Mum (vascular dementia and COPD) has just spent the last hour looking for a small, cream, M&S carrier bag which contains her ventolin and her reading glasses and which she needs at bedtime. The stairlift has been up and down several times, we've looked in her bathroom, her bedroom and her living room, several times. Eventually my husband asked what was wrong. I remembered seeing an M&S carrier bag by the back door, waiting to go in the bin (mum likes to put everything into "a little parcel" and tie it with a double knot). I asked H what colour the bag was.
Green, he said.
Good, I said, it wasn't cream.
Yes, he said, green,
.............this continued for many minutes.....then he said:
There were teabags on the floor
Teabags?
Yes. Teabags.
Why, I asked, would there be teabags on the floor.
THREE BAGS, he said, getting rather annoyed, THREE BAGS waiting to go out.
Good.
So here I am. Mum has found her bag now. She had put her socks in a bag and the bag had torn, so she needed a new bag for her socks, so she put the socks in the bag that had her ventolin and her reading glasses.....
I just needed therapy!
Nightowl
Green, he said.
Good, I said, it wasn't cream.
Yes, he said, green,
.............this continued for many minutes.....then he said:
There were teabags on the floor
Teabags?
Yes. Teabags.
Why, I asked, would there be teabags on the floor.
THREE BAGS, he said, getting rather annoyed, THREE BAGS waiting to go out.
Good.
So here I am. Mum has found her bag now. She had put her socks in a bag and the bag had torn, so she needed a new bag for her socks, so she put the socks in the bag that had her ventolin and her reading glasses.....
I just needed therapy!
Nightowl