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melting but not down

Friday, 11 November 2011

Wednesday, 9 November 2011


Mum hasn't eaten for a week or two, hasn't drank for 5 days.  When weighed a couple of weeks ago she was 4 stone 9 pounds (65 pounds) but will be a lot less now.  She's permanently bedridden and mostly asleep, a bundle of skin and bone.  Now and then she makes a little "ooh" noise and shifts her limbs slightly, once in a while she opens her sunken eyes but they stare blankly and briefly ahead before closing again.  She was 92 on Sunday, I don't think my "Happy Birthday Mum!" registered at all.  The doctor has prescribed Oromorph to reduce pain/agitation.  Mum lies on an air mattress and the care home staff turn her every 4 hours to reduce the chance of pressure sores but she is starting to get red patches on the boniest parts of her body.  I've been advised that the end is probably days rather than weeks away, everyone is amazed at what a tough old bird she is. Surprising how exhausting waiting for the inevitable is.  I wake up in the early hours most nights and am dragging myself through the day at work, mobile always in reach in case the home calls and says its time to say goodbye. I wish it were over.

Sunday, 9 October 2011


Now that I'm going to be a grandma (next April), I've been inspired to finish Mr Lily's tank top and my winter cardigan, to clear the decks for baby clothes.  As usual, all I want to do is surf free knitting pattern sites and get those needles clicking, housework can go hang.  It helps to keep occupied - mum is not well at all, she still hasn't regained her speech or full mobility on her right side so I'm sure she had a stroke after that fall.  She sleeps and moans a lot, as though she's in pain, but spits out her medication - even the liquid painkiller.  She hasn't eaten for a couple of days and if she doesn't pick up today the home will call the doctor out on Monday to see whether s/he thinks the End of Life protocol should be put in place, with MacMillan nurse care, etc.

Saturday, 17 September 2011

what do you think of it so far?

my home made aphasia communication chart -

Friday, 9 September 2011


The doctor has been out to see mum and has agreed that she should not go through that awful hospital experience again.  He has told the care home staff that unless she has broken bones or is bleeding badly, they should just put her to bed when poorly and send for the doctor.  Hope it works.

Does anyone know of a visual aid for those who can't speak, to express their needs like hunger, tired, in pain etc?  I did see one picture book on the net but it was about £45!

Monday, 5 September 2011

the sparrow has landed

Mum arrived back at the care home this afternoon, the hospital did not discharge her with a diagnosis or any test results.  The care home staff said she was starving and munched her way through lots of food on her arrival - no difficulty with swallowing at all!  When my daughter and I went to see her tonight, she had another sandwich, a biscuit and a few sips of tea.  She still can't talk but seemed  happy to be back in familiar surroundings.  Surprisingly she wasn't resting in bed after her ordeal - staff said she kept trying to get out so they put her in the lounge with the other residents where she enjoyed the company.  Her eyes are still a little hooded and her right side is still weak, she has limited use of her right arm and hand, but hopefully will improve with time.  Altogether, she looked much better than I'd expected.  So glad we got her out of hospital before she starved to death!

Sunday, 4 September 2011

there's reasonable treatment and there's unreasonable treatment....

Went to see mum this afternoon.  The back of her left hand is black and blue where the first cannula was.  Apparently it stopped working so they removed it and tried to insert a cannula in the back of her right hand, now also black and blue, but failed.  The new cannula is in her right arm.  I can only imagine mum's pain and distress as all this was going on.  They're planning to give her a third brain scan but will sedate her completely beforehand to make sure she doesn't move - I can't help thinking the anaesthetic might finish her off.  I don't understand why they're persisting with these procedures.  We were told on Friday night that although there's a 4 hour window to give a blood clot busting injection to potential stroke victims, mum wouldn't be getting one because of her age.  So why pursue the brain scan - there's probably nothing they could or would do if they did find a bleed.

Mum still can't talk, she mutters as though her jaws are stuck together but some of the old mum has returned - you should have seen the dismissive wave of the hand accompanying one 'sentence', directed at the nurse who had been talking to us!  Probably a good job she can't be understood at present.  I got her to take a few tiny sips of chocolate mousse - the nurses were surprised and said that was more than they had managed, they can't have tried very hard.  I just don't think she's getting the quality of care in hospital that she would have in the home, can't wait to get her back there.  I have to phone the hospital tomorrow afternoon to find out what the consultant has decided.

as one door closes......

