Death in the time of COVID in a LGA of concern
My 89 year old father died on September 4th 2021 after 3 weeks of hospitalisation. As the ambulance pulled away from the Nursing Home I was told I could not visit the hospital due to strict COVID restrictions. If Dad was seriously ill, one person would be allowed to visit. If Dad became terminal, his direct children only, will be allowed to visit. Ring the hospital in about 2 hours to get an update.
Who knew it would be good news not to be allowed to visit your Dad in hospital?
Dad deteriorated and I was allowed in to visit. Every day I go through screening, identify that I am allowed to enter and wear my mask. The public hospital is buzzing. The aged care ward is busy and understaffed. An old woman wanders all day entering all rooms and taking things from peoples’ trays. There is no way to monitor her continually for her mild thieving let alone ensuring social distancing and infection control.
With much negotiation on a Sunday, I succeeded to get my brother in for a visit for one day. I am not allowed in on this day. One visitor only. They get some precious time alone together.
Dad responds to treatment and is transferred to a private hospital. Once again we are banned from visiting. This is good news. Dad is now in a private room and his experience is much more peaceful. Dad has not kept up with technology during his life. He does not own a mobile phone. For various reasons he cannot use the landline. It is hard to communicate with him. He is on his own. Unfortunately one Friday Dad has a major stroke. It is bad news, my Dad is now terminal. He does not regain consciousness. Suddenly my brother and I are both allowed in and our time is not limited. My brother in WA has applied three times to travel over to us and be with us. Each application is denied. We don’t want him in quarantine for 14 days, grieving on his own when he returns to WA. We all decide that he will stay in WA.
The private hospital provides brilliant end of life care for my father. My brother and I sit quietly with our father for seven days. The world outside is going crazy with COVID cases soaring, there are night time curfews and Afghanistan has fallen and there is chaos on our TV screens. We step in the front door of the hospital and the world falls away and we sit in the quiet with Dad’s playlist of favourite music playing.
COVID strips us of any sentimentality. I need to contact Dad’s church to find out if they could conduct Dad’s funeral and if so, do they have streaming capability? We want to include my brother from WA. Dad still had 5 days to live. My eldest brother is disabled and he needs appropriate clothes to wear to his father’s funeral. There are no clothes shops open. I have to make an online purchase and ensure I have enough delivery time for them to arrive before the funeral. Right at this time Australian Post announced that all new parcel deliveries will be stopped for four days to allow them to deliver all existing back log of parcels. Dad still had 3 days to live.
My brother’s lock down life is stressful. He has started a new job and both he and his wife are working from home. They are home schooling a kindergarten child. His father is dying. He cannot be at the hospital during the day. I am doing the vigil on my own rather than with my family, my team. I hold the phone to Dad’s ear as grandsons rang and said their good byes, as his son in law calls to say his good byes. I hear all of these private, sensitive, sad calls. I am on my own with my Dad.
The call came at 330am on Saturday morning. Dad has passed away. He was on his own. I drive in through the curfew empty streets. The urgency is over. It is back to one person allowed into the hospital. I say goodbye. I have to start the after death processes. I walk out of the quiet hospital into the empty street. I sit in my car but don’t start it. I am not ready to leave Dad yet. I am really on my own.