Tuesday

Another day at home! That’s two on the trot! The Dog wasn’t happy that Lesley had gone out and left us behind again but she seemed to be getting used to the idea now. There was less resistance to me making suggestions on where we went on our walk than there had been yesterday and she wasn’t as sulky.

The day had started early though. The Dog woke me up twice to be taken out to go to the toilet. 2:30am and again at 5.

The kettle got put on after the second trip out. A pot of tea was made. Lesley was awake and reviewing the carnage of her WhatsApps from yesterday evening and was preparing a reply to her sister.

“That’s really long. I don’t think you’ll be able to send all that in one go…”

The phone got handed to me.

“Will you save that somewhere? It’ll be a few hours before she’s awake anyway”

Good idea. Letting her stew for a bit wouldn’t hurt.

Then the messages from Lesley’s dad’s carer started coming in.

“The Young Man is fine today. Guess what I found!…”

What followed was a photo of the hitherto missing toothbrush. In a box from a tube of toothpaste. In the bathroom cupboard. Obviously.

Soon afterwards there were another two photos.

“He’s got a rash”

A telephone appointment with the GP got made. The photos got forwarded.

Then a call from the Palliative Care team. I could hear funding for care being discussed.

“Well that was a useful call. The support available if he goes into a nursing home because of his mesothelioma is pretty good. There’s nothing if the cause is Alzheimer’s though…”

There’ll be no prizes for guessing how that will pan out.

From there to an appointment to see The Manager at The Home where Mum had been.

Dad’s current care arrangements got discussed.

“He has an informal arrangement with a couple of experienced carers who visit him on their days off.”

“Experienced?”

“Yes, well, it’s a couple of your staff actually.”

“Really!? Who?”

“I don’t want to name names. I don’t want anyone to get in trouble”

“Why would they be in trouble if they are doing it in their own time?”

Names were named. The Manager was delighted.

“That will really help with the transition!”

Lesley also mentioned that my name seemed to be a passport to everywhere.

“I got offered a cup of coffee. I asked for a milky one with no sugar. “I’m not Mrs Two-Sugars!” I got blank looks. I told them my husband always thinks you’re trying to make him feel bad when he has Two Sugars. That’s when they realised who I was. Pretty soon, everybody knew and they all wanted to talk to me. All because they liked you so much.”

The Home and all the staff met Lesley’s approval. It was wasn’t like the Fancy Hotel-type care homes which are designed to be nice for family to visit rather than meeting the needs of the resident. Neither was it spartan and clinical. It was a Home. The staff, and Lesley was impressed by just how many there were, were all happy. The residents were all active and engaged in something.

“They’re all living out their quiet, small lives rather than sitting isolated and waiting for The End”

From The Home, Lesley went off to spend a couple of hours with her dad. The day got rounded off by another conversation with another GP about Dad’s rash. The photos were going to be sent off to Dermatology for a second opinion but on the face of it they were likely to be linked to Dad’s mesothelioma. They weren’t hot, swollen or painful and it was probable that no treatment would be applied.

Little to do now before Lesley’s sister arrived. We were looking forward to a long 10 days.

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