Mum was admitted to hospital on Friday.  I got there at 7pm, about three quarters of an hour after her, my daughter arrived at about 8.30pm and we stayed with mum until around 2am.  During all that time we gave umpteen different health professionals the same medical background history but not one of them passed it on to the next.  Nor did anyone check mum's records on the computer but asked us for details that we couldn't provide, such as what type of dementia mum has (no-one has ever told us) and what side of her body was affected after her stroke in December 2007 (can't remember!).  Poor mum had to endure lots of manhandling which was often painful.  The worst was when she had to be sedated because she wouldn't keep still for the brain scan to check for a bleed in the brain, the doctor fetched my daughter and I to keep her calm while they fitted a cannula in her hand, we had to hold her arms down while they did it and mum was crying out and clawing at us, trying to push us away the whole time. So upsetting. In the end, I had to don a lead apron and stay with her during the scan but still couldn't keep her from moving now and then, with the result that the scans weren't very clear and she had to go through it all again the next day.  The clincher was the last doctor she saw in the early hours of the morning, a sadist who insisted on banging away at her limbs with a stick to test her reflexes as she fought back at him, clearly in pain.  He did not seem to be willing to accept that mum had probably had another stroke, despite all the supporting evidence, and wanted to go down the infection route, subjecting her to a blood test there and then.
This is an extract from the information sheet I gave the ward sister yesterday:

Medical History
TB during WW2, currently diagnosed with angina, high blood pressure, heart murmur, pernicious anaemia, osteoporosis and dementia.  Also very deaf.
In the last 12 years, falls have resulted in a crushed vertebra, dislocated shoulder, chipped shoulder bone and a broken wrist. 
(List of hospital admissions)

Prior to the fall at 5.15pm on 2 September 2011 (another care home resident knocked mum’s chair over and she hit her head on a radiator), mum was eating well with encouragement, she could grip and lift a cup of tea in her right hand, she could stand and walk if supported on both sides, she was alert and her speech was clear.  Within an hour of the fall, she had lost the use of her right arm and leg, she was unable to form recognisable words, she was drooling and seemed less aware of her surroundings. 

I have completed an end of life form for the care home, requesting that if mum’s heart stopped, she would not be resuscitated.  I have said that I would like her to have life prolonging treatment to make her comfortable in her last days, eg oxygen, but nothing invasive which could distress her, such as an intravenous drip.  I am concerned that her current stay in hospital is going against the spirit of this plan.  In the 8 hours following her arrival in A & E, she had numerous physical examinations which confused and often caused her discomfort, she had a cannula fitted to administer a sedative prior to a brain scan which clearly hurt and frightened her and she had to be restrained on a number of occasions for these procedures to be carried out.  Mum’s dementia and deafness means she does not understand what is happening and this is upsetting, both for her and for us, her family.  I am worried that if she remains in hospital for any length of time, she will not only be subject to further discomfort but will also fail to recognise the staff and surroundings if and when returned to the care home.  This is mum’s 92nd year.  She is very frail and, being realistic, may not have much longer to live.  I would prefer her to pass away in her own familiar room at the care home in the company of staff who have cared for her well with real affection for the last 2 years, rather than risk her dying in hospital, among strangers.

I was told that the End of Life agreement with the care home carried no weight with the hospital but that the consultant had stipulated no resuscitation, so at least that's in place.  However, if I don't want mum to have to go through all the invasive procedures again, I will have to arrange a  meeting between the family, the care home and mum's GP to draw up an agreement to that effect. Apparently, if mum is admitted to A & E on a future occasion, she will automatically face the same tests and be admitted to a ward - hospital policy. 

My daughter and I visited mum yesterday afternoon.  She seemed please to see us but was clearly exhausted.  She is hooked up to a drip for fluids as she can't swallow very well and still can't speak.  In fact her speech has deteriorated, she was trying to form words on Friday but yesterday a weak semi-mutter was all she could manage and not very often.  Staff on the ward know my feelings about invasive treatment so hopefully they will not attempt to fit a nasal tube if they can't get mum to eat anything.  She managed only a few teaspoons of thickened juice yesterday but we told the nurse she loves chocolate and bananas so they're going to try her with flavoured mousses. The earliest we'll know whether mum can go back to the care home will be Monday, when the consultant does his rounds.  The home is keen to have her back and can offer any nursing care that she needs. 

As we waited in a side room in the early hours, lovely daughter said "do you want to see something to cheer you up?"  and handed me her mobile phone.  This is the picture she showed me:

I'm going to be a granny!

