Thursday

Slow start to the day for everyone today. The Dog had woken me in the early hours again because she to ‘use the restroom’. I had staggered out of bed and had gone to open the back door but she declined that and was waiting at the front door. She will pee in the back garden in extremis but for anything more serious she has to go out away from the house. I had to go back to the bedroom, get dressed, arm myself with poo bags and a torch and go out.

Being out in the cold really woke me up and I just couldn’t get back to sleep. I lay awake worrying and dithering about what we should be doing about Lesley’s dad.

Lesley’s dad’s carer called after his visit. Dad had been slow to wake, breathless, weak and wobbly this morning. That’s all standard now. The unusual thing was that Dad had been talking to him.

Dad had admitted that he wasn’t coping and that he thought he needed more help. Dad knew that his carer worked in a nursing home and had been asking all sorts of questions about them.

“Thanks for letting me know mate. We’re going over ourselves later. If he’s still thinking the same thing then then we can start planning a visit so he can see for himself.”

The carer had called me from home which is about 20 minutes from Dad. I checked Dad’s webcam. He was already sound asleep in his armchair.

Dad was awake by the time we got there. Just. The row of drinks that had been prepared earlier were sitting on his trolley. All untouched.

“We’ve got you your favourite sandwich for your lunch. Do you want it now?”

“Yeah”

He managed half of it.

“No! Don’t give it to The Dog! I’ll wrap it up and you can have it later!”

While he was eating, Lesley checked his meds.

“Look at this. He didn’t take any of them yesterday. Didn’t even have the ones he takes with his breakfast and he never forgets those.”

I nearly asked him whether he’d had any breakfast yesterday but realised the question would be futile before I opened my mouth.

We took The Dog out for a walk. A new walk. We followed a path that ran from the church in Dad’s village to the church in the town a couple of miles away. The landscape round here is man-made – the result of grazing livestock over centuries – and properly ancient. The Ridgeway isn’t far away. A footpath that’s been in constant use for thousands of years. A route that would be recognised by Bronze-Age Britons. The footpath we were on was probably laid out and used by Saxons.

The weather was cold and misty. Not dank, miserable mist. It was light, mystical mist. I could feel the ancientness all round me and under my feet. Lots of places round here have that special feel. You feel that connection with simpler times. Well, I do anyway.

On our return to the 21st century, Lesley asked Dad what he wanted for his tea.

“I wrapped the second half of your sandwich and put it in the fridge. You can have it now for your tea if you like or you can have this chicken curry.”

“Curry.”

He prodded and picked at it for a while before pushing it away.

“You’ve only eaten the meat. Don’t you want the sauce or the rice?”

“No. It’s too much.”

“OK”

Lesley went to scrape the remains, i.e. the bulk of the meal, into his food waste bin. That’s where she found what looked like an intact Christmas lunch.

“Didn’t you eat your Christmas lunch yesterday Dad?”

“I had some of the meat but it was too much”

There wasn’t great deal of evidence that he’d even eaten that much to my eye.

He really had had a bad day yesterday. Woke up late, probably had no breakfast, forgot his meds. slept all morning, picked at his lunch, slept all afternoon and went to bed at 7. We hadn’t seen a drink of any sort anywhere near him all day.

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