Sunday

Gentle, short walks were the order of the day for The Dog. She was walking much more normally today but we didn’t want to risk making that broken claw any more sore than it already was. She let me have a close look at it before we went out and again after we’d got back from the first walk. It still looked a bit raw but it was clean and it didn’t look like she’d been licking or chewing it all night. I still thought that the trip to the Vet was unnecessary.

It’s not straightforward with The Dog. She hates the Vet and has to be sedated and muzzled if they’re going to get anywhere near her. Frankly, we were amazed that she let me look closely at the wound. That was a first.

Mum was dozing when I walked into her room.

“Hello Mum!”

“Nick! It’s Nick!”

Mum should have been at Day Two of her wakeful phase today. A bit less groggy, a bit less uncomfortable, a bit more cheerful and communicative.

But she wasn’t. She very much wasn’t.

If anything, today was a re-run of yesterday. The only difference was that she was a lot more sleepy and made even less of an effort to speak than she did yesterday. When I asked her yesterday how she was feeling she said “Bit better.” She didn’t bother answering me today. She didn’t just look unhappy today. She looked… resigned. Hopeless, helpless and resigned.

“The Dog seems to be getting better. She’s walking much more normally than she was yesterday. She wanted a longer walk but she caught that bad toe a couple of times and it made her limp a bit. She got the right hump when we made her go home.”

No response.

Her carer came in with her tea.

“I’ve got her milkshake. She should drink that OK. But she hasn’t eaten anything today. Could you try to get her to eat some yoghurt?”

“OK. I’ll try. But Mum really likes these little fruit jelly sweets that I get from Tesco. She may only eat one but they’re never any problem. I tried her with one just now and even though she said she wanted one she chewed it a bit and then spat it back out into my hand. If she won’t eat one of these then… well… you know…”

The carer left us and returned with a meal for me. When Mum was in the last home, Steve had told me that the residents always eat more if they’re eating with other people to keep them company. The meal that was in front of me was as much to encourage Mum to eat as it was for me to eat.

The ruse didn’t work. Mum drank her milkshake quite quickly but refused the yoghurt after just a couple of teaspoonfuls.

I went back to the book she likes and read a chapter because I’d run out of things to say but she didn’t respond. She just drifted in and out of sleep like she had for the rest of the visit except when she was drinking her milkshake. Eventually, she drifted off into proper, deep, unresponsive sleep.

That was concerning but also impressive. Eleanor was having a bad afternoon and the racket coming from across the corridor was awful. I hadn’t been that aware of residents getting fixated on sitting in a particular seat before. Before having been in a nursing home I would’ve expected it to happen all the time if the stereotype is to be believed but I’d never seen anyone getting upset. Until today. And Eleanor was absolutely furious. She was furious when I’d arrived and was still furious when I left. And she was loud with it.

I met the nurse in charge of the top floor on my way out as she was about to start the afternoon meds round. I think my face told her how I was feeling about Mum not eating and being a lot more sleepy than her ‘normal’ schedule would suggest she should be.

“She likes her porridge in the morning. Always eats a full bowl. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

Fine? I’ll believe it when I see it.

Bloody hell.

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