Tuesday, 26 July 2011


Its taken me a while to get to the point where I could write about losing my lovely little dog Kish.  Guilt and grief are powerful silencers.  For quite a while before now, possibly even a year, she was rarely able to last the day without needing the loo. As Mr Lily and I were both out at work, it meant we'd often come home to puddles or poops in the kitchen where we'd moved her bed for ease of cleaning up.  Even though I'd spread puppy training mats all over the floor, sometimes she'd managed to miss them or paddle in her accidents, leaving huge areas to clean.  Unfortunately I was usually the second one home at night, almost always to be greeted by an extremely pissed off husband who'd had to deal with the mess, not a task with which he coped well.  He constantly insisted it was time she was "put down" but I ignored him, reasoning that at her age (16) it wasn't surprising that she couldn't hold it in all day - we couldn't - and in other respects she was fine, eating and drinking normally, enjoying pottering around the house and garden, not in any obvious pain although a little stiff in her back legs and lately had often to be helped out of her bed.  I loved my hairy little daughter and wasn't ready to say goodbye.

Three Fridays ago I drove home from work.  At the corner of our village I stopped to speak to Mr Lily who was waiting for a lift to the pub.  He said Kish had weed and he hadn't had time to clean it up so had just put an absorbant mat over the puddle.  I carried on  home.  I'll never forget the sight that greeted me when I opened the kitchen door.  Kish was on her side on the floor, thrashing about in her own shit, panting, panicking, desperate to stand up but unable to get to her feet.  The mess was smeared all over the floor and her and when she turned her head to look up at me as I entered the room her big brown frightened eyes pleaded "help me!"  I managed to get her up, covering my hands in poo in the process and put her outside while I cleaned up the kitchen floor.  (I never minded cleaning up after Kish - I'm blessed with a poor sense of smell.)  Then I took umpteen anti-bacterial wipes and did the best I could to clean her up.  I couldn't have bathed her - the last time we tried that she had a panic attack and couldn't breathe, I didn't want to distress her further.  This is Kish just after the clean up, you can see how wobbly she had become.....
That Friday was when I realised it was time to let her go.  It would have been cruel to put her at risk of another episode like that - what if she were left floundering from the morning onward? No, unthinkable, watching the video I'd taken on my mobile I could see she was a tired old girl.  I phoned the vet and booked her in for the following day - having made the decision, I didn't want to delay.  I phoned lovely daughter and she came straight over, bless her - much as she loved Kish she supported me in my awful decision and promised to come with me to the vet's the next morning, cancelling other arrangements that she'd made.

I was up at 5.30am the next day, couldn't sleep and wanted to spend as much time with Kish as possible before going to the vet's at lunchtime.  I brushed and brushed her to get rid of all the grey tufty moulting hair so she looked sleek and pretty.  I talked to her and stroked and cuddled her and LD put her coat on her to keep her warm....

For the first time ever, Kish was calm at the vet's.  No longer scrabbling and pulling on the lead to get out of there as fast as possible, she lay quietly in lovely daughter's arms and while standing on the table, buried her nose in my neck for ages while we talked to the vet.  They decided against shaving a patch on her leg as the poor old girl was covered in lumps, so gave the injection without fuss.  Kish just glanced at the vet then turned back to me, we kept eye contact until her head drooped and she gradually slipped away.  It took me a long time and a lot of tears before I was ready to leave her.  I cried and cried all weekend and on and off the following week.  Getting up on a morning and coming home at night to a Kish-free house was awful, so empty, so soul-less.  I started to question whether I'd acted too soon and wished I could turn back time and have her with me just a little longer.

Kish came home this Tuesday.  We had her cremated on her own and have put her casket on the  mantelpiece next to a photo of her as a beautiful young dog, decorated by her name tag and a taffeta bag containing a few tufts of her hair.  I have kept her original adoption papers, collars, halti, harness and frisbee - I couldn't part with all her stuff, seemed so callous.  I took her in the kitchen with me last night while I did the washing up and found myself crying while I talked to her about what had happened and how much I loved her.  Cracking up, obviously.  Here's a few photos of Kish throughout her long life with us, that's my foot she's cuddling in the last one. 

Monday, 11 July 2011

Those of a nervous disposition look away now......

This is a true story.  It happened to me today and yet I still don't know quite how it happened.  Anyway, this morning I had to go to a meeting in another workplace.  You should know that my job requires me to wear a lanyard round my neck with my office swipe card, door key and ID photo hanging off the bottom of it.  Before I went into the meeting, I went to the loo to spend a penny. An hour later, I spent another penny before the long walk back to the car, along many a corridor and past many people, mostly male.  As I got into the car, something caught my eye on the end of the lanyard.  There, stuck firmly to the swipe card was a panty liner.  Not just any panty liner, but the very one that just over an hour previously had been stuck equally firmly (or so I thought) to my pants.  Now what I want to know is:
  1. on which trip to the loo did the transfer take place and how?
  2. did anyone notice but feel too embarrassed to tell me?

