We went away for Easter which was planned ages ago, although I felt really anxious about it as it got closer realising how difficult everything was with Dad. We're back now and it was a lovely break and I didn't get a single panicky phone call from anyone - not social services, not the hospital, no one, not even the care home.
This is how the move to the CH happened. I arranged some family friends who are local movers to move dad's stuff including his beloved piano. I drove down the day before and my brothers packed what dad classed as 'essentials' into my big brother's car. These essentials included an unpacked suitcase full of clothes he hasn't worn in a very long time (all warm, some coats, he had the same coat in three colours), plus his shaving kit and a dog-eared toothbrush. Dad is very particular about the shaving thing.
My older brother took dad to an appointment and younger brother and I started sorting the paperwork. Or rather he started and I faffed around, horrified at what I had signed myself up for. It was overwhelming.
Paper was covering almost the entire floor in both rooms. It was also in various bags and boxes. It included a copy of his will, all the letters from the past 15 years about his second divorce, and junk mail and catalogues he'd kept. We threw away everything that was out of date, and in the end were left with a box - a single paperwork box, not even full - of stuff he needed to keep. We could have chucked even more I suspect but we erred on the side of caution to be sure as he has no online footprint. We made another pile of photos (dad has always been an avid photographer) and for now we've put them in a trunk where he keeps all his old slides etc. (Slides! Didn't even know they existed!)
Next was clothes. I wished, heartily, and repeatedly, for Marie Kondo to appear like a tiny fairy godmother at my side. I said to myself many many times: 'You will finish. You think that you won't, but you will'. I'm fairly sure I've butchered that KonMarie catchphrase but it got me through.
I threw out everything which was holey or stained. This was harder than it sounds due to dad having bought some fine clothing he's been wearing for 30 years like lovely woolen sweaters which actually looked fine until I realised the moths had eaten half the sleeve. I remember him wearing them when I was growing up and he was healthy. One heavy coat was moved in the first box and is quite motheaten but we'll have to live with that.
I found three long sleeved shirts, some t shirts, polo shirts and five button down shirts which had been bought but never worn, so I unpacked and labelled them and put them into a fold down holdall. This holdall Dad claimed wasn't his, but he had previously attached a luggage label to it with his name on it so he accepted that.
In fact Dad claimed that much of the stuff in the apartment was already there when he moved or wasn't his, but somehow they all had his name labels on so he thought they must be his. They were his and I put the labels on. Either way he seemed to accept it.
After his appointment Dad was supposed to go to the CH and start settling in but he insisted on coming back to the flat with my elder brother to help pack. I sat him down with some labels to pop on his clothes and he got bored and hungry after about three so I took him back to the CH and had a lovely cup of coffee with him and a welcome break from going through all his stuff.
By this point my brother had gone to the tip three times with car loads of rubbish and I still had a lot to do. I left dad having his tea and he came to see me out of the door much to the care worker's anxiety.
I went back to the apartment and finished packing up, labelling and sorting. I found the biggest spider I've ever seen behind the wooden trunk my brother has agreed to take and hoped he wouldn't eat the removal men in the morning.
I found some interesting things including a tablet computer, unopened and unused, a cheque dad hadn't paid in, some letters dad had written or at least written notes on and then not sent, and most strangely, some children's clothes. New, a christmas outfit for a newborn and a lovely coat for a toddler. They were the only things put away in a drawer in the kitchen. I wondered if he'd secretly been waiting for me to have a baby but then I remembered my cousin did, probably around the autumn last year and dad had probably bought them as christmas presents for the infant. Dad loves babies, human or animal, so I can imagine he bought them and then forgot them after putting them away.
I ended up with fifteen bin liners left over of rubbish I would need to dispose of myself. This was bound to be tricky as I don't live in the area and I knew they would question my ID.
I should also say at this point we also realised we had lost our LPA. My younger brother gave me the wrong address (yes, he does not know where his own house is, apparently) and it disappeared into someone else's letterbox, never to be seen again. So we had to quickly make a new one and get it printed. I managed to do this and find someone to witness and sign it for us. I'm now awaiting it in the post as my elder brother had to leave before it was signed so I posted it to him. This LPA has been a nightmare for us given we are all over the country.
I finished sorting the stuff at the apartment at about 8.30pm. I went to the supermarket to pick up underwear and a dressing gown for dad (I didn't find much underwear and I threw out his filthy dressing gowns) and some more bin liners as some were too heavy for their contents.
The next morning I was on my own until the movers arrived to haul everything out - not that there was a lot left by this point. I found some precious family photos all loose falling out of a mouldy album so took them home to re-make into an album.
They moved the piano first and dad took straight to it - he's not played in months and it brought tears to my eyes to see it. I spoke with the people there about dad's needs and likes etc, and left to clean the apartment.
Now empty save the bin liners, I loaded them somehow into my tiny car. Worried about getting rid of the (unused) shower stool, I took it to another CH across the road and they gladly took it off my hands. I did a first vacuum and clean of the surfaces and poured bleach down the toilet.
I headed to the tip with the final rubbish and took lots of dad's letters. They wanted me to bring him with me! I explained that really wasn't possible and they let me in. I felt that this was a real triumph, as I'm sure I would have sobbed if they hadn't agreed.
Then it was time to go back and tackle the bathroom. I wish I'd taken a before and after photo of the loo as it was coated in, well, everything you can imagine, inside and out, and now the place looks like a hotel.
It took hours and hours and I wasn't done until 6.30pm, having started at 9am. I went to drop a couple of extra things I'd found for dad and his clothes (all labelled) and to say goodbye to dad. He followed me out of the home asking when I'd be back, saying he'd wait for me there.
I got into the car and my husband called. I answered the phone in tears. Dad wasn't unhappy, just a bit confused and I had and have full faith he's in better hands, but it had been a long couple of days and an emotionally draining time.
I rang dad the next day and he was in good spirits. The home think he's settled in fine. I spoke to them again today and he's been to all the appointments he needed to go to and had some vital tests done which we needed to get sorted for him to be referred to the memory clinic. I don't think the finances are sorted out yet but dad has got out of the old place and is being well-cared for at present, so that's the most important thing. With the LPA on the way I hope it will be easier for us to help dad going forward.