Tuesday

Lesley’s sister flew back home today. We checked how Dad was on the webcam. He looked terrible. His breathing was laboured and he looked exhausted. He was struggling more to get comfortable in his armchair than I’d seen before. The lady who comes to help him have a bath on a Tuesday called to say that he looked bad. Utterly breathless and totally drained of energy. He was too tired to have a bath today.

He’d had a week of keeping up appearances and trying to hold it all together for his grandson’s sake. Normally, he would have a full day of rest after each trip to the day centre and he would’ve been able to rest for the entire weekend. Not this week. He’d been out to lunch on the days when he should have been having a rest. The visit had just worn him out.

We agreed that it had been worth it for him. You only had to look at the smile on his face to know that. If it means that he’d exchanged a few weeks of miserable struggle for a week of undeniable pleasure then that seemed like a good deal. I suspect that he’ll be back close to what passes for normal by the end of the week.

Lesley was due to visit him this afternoon anyway. He was expecting a visit from a nurse who is a dementia specialist. The only difference for us was that Lesley left a little earlier than we’d planned. Early enough for me not to have time to visit Mum before she left.

My suspicion that he’d pull round in a few days evaporated when Lesley got to him. He’d already gone to bed and couldn’t be woken. He missed the dementia nurse altogether. Lesley got a call from the palliative care team. Their view was that his mesothelioma had progressed to the point where he could no longer rely on paracetamol to manage his pain. Time for something a bit stronger.

Meanwhile, Lesley had to stay until she could wake him up in order to get him to eat something and have a drink. She couldn’t afford for him not to have anything from lunchtime until the following morning. Not after last time.

By the time I got to Mum she had been changed by the night shift and the night nurse was doing her rounds.

Mum recognised me straight away and said she was pleased I’d come to see her.

“I’m here every day Mum. Whether you like it or not.”

“Well you’re the only one who is!”

I went through the explanation again. That Mum was in the countryside near me because her other kids were still working full time and I was the only one able to visit her every day. I wouldn’t be able to do that if she’d stayed near her home.

I went through a list of celebrities who lived in the area to give her some idea of how desirable her address was. Weirdly, what really piqued her interest was some local history.

“Over a thousand years ago, King Alfred the Great and his father and brother fought the Vikings in battles all round here so this area is really important in forming England as a country.”

“Blimey!”

“And one of William the Conqueror’s sons, Henry I, is buried in an abbey up the road”

“Is he!?”

“Would you like a drink?”

“Yeah”

We chatted a bit more. She seemed to be in good spirits and was calm and comfortable. I thought that was unusual. If she’s even the slightest bit lucid then she’s sufficiently aware of the state she’s in to make herself miserable.

I read to her for a bit. Another lap round Father Okoli’s Cotswold parish was completed.

The more Mum talked, the more surreal and less distinct what she said got. That’s pretty typical for Mum if you let her run a conversation. Her dad had been with her earlier but he had left for some reason. And there was an account of the little boy who comes to see her in the mornings.

Then she said it was a shame I couldn’t get into bed with her.

“I think they’d have something to say about it if I did Mum. Anyway, the bed wouldn’t take it. The pressure in your mattress is adjusted to keep you comfortable. You’re as light as a feather and I’m too bloody fat!”

“You said that, not me!” she laughed.

There seemed to have been a lot of laughter this evening.

Then there was a voice behind me.

“Hello Nick!”

It was the night nurse with Mum’s meds.

“Let me get out of your way…”

“Thank-you Nick. Did you know this is the first time I’ve seen Iris awake?”

There was some more chat, more laughing and Mum didn’t even get upset when I said it was late and that it was time I went home.

Best visit in ages. 

Bibliography

Tales from the Parish: 31 humorous short stories about community, family and village life, set in the English countryside

Kindle Edition

by Stefania Hartley

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