C
Chesca
Guest
Help!!!
Today has been one of my worst for a while, a culmination of the last week's experience of visiting Me darlin' Mrs P in the nursing home.
We were worried about her not eating very well, losing weight, but have been in to check at meal times, watched from the sidelines, and the staff are doing their wonderful stuff, letting her eat independently until she gives up and then assisting her before her food goes cold. In between times, of course, we are stuffing her up with treats, think I mentioned the pixie sandwiches Dad makes for her and feeds her, a very genteel afternoon tea, if you don't mind me saying so Jeeves.
I'm doing my normal denial thing, aren't I? Fact is, the other day in one of her more chatty moods I managed to get some kind of dialogue going, Mrs P told Dad he was cheeky when he teased her 'Mrs, you're looking rather lovely today, but you owe me for your hair do!'
But when chatting the pseudo chat you chat to maintain some kind of flow, she had looked troubled, more so than usual, and her reply to my asking if she was troubled? 'Daddy has put me away!' I was floored. Seeing my face a little taken aback, Dad, hard of hearing, asked what had been said and I dismissed it as a jumbly chat we have. It's haunted me for days.
This afternoon, me and the glorious Mrs P shared one or two of Mr Kipling's lemon slices, a recent favourite of hers. We chatted some of our jumbly, went a little walk, sat her comfortably and as I did the on-my-knees thing to smile to her eyes, she said to me as clear as a bell: I'm not happy! That makes two of us, was my thought. I'm absolutely bereft, tissue permanently to hand, a total mess.
And today I found out on asking where one of our favourite residents had gone, she was a joy even in her illness - a hug to a hello, a 'cheeky thing' reply if you asked her about the song she was singing. She had died - those were her lovely flowers in the foyer! We miss her.
We have recently been looking at houses for another move, the second in 18 months to accommodate this effing illness, the first being a knee jerk and totally logistically unsuitable for both Mum and Dad, him not being very mobile and us moving closer......but 3 floors up! There's clever! Just wanted to be closer at the time as urgency dictated. Total balls up on the accommodation front!
Just want the opportunity to bring Mum home sometimes, and for Dad to be able to drop in for a cup of tea, slug of scotch when needed, without having to feel as though I have three homes to look after - one hell of an interruption to any flow of a plan for the day.
I suppose I should dismiss Mrs Pumblechook's words as the rambling of the demented, but I can't, I know none of us are happy. If she could just come home every now and then for an hour or two, afternoon, overnight I could think of the rest as respite care. Am I kidding myself...............
don't say, of course you know you are. It's my fancy!
Chesca
And the bloody central heating has packed in again, need a hot toddy, that'll help - if only to sleep!
Today has been one of my worst for a while, a culmination of the last week's experience of visiting Me darlin' Mrs P in the nursing home.
We were worried about her not eating very well, losing weight, but have been in to check at meal times, watched from the sidelines, and the staff are doing their wonderful stuff, letting her eat independently until she gives up and then assisting her before her food goes cold. In between times, of course, we are stuffing her up with treats, think I mentioned the pixie sandwiches Dad makes for her and feeds her, a very genteel afternoon tea, if you don't mind me saying so Jeeves.
I'm doing my normal denial thing, aren't I? Fact is, the other day in one of her more chatty moods I managed to get some kind of dialogue going, Mrs P told Dad he was cheeky when he teased her 'Mrs, you're looking rather lovely today, but you owe me for your hair do!'
But when chatting the pseudo chat you chat to maintain some kind of flow, she had looked troubled, more so than usual, and her reply to my asking if she was troubled? 'Daddy has put me away!' I was floored. Seeing my face a little taken aback, Dad, hard of hearing, asked what had been said and I dismissed it as a jumbly chat we have. It's haunted me for days.
This afternoon, me and the glorious Mrs P shared one or two of Mr Kipling's lemon slices, a recent favourite of hers. We chatted some of our jumbly, went a little walk, sat her comfortably and as I did the on-my-knees thing to smile to her eyes, she said to me as clear as a bell: I'm not happy! That makes two of us, was my thought. I'm absolutely bereft, tissue permanently to hand, a total mess.
And today I found out on asking where one of our favourite residents had gone, she was a joy even in her illness - a hug to a hello, a 'cheeky thing' reply if you asked her about the song she was singing. She had died - those were her lovely flowers in the foyer! We miss her.
We have recently been looking at houses for another move, the second in 18 months to accommodate this effing illness, the first being a knee jerk and totally logistically unsuitable for both Mum and Dad, him not being very mobile and us moving closer......but 3 floors up! There's clever! Just wanted to be closer at the time as urgency dictated. Total balls up on the accommodation front!
Just want the opportunity to bring Mum home sometimes, and for Dad to be able to drop in for a cup of tea, slug of scotch when needed, without having to feel as though I have three homes to look after - one hell of an interruption to any flow of a plan for the day.
I suppose I should dismiss Mrs Pumblechook's words as the rambling of the demented, but I can't, I know none of us are happy. If she could just come home every now and then for an hour or two, afternoon, overnight I could think of the rest as respite care. Am I kidding myself...............
don't say, of course you know you are. It's my fancy!
Chesca
And the bloody central heating has packed in again, need a hot toddy, that'll help - if only to sleep!