Part 2: Discharged — but Not Done

I’m tired. Exhausted. Frustrated. And honestly, in disbelief.

Mum was released on a Friday — after just a week and a half in hospital. She was still in pain, still anxious about going home to an empty house. But the doctor said, “You’ve done well. You can go home.”

That morning I’d visited her, then gone home for a quick break and to get some work done. Less than an hour later she called: “They’re sending me home after lunch.”

We were both in shock. Maybe it’s on me for not asking to speak directly with the doctor, but from what Mum said, there wasn’t an option. It was happening.

When I arrived, a wheelchair was already waiting by the door. I packed up her things, balanced the bags on her lap, and wheeled her out. No one offered to help. No one came near us.

As I passed the nurses’ station I said, “Is that it? Do we just walk out? Do I need to sign or pay for anything?”They said, “No, good to go.”

Ummm... Okee-dokee.

Down we went. I asked the man at reception the same thing — he just said they’d post something.

So that was it. Out the door.

I’d parked in a two-minute zone (but took way longer!), got her into the car, and drove her home.

I am not a carer. I love my mum, and will obviously do what needs to be done, but I also have my own family, my own work, and a body that’s 50-plus and needs looking after too.

We managed to borrow a wheely walker so she can stand and get around her unit. When we finally got her inside, she went straight to bed.

The reality of life after a hospital discharge that's too early.

That first night was awful. Not from her compressed discs — from her shoulder. She could hardly move. As long as we kept the painkillers on schedule every four hours, it was manageable, but barely.

I’m writing this on day one of her being home. I don’t know how long it’ll take before she can cope without someone there.

And I keep wondering: is this really it?

Is the system just relying on adult children — most of us juggling work, families, and our own health — to become the default carers because there doesn’t look like any other quick option?

Was she discharged on a Friday because it’s cheaper?

Because weekends are inconvenient?

Even though she told them she wasn’t ready? (She actually had a panic attack the night before, scared they’d send her home — I found this out later.)

I am very tired (and I’m lucky to have a brother to help share the load). After less than two hours’ sleep, I even had a mild, tense discussion with another family member :) after I had a go at the doctor for releasing Mum too soon.

I believe he’s just following the hospital system rules. But this person said that wasn’t her experience — that the doctor makes the decision. And maybe I would’ve agreed once too.

Because when I’ve been in hospital myself, I couldn’t wait to get out. But that was when I was in my 20s, 30s, 40s, and just 50. I was young, and I could look after myself (or my husband could).

Mum is now a widow. And now, watching what’s happened to both of my 80+ year-old parents — two very average, or below-average, experiences — it’s marred my own perspective.

Is this really the future for me, my husband, my friends?

Is this what we have to look forward to?

There has to be a simpler way. A human way.

Something between “hospital bed” and “completely alone.”

Something that isn’t buried in bureaucracy or dependent on family luck and timing.

Maybe that’s why I keep ending up in these moments — to witness them.

To understand them from the inside out.

Maybe I’m meant to see all the cracks so I can help design what’s next.

Because this… this isn’t care.

It’s paperwork with people attached.

B x

PART THREE

P.S.I’m sharing this as it happens — not from hindsight but from the middle of it — because this is what transitioning home actually looks like in Australia’s aged-care system.

It’s the invisible gap between hospital discharge and real life, where family shoulders the load and bureaucracy shrugs.

Just a note: Everything I’ve shared here is based on my personal experience and views. I’m not naming names or pointing fingers — just being honest about what I saw and felt. It’s not about blame. It’s about trying to do better. This is shared in the hope of encouraging conversation, not conflict.