Monday

We had a relatively normal start to the day today. The Dog got her walk with both her Humans. That was only marred by an encounter with a dog walker who had too many dogs to be able to control them all. While she’s now able to come quite close to another dog without reacting The Dog still doesn’t like dogs running at her and “getting right up in her grill”. There was a lot of noise and pushing and shoving but The Dog came through unscathed. Physically at least.

On the rare occasions that The Dog had been in a fight before it could take a long time for her to recover mentally. When we first got her from rescue it could take three or fours days to calm down after a fight. Today, a minute or two was all that was needed for her to unfreeze and carry on with the walk. So proud of her. She’s come a long way.

The rest of the day wasn’t so normal. Lesley had a meeting planned with a lady from a major agency providing care in the home. She was there, or so we were led to believe, to assess Dad and propose a care package. The meeting was set for when Lesley’s dad got home from the day centre.

Dad was a bit late getting back so the meeting had already started when the volunteer driver rang the doorbell.

“Thank God you’re here! Your dad’s collapsed! His legs just gave way and he can’t walk!”

Dad was unceremonially lifted out of the car and laid on his recliner armchair using, apparently, an unorthodox technique that won’t be found in any first aid or patient care manual.

The care agency rep suggested that emergency services be called. Lesley said that someone who I need to refer to as “another member of the family” declined the advice.

The reason behind the decision, apparently, was that she wasn’t going to take the advice of someone who wasn’t a nurse. But then hardly anyone who makes the decision to dial 999 ever is, are they? I still can’t fathom what her motives or thought processes are.

“It’s unfair on the volunteer drivers to put them in that position. They’re not trained to handle it. What if they drop him or hurt themselves?  What happens then? If he can’t get in or out of the car under his own steam then he can’t go surely.” I pointed out unnecessarily.

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