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melting but not down

Wednesday, 5 August 2009

..or sadly familiar...

...Monday afternoon. Round to mum's to be there when the plumber comes to fix the toilet handle. From a cheery welcome we hurtled into a huge row precipitated by:
me: there was no burglary!
mum: are you saying I made it up?
me: yes, I think you did!
mum: why would I do such a thing?
me: to make sure I came round to be company for you (startling how I'm speaking my mind these days!)
mum: go to hell!
....anyway, there was much super-powered indignation from mum for quite a while after that, along the lines of I was trying to make out she was "barmy", as a result of which she was afraid of me and if I kept it up she would get her solicitor on to me. She didn't want anything more to do with me, I did nothing for her, she had managed on her own for 10 years. (?!) By this time I had calmed down and was trying to get her to recognise that her memory loss was getting so bad it was no longer safe for her to stay in her bungalow but that she should reconsider the flat near me or a retirement home. More "trying to shove me in a home/will speak to my solicitor" guff. Persevered with pointing out the pros of both options. Fell on deaf ears, ha ha. OK, says I, if you don't want me to get involved I'll ask your doctor to help. Oh dear. "Plotting with my doctor now, don't you dare speak to the doctor...solicitor...show you up".

Somewhere in all this, mum found Mr Lily's £300, hidden inside a spectacle case. I found it extremely amusing when she said that she used to think he was a bad influence on me but now realised it was all me! The plumber arrived and fixed the loo. After he'd gone I asked mum if she still wanted me to take her shopping on Saturday (imagine, four whole days without having to go round!). I'm sure this was when she realised that perhaps she'd been a little hasty with the shunning. We agreed I'd take her shopping on Wednesday.

I was nearly home when Mr Lily rang to say mum had phoned. I'd left my purse behind. I returned to mum's. She said she didn't want us to fall out. I had another go at promoting alternative accommodation or at least making things easier for herself in the bungalow by getting some help in and asked her to think about it.

Tuesday morning. Mum phones. Can I come round, she can't find her keys. Exhale. I went.

1 comment:

cornbread hell said...

i can't believe how tired this is all making me feel.

i can't imagine how exhausted you must be.