Friday

As I was confident that Mum would be sleepy and unresponsive today I granted myself a Mental Health day.

Not having to factor in a visit to Mum meant I was free to tackle one of the bigger tasks on my To Do list. First on the list as the weather looked OK was the garden. A few days ago there had been a knock on the door. A gardener was looking for business and said that my neighbour had told him (yeah, right) that I had some shrubs and bushes that needed attention. I said thanks but no thanks but when I looked I realised that the Virginia Creeper had run completely out of control and was spilling over the garden wall into his garden. It had sent runners along the ground the full length of our garden fence and up the wall at the bottom of the garden and was smothering roses and clematis along the way. It looked like a huge unpicking job and not one I’d trust to some random hacker who knocked on my door. I’d done two hours on it before Lesley and The Dog got out of bed.

We had a leisurely breakfast watching the news from the US on YouTube. Watching the Democrats turn their situation around and seeing Trump unravel was comforting.

Then, time to walk The Dog. Nothing too strenuous today as she’s still getting over her stomach bug. While we were out, Lesley took calls from her dad’s GP and his palliative care team lead.

So far, so good.

But then the manager at Lesley’s dad’s day centre sent a message saying he’d complained of being in pain and had said the paracetamol “wasn’t cutting it” any more. If only he’d said something a couple of hours earlier. Then his medics wouldn’t have been told he was doing OK.

Bloody hell.

Earlier in the week I’d had an email from my GP practice inviting me to make an appointment for a hypertension review following the readings I’d submitted online. I selected Friday as I knew I wouldn’t be visiting Mum. Although I’d picked a 1pm call the confirmation email said “in the afternoon”. My GP would call me when she got 10 minutes spare.

Only she didn’t.

I kept myself busy unpicking creeper roots and shoots and trying not to clock-watch. By the time I’d decided I ought to give them a call to see what was going on they had closed their switchboard.

A Mental Health day ruined and extra stress on someone waiting for a hypertension review wasn’t what I’d hoped for.

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