Sunday

I let the family know that there had been no phone-call from The Home overnight and that I’d be getting an update from Reggie and Sean when they started their shift at 8. The message saying that Mum was still with us and that she was comfortable came in at 8:01.

That wasn’t to say there were no phone-calls. The on-call GP had called me at 6 by mistake. She’d thought my number was for one of the nurses at The Home.

I made a mental note to change the ring-tone on my phone. The Dog is getting traumatised by this one. The Big Human’s phone rings, he jumps up, gets highly stressed, picks up his car key, runs out of the house leaving her behind and disappears for hours. She hates it.

I started the day as normally as I could. Had a proper breakfast and walked The Dog. That walk gave me an hour to get my head together and give 100% focus to something that wasn’t stressful.

The prescription for what Reggie calls the ‘End of Life Meds’ had been signed off overnight by the out of hours GP and Reggie had been to collect them. The Home uses the pharmacy at the local Tesco store so with it being a Sunday Mum had had to wait until after 10. That’s a regular run for Reggie. They always send him for that job and I’d bumped into him a few times in Tesco when he was doing the run for another resident.

Mum had already had a dose of something when I got to her. She was peaceful but unresponsive and appeared to be unaware that anyone was with her.

But the longer I stayed, the clearer it got that the meds hadn’t completely knocked her out. She was still doing the cycle that she’d been doing yesterday evening. She’d come round, move a bit and open her eyes. I’d lean over and she’d look me in the face.

“It’s OK Mum. It’s Nick. I’m going to stay here with you. The nurses are working hard to keep you comfortable. You just need to relax and let them get on with it. Just go back to sleep.”

It was the same 20 minute routine as it had been last night but with a lot less fear, confusion and frustration in her eyes. I had no idea whether she knew it was me there but for a few seconds every hour she knew she was cared for. When her agitation in the wakeful spells got too much she was given another dose of something.

I was amazed at the skill of the nurses. Mum wasn’t so under-medicated that she was in any great distress but not so over-medicated that she was totally unconscious.

While it was a lot easier than yesterday had been for me, it wasn’t that pleasant for Mum. The catastrophically low level of oxygen in her blood was starting to show physical signs – her hands were turning black.

I sat with her as long as I could bear. I told Reggie I was going home for a break and he assured me he’d sit with her until I got back.

Once I’d got myself together and had something to eat I went back to get caught up with news from Reggie and the rest of the nurses and carers. I carried on sitting with Mum until the shift handover.

Barbara did the handover for Mum in Mum’s room and they let me sit in on it.

“That hunching of her shoulders… She’s not comfortable…” Barbara told me.

While there were two nurses present they gave Mum another dose of something.

“Mum’s not aware that I’m here now is she. She’s not aware that anyone’s here.”

“No, she isn’t. That means that if you stay you’re doing it for you, not her.” Barbara said firmly.

“Yeah. I was going to say that. It’s time to leave it to the professionals isn’t it.”

“Yes. Go home.”

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