday, my Dad started having asthmatic bronchial spasms. I should have treated them myself. Instead, I took him to that doctor in question. The doctor's secretary was on the phone cancelling appointments and told us she had just called to cancel my Dad's but there was no answer. The doctor didn't feel like staying in his office to write prescriptions, so told me to take him to the ER. No problems there. After two days, my Dad was cleared to go home and the foot doctor couldn't contain himself over the care I had rendered to my Dad's wounds. We spoke for a good ten minutes; his cardiologist just said to him to tell me he's fine, he can go home.
Enter the villain.
Apparently, he had gotten greedy and refused to release my Dad. He had him on an alarmed air bed that if the man so much as moved an alarm went off. Since the cardiologist and the podiatrist and the hospital had declared my Dad able to be discharged, his docotr was unmonitored except for the nurses who for some reason are fearful of countering the doctor or goin to administration. Seven days of these shennanigans and I told the nurse to have my dad ready for discharge at 4PM the next day. At 2:30 I finally got a call from what they refer to as his "primary care" physician ("his doctor") opening with the statement "Your Dad is in very bad shape." He wasn't when he went in there, just couldn't stop coughing, went through my head. Then came a string of lies about this and that and this test and that test (which upon learning later what medication my Dad was being given would have yielded a false positive reading for kidney failure and liver damage). I told him "No. I'm taking my father home".
I called the hospital and spoke to the nurse about these sudden alleged tests. The nurse (a man) called the doctors who were on staff in their field of expertise and neither had been called at any time during the week for blood or urine tests and "primary care" had called not ten minutes before he called me begging them to set up tests for the time I said I was taking him out of there.
My Dad was shaky and could not walk without leaning on me to get to his walker. Later that day when I changed his pull-ups I saw balck and blue marks on his belly. I asked him what that was and he said he didn't know, they weren't telling him anything. I called the hospital.
The black and blue marks were fro injections of Heparin, which my Dad's cardiologist who attended his quad bypass 12/2001 had very clearly dictated a letter stating that blood thinners were not to be used on my Dad.
Interim, the wound had scabbed over. That in treatment of diabetics is a great big NO! In addition, while my Dad had an open diabetic wound, the charlatan stopped ALL of diabetes medication. It is my belief that the intent was to kill my Dad.
We ran about to do all the tests demanded by the culprit, every trip out undid the healing which appeared to have begun. The tissue was patent, the scab had disappeared, but the wound, although not appearing infected; looking at them with jeweler's glasses, the appeared clean. So also agreed the foot doctor, but since the wound was widening we switched to saline dressings from alginates. The wound had been healing so well I didn't bother to order more alginate dressing. It appeared they would not be needed. But we were setting my Dad up for hyperbaric treatment and were in the process of doing all the clearance tests required for that. He was seen at the Hyperbaric center, they looked at the wound and said he was definitely a candidate for it, it would speed the healing and lessen chance for infection. That was a Thursday.
That Saturday, I put my Dad in the shower-there had been a lot of seepage and I did not want to tear the bandages off, so let the shower water dislodge them. When he came out of the shower, he left puddles of blood as he walked. I stopped the bleeding, cleaned the wound and dressed it with saline wet-to-dry therapy. I inistsed he not walk, but made him use his wheel chair.
On Sunday, my original aide came back on duty except for his foot care. Being a CNA(Certified Nursing Assistant), she naturally was standing by to help me. She came close to nearly having to revive me after I removed the bandages from my Dad's foot. I told her to look at it. She said "It wasn't like that!!!" I said "No, it wasn't." I was in shock. And I remain in upset beyond description.
What happens when a blood thinner, Heparin is specified, is administered with the presence of a Reactive Oxygen Species Bacteria (the hospital x-rays & MRI's showed the wound clean and no infection in the bone), the podiatrists having thought my Dad was discharged, nobody bothered to clean or keep the wound from scabbing over; administering Heparin against the directions from my Dad's cardiologist and my objections, Dr. Tusharkumar Mistry decided nobody knew anything and he was going to load my Dad up with Heparin, never having taken a bacterial culture or given any attention to the wound and just disregard everything everyone else said be cause HE was smarter than anyone else. And the bacteria had really high blood sugar levels to feed on; the Heparin causes the scavenger cells (phagocytes) from locating dead cells and engulfing them, in essence, making like pac-man and eating them up. While the wound had externally appeared to heal, there was all this dead tissue from them letting it scab over undisposed of because of the Heparin. The thin tissue which had looked patent was covering a pool of clear yellow exudate mixed with blood. When that oozed out, what I saw was a cavern with tendon and bone exposed.
Perhaps without the delay in the Emergency Room, the surgeaon might not have had to cut out 1/3 of my Dad's metatarsal bone or flesh the size of an ice cream scoop through the full thickness of my Dad's foot and they would have succeeded with IV antibiotics. The surgeon said there was no time to waste. He did say he didn't want my Dad to lose his foot. He called to say he had successfully removed all the infected bone and tissue, which was really difficult. I was still stunned from what I saw, how long the delay was, and having been told the previous night that no one was considering surgery. I'm glad he didn't tell me the mortality rate from this is 73%. I didn't know what to say to the man but "Thank God. Thank you."
I will have to call him to find out what we do next. Later I have to meet with my Dad's prior to 2008 physician and fill him in on the horror show my Dad, his son, and I have endured under that other man, who presented himself as the rescuing night in shining armor but houses one of the blackest, most rotten hearts I've ever encountered.
So you may wonder why I didn't get rid of him before. My Dad made the mistake of writing a dual Power of Attorney wherein his son and I had to agree before any action could be taken. And at the time, he was so enamored of "Miss Greedy" he couldn't see the harm she was causing, much less any idea what the doctor was talking about or listen to me. It was more than an entire year wherein we did not speak.
I am enraged inside that someone came along and destroyed all the sometimes excruciating work (I'm disabled-sometimes my body is a total mass of pain, my sleep is whenever it comes, I eat when I rememeber in between making sure my Dad is cared for, his medicals are in order, his finances are in order, his house is the optimum of cleanliness and attempt to do the same for myself.
Everyone keeps saying I have to put myself first. In a convoluted sense,the effort I put into keeping my Dad well is putting myself first. Because keeping him well, I don't have to heal him. But the nurses and aides and too many doctors don't care about that; how bad a diaper rash has gotten (so bad Dad needed IV Mitronydazole) or even tell the doctor that the man has had feces running out of him for a week (I told the doctor-he took a culture-it was a stomach virus and required oral mitronydazole). Yet they tell me that they had to change his pull-ups 6 times in 7 hours.
God help us. More needs changing than just the financing of health care in the USA and I hope this writing will prevent someone else from losing a limb or their life.
Prinzessin Hohenzoller
