Hospital Appointment for Bear

Since Bear had concussion a couple of years ago (falling out of a makeshift bed!)  he has had an annual check up in in the geriatric unit at the hospital.

As you can imagine,  going to ‘geriatrie’  doesn’t please him and doing a series of tests with a young man puts him in a very bad mood. He tends to play the fool and mess about like a naughty child.

This year the ‘test’ appointment was the day after the storm which damaged our roof and to Bear’s relief, I  had to cancel the trip to the hospital so that I would be at home for the roofman.

However, the secretary rang back to say that the doctor would still like to see him as arranged on the 11th March.

We duly turned up at 2 o’clock yesterday and, as usual, the doctor kept us waiting for nearly half an hour  for no apparent reason.

She was a bit stern because she thought  Bear simply didn’t want to do the tests but I explained that the roof repair was important – especially bearing in mind how much it rains here.

She softened but when she asked if Bear would like to do a few tests with her he got stroppy and started saying things like “I don’t want to do those stupid tests. They don’t mean anything.  How can they show me Chinese patterns and expect me to remember them. It’s daft.  Anyway, anyone can set themselves up as a shrink without any qualifications . . . . . . . . ”

The doctor looked at me and expected me to tell her what he was saying.

I paraphrased my translation to mean something more polite but I  think she understood more than she let on.

She told Bear that he had memory problems over and above the expected level for his age and they were only trying to look after him. If he was going to be difficult then she wouldn’t see him any more unless or until he or our GP decided to make an appointment.

I passed on her lecture and his face fell.

“Well tell her I could remember what she looked like and I only came so that I could see her again” he simpered.

Isn’t it strange how some men think they can win you over by this kind of behaviour.

I translated but she wasn’t taken in.

Then Bear tried the tack that I was the one who needed my head read considering the mad ideas I had about greenhouses and chickens.

It was time to drag him away and I got up and put my coat on.

At the door the doctor looked him in the eye and said he should look after me because he was lucky I was taking care of him.

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5 Responses to “Hospital Appointment for Bear”

  1. Z Says:

    Well, it’s true and it needed saying. A pity that he probably won’t take it in.

    Mind you, it must be hard, to be told that your memory is going. He is probably quite frightened, underneath it all.

  2. Little old me Says:

    I feel for both of you, like Z says he probaly is scared so I fell for him and you because you have to put up with him. get a chair in the green house, you can escape there when you need to.

  3. Vagabonde Says:

    It is not easy to deal with older men. I have one at home who needs to get some tests and he does not think he needs them. He also does not think he needs to take his medicine. If I don’t give it to him, he won’t take it. Ah! Les hommes!

  4. Pat Says:

    In this instance I feel for him. Having seen Alzheimer’s at close quarters who wants to be told one may have it when there is no cure and questionable effective treatment. That’s not to say you have my total sympathy:) That sounds weird. You do have my total sympathy:)

  5. sablonneuse Says:

    Thank you ladies, and yes, you have to feel sorry for him. I do think he’s trying to be more pleasant recently but a combination of deafness and short term memory loss does make life difficult – for both of us!

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