Wednesday

I could hear mum talking before I’d even got in her room this evening.

“Hello mum! Where’s all this water come from?”

There was a large, cup-of-squash-sized puddle in the middle of the floor.

“Here. Have this. It’s wet.”

She handed me the corner of her blanket. She was right. It was wet. In fact, there was a large wet patch in the middle of it. I lifted it off her to check how much had got through but her trousers are more or less dry. I warned her that I was going to check if she was warm enough. Her feet were like blocks of ice.

“You’re freezing Mum.”

“Yeah”

There was no spare blanket in her wardrobe so I headed off to find assistance. I hadn’t even got to the door when she resumed the conversation she was having before I arrived.

“OK mum, Dora’s on her way. I’m going to clear up this puddle on the floor.”

She just carried on talking.

I saw Glenys leaving Pat’s room.

“Any problems giving Mum her meds tonight? She spat them out last night.”

“Yes. She’s been quite ‘active’ today and she says she doesn’t like yoghurt any more. I had to dissolve them in water instead.”

Dora arrived with a complete new set of bedding and changed mum into her jimjams. When I returned to mum it was evident that her pad has been changed too but it was too cold to open a window.

With mum settled we could talk properly and I explained why I was so late. Lesley’s dad had decided he wanted to invite the neighbours round for his birthday on Saturday. Lesley was there all day trying to make the place less of a health hazard and tidying up so people had somewhere to sit.

Lesley also had to do all the invitations. The most interesting conversations were with the staff and volunteers at the day centre who were only too keen to tell her what they think. It didn’t match with what he thinks they think. Odd that.

The cognitive dissonance is strong with these people. They know he’s a compulsive liar and a bigot with disgusting personal habits but still think he’s a sweet old man.

And then, just as she’s ready to come home, his stair lift stops working. Bit of a problem for a man who can’t get upstairs unaided and needs the bathroom every 10 minutes. In spite of his protestations “That’s not how you do it!” Lesley worked out that he’d switched it off at the wall.

Mum’s view?

“Silly old soul”

I spotted the latest edition of the parish newsletter on her cabinet so I read it to her. To start the new year they’re looking at the accounts of Jesus in the gospels and examine who he was and why he came. So I get to the bit  where it says:

“There are four gospels; Matthew, Mark, Luke and John”

Without any hesitation she said

“Went to bed with their trousers on… Sorry!”

I did actually finish reading without further interruption.

Then she asked where Sister-in-Law was. I told her that I presumed she was at home with Brother. I felt the need to add “I’m Nick” for clarification.

No reaction.

“And Lesley’s at home with the dog.”

“Best place for her”

As I was signing out I noticed I’d been there an hour.

Seemed much longer.

Author’s Note

My Mum is in a nursing home in a small village in the Thames Valley. The photo is not of the home. I used an AI image generator to give the reader some idea of the home she’s in.

All, some or maybe even none (you’ll never know!) of the names have been changed to protect privacy and hide real identities. If you think you recognise someone then let me know and I’ll edit the post or remove it entirely