Friday

Tricky day all round today. But then it’s Friday the 13th so no surprise.

We began with a message from Lesley’s dad’s carer telling us that he wasn’t well and wouldn’t be going. We kept an eye on the webcam so that we’d know when Dad was up and it was safe to call him to let him know he’d have to get himself ready for the day centre on his own.

Dad’s normally up by 8. When it got to nearly 9 and there was still no sign of him, Lesley had to call anyway. He was still in bed.

What was really interesting was that he heard perfectly. The news was important to him and he could hear without his hearing aids in. If he’s being given instructions then it’s all “Sorry? I’m not hearing too well.” even with his hearing aids in. His audiologists are right. His deafness is selective.

Lesley then began the task of ringing round to find out who would be giving him a lift to the day centre to warn them that he’d be late. I don’t know how he did it but we got the message later that he made it there safely. I suspect that he skipped breakfast.

 I got to The Home in time to have a good long chat with the nurse in charge upstairs about Mum.

I found Mum awake and incoherent. Sweating but not hot. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. She was with-it enough to have a quick drink of squash.

Normally when I go in her room and take her hand she flinches away and says:

“Ooh! Blimey! You’re cold!!”

Not today. She didn’t respond at all.

The nurse appeared.

“Mum’s struggling isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s stopped eating now.”

“What, altogether? She doesn’t even eat her breakfast now?”

“No, just milkshakes now and she takes a long time…”

“I know. The last one I assisted with took 45 minutes”

“Hmm…”

“And her breathing has changed…”

“Her chest was noisy today…”

All the carers in the lounge heard the conversation start and began explaining what they were doing to keep Mum comfortable. I didn’t know if they were trying to hide their concern or not but if they were trying to then they didn’t manage it.

“There’s not much we can do now.”

“No. I know. Just keep her comfortable.”

Nobody said what they thought Mum’s prospects were and I didn’t think it was fair to ask.

The room cleared and I sat down with Mum. Normally I would flip her pillow over so she had a cool fresh side to lie on. She didn’t have the strength to lift her head today.

There’s a thing Mum does where she thinks she has something in her mouth – like a stray hair or something – which I’ve assumed is a hallucination as it happens so often. She tries to pick it off her tongue with her fingers. She didn’t have the strength to lift her hand to her mouth today.

A carer appeared with a drink for me. I let Lesley know in the running commentary I do for her.

“I’ve just been brought coffee with two sugars and pink wafer biscuits. They have a particular way of saying “Two Sugars” to make me feel guilty”

“Are they female? Or is it simply your conscience?”

“Young, female and Indian”

“You don’t stand a chance”

That made me laugh.

I sat and listened to Mum and her incoherent and indistinct monologue and tried to make the appropriate responses where I could. I didn’t think I was that successful as I began to get the impression that she was trying to tell me something and was getting frustrated that she couldn’t make herself understood.

As her frustration grew, so did her anxiety, agitation and animation. I thought she was trying to get out of bed. Not that she’s got the strength to, obviously.

None of that seemed especially concerning. Mum does a version of that agitation and animation every Sleepy/Active cycle on the last day before going to sleep.

I spent the end of my visit trying to reassure her…

“It doesn’t sound like it’s anything to worry about Mum…

“I’m sure it’ll be alright…

“Sounds like something that’ll be sorted by a good night’s sleep Mum. We’ll sort it in the morning…

“Don’t worry Mum. I’ve got it all under control…

“Just relax and leave it to me…”

Twenty minutes of that settled her down.

I left before she could forget what I’d said.

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