Monday. D-Day

Everyone had a slow start today. Even though Reggie had got to Dad’s as planned, The Dog and I were running late. We still got Dad’s before he and Lesley were ready to leave though.

But, he looked better than he had done in a few days. Not a high bar I’ll grant you but better. Lesley was showing clear signs of sleep deprivation.

Eventually, she said..

“Right Dad. Are you ready?”

“Where are we going?”

“To The Home.”

“I thought that was tomorrow.”

“No, today. We’re aiming to get there for lunch.”

“And then we’re coming back home?”

“No Dad. They’ve agreed to let you stay while you get over these problems. It’ll be a couple of weeks to start with. Then we’ll see how we go.”

It felt odd pulling into the drop-off circle at the front door of The Home but there were smiles and warm hugs from everyone as I let myself in.

“You can bring The Dog in if you like!”

“That’s OK. I don’t think she’d cope. Your staff uniforms make you all look like the vet. She hates the vet. She’s a bit Ableist too. Walking sticks and frames unsettle her. But the big problem is how protective she’s become of Dad. She knows he’s not well and wants to look after him. Yesterday, she ran into his bedroom, jumped on the bed and lay across him so we wouldn’t do anything to him. If she saw your staff go near him, who knows what would happen.”

I left Lesley to get him settled and moved the car to the car park before getting ready to take The Dog for a walk down to the river. We didn’t get far. I messaged Lesley…

“Shots fired. Walk abandoned. She headed straight back to the car. If you need me to go back to the house for anything you’ve forgotten, let me know.”

“Trousers! He’s only got the pair he’s wearing!”

I spent the rest of the day shuttling back and forth for stuff he needed while Lesley was being bombarded with questions and information by the staff. But she was well past the point of being able to take anything in.

I picked her up later rather than leave her to get the train home.

“He seems alright. He ate more for lunch than I’ve seen him eat in ages.”

“That’s great! If we can get through the first few nights then we’ll be alright.”

Those were words I’d come to regret.

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