Thursday

Busy day for Lesley today. Dad was having a visit from his chiropodist, someone from adult social services was coming to replace the toilet seat that he broke and the meds that got missed off his last prescription needed to be collected. After dithering about whether he wanted a Christmas tree put up or not he’d decided that he did want one after all. So that needed sorting for him.

We store all his Christmas decorations here now. A little while ago, he’d had a blitz on clearing ‘stuff’ out of the house with the help of his handyman. He’d come across the boxes with his Christmas tree and the ornaments that Lesley had had when she was a child. Absolutely no financial value at all but a not insignificant sentimental value. He threw them out.

He has a history of this and has done it a few times. At around the same time when we were thinking of moving house we’d decluttered before the viewings. Not much financial value at all but a not insignificant sentimental value. Lesley thought it would be OK to store our stuff temporarily at his house. He threw them out.

So while he’s been happy to throw out things that he doesn’t value, his house is full to the brim with crap.

The replacement of his broken toilet seat provided a great example of the odd stuff he wants to keep. He didn’t like the idea of Social Services taking away the one he had.

With that idea blocked, he changed tack. He wanted it kept so that we could take it back to the store and get our money back. This argument did have more legs. The seat he broke was one I bought to replace the last seat he broke which was one that had been provided by Social Services. He’d broken it on a Saturday and we couldn’t wait for the following Monday to report it so I went to the local DIY shed and fitted it myself.

“Dad, they won’t take it back because you’ve been using it for months and it’s broken.”

“Well I didn’t break it!”

Bloody hell.

Meanwhile, I was attempting some DIY. The replacement door locks and been delivered. But The Dog’s anxiety was getting worse the longer Lesley was out and my frustration at working in poor light with the front door open only made her worse. It became a vicious circle. The more anxious she got, the more she barked. The more she barked, the more annoyed I got. The more annoyed I got, the more anxious she got. And so on. In the end I gave up and put the old locks back.

None of this was helped by a poor night’s sleep. The Dog is asking to go out in the garden in the early hours more and more often. This morning it was 3am and I got woken just at the wrong point in my sleep cycle. I couldn’t get back to sleep so tried reading. But the book I’m reading at the moment is about depression. It’s very good and very helpful but the number of things that resonated both now and at times over the past two or three decades weren’t conducive to sleep.

I got to The Home late. Obviously. Mum was awake. Sort of.

She looked terrible and was unhappy and uncomfortable. She was talkative and she carried on an indistinct and incoherent monologue for the entire visit. From what little I could understand I gathered she was talking about her uncles but I couldn’t tell which ones. There was also mention of a little boy and a little girl. I didn’t get the impression that they were there with us but she had seen them today at some point.

She kept fussing and fidgeting with her duvet. Throwing it off because she was hot and then pulling it back when she felt cold.

“Are you hot Mum?”

She nodded.

Her hands and forehead didn’t feel hot. She was cool and clammy. Her breathing was more shallow and rapid than normal. The last time I reported how sweaty Mum was I got told they found no sign of fever. She didn’t look right though.

Arriving at the time I did wasn’t ideal. The nurse from the day shift was on her way out of the door on her way home and the night shift were busy dealing with other residents. I’d just have to get there earlier tomorrow.

Mum heard a carer in the lounge ask if anyone wanted a cup of tea.

“Yes please!” she said.

Mum had already finished a milkshake and got half-way through her tea when she fell asleep.

Bibliography

Journeys with the Black Dog: Inspirational Stories of Bringing Depression to Heel

Kindle Edition

by Tessa Wigney

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