Sunday, 10 July 2011

"WOLF!" ?

The care home rang again this Friday to say they'd insisted the doctor came out to mum because she seemed to have a very bad chest infection and they wanted to be sure it wasn't pneumonia.  It wasn't, but it was sad to hear that mum didn't recognise/remember her all time favourite doctor when she visited her. I was expecting to find an even frailer mum when lovely daughter and I went to see her yesterday but amazingly she was in the lounge, quite alert, making comments and responding to us and her cough was only intermittent!  She wouldn't drink much of her build-up milkshake (nor would the other residents) but when weighed was 35 kilos, which is not bad going for mum - she did get down to 32 at one point (77 and 70.4  pounds/5 stones 7 pounds and 5 stones and almost half a pound).

Oh bugger, I've just sprinkled ground coriander on Mr Lily's porridge instead of cinnamon :-(  Its a sign that I should stop blogging lol

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

feeling my age

Had a great 60th party, now back to reality.  Last Friday the care home rang to say that they'd called the doctor out to mum because they didn't think she'd been herself all week.  The doctor told them to let the family know that mum was in the "final stages of dementia".  I was on my way home from work when they rang so of course thought of lots of questions after the phone call, especially after I'd looked it up on the net and seen all the horror stories about the final stages.  Lovely daughter and I went over the same night and had a long talk with the staff. They couldn't give me any timescales but said that the doctor had stopped all mum's medication apart from aspirin because at 91, she'd "had a good innings"- its a blessing I suppose as getting her to take all her tablets has always been a struggle. She sleeps a lot, doesn't have the balance to walk unaided and isn't drinking enough, although she has good days with her eating.  Mum was already in bed when we went at 6.30pm so we returned on Saturday morning.  She doesn't initiate conversations any more and although she responds when you talk (very loudly) to her, half the time its clear she hasn't heard or understood you.  She seems lost in a world of her own most of the time and sometimes says she wishes she were going home, which I think is probably her childhood home.  I filled in an end of life form again, confirming that I didn't want mum to be taken to hospital but treated at the care home if ill, didn't want  her resuscitating if her heart stopped but did want her to receive non-invasive life prolonging treatment to make her comfortable, like oxygen or antibiotics.  I even phoned the travel insurance people to check we were covered if we had to cancel our holiday at the beginning of August (we are).  Am I awful to hope things don't drag on too long?

I'm off work this morning, which is just as well.  Had a chewy day at work yesterday - someone kicked off and threw a chair across the room, I wasn't under threat but it had an impact.  I've felt exhausted and down ever since.  Beginning to think I'm too old for this job.

Sunday, 12 June 2011

I'm almost a sexagenarian!

I shall be 60 on Tuesday, a depressing prospect made slightly better by kidding myself that I shall then be a sexygenarian, oh yes I will!  Beloved son has come up to spend the whole week with us, a huge treat, and him indoors and lovely daughter are busy organising my 'surprise' party for next Saturday - a humungous affair of which I am supposed to be ignorant but actually know just about everything, given HI's total inability to keep secrets.  I'm not so worried about BS now, he's still deeply committed to exposing political conspiracies and cover-ups but seems in good spirits and has just been invited to submit an article to a prestigious website, which hopefully will lead to better things.

A friend and I visited a 'psychic' the other week. I thought the readings were 50% bullshit - character descriptions that could have applied to anyone, 'spirits' with very common names getting in touch and some stuff that was just plain wrong. Also, when my friend and I got together afterwards, we discovered that half of what had been said was the same for both of us!  However, the psychic lady did pull a face when she said there was something in the bottom left hand corner of my garden that needed attending to - she couldn't have known I'd been meaning to flush out the dog toilet for ages! and she asked if I'd got the blind fixed - there's a raggy one still hanging in the kitchen at mum's bungalow. Here's a few more gems from that session:

  • There's going to be a birth in the family and the name Helen is significant (-my middle name. Given the psychic was looking at a middle aged woman who probably had relatives of childbearing age, not a huge surprise, although lovely daughter has come off the pill...)
  • someone called Sarah with an unusual degree will be instrumental in finding beloved son a job, something to do with the media/music and what looked like lots of intertwined Ss (treble clefs, dollar signs?)
  • BS will find his soulmate and live abroad (oh no - he already has an american cyber girlfriend!)
  • BS needed to see a dentist about a problem at the back of his mouth and he'd had knee trouble (no he doesn't and no he didn't)
  • If anyone has to go to Kent, not to go by car (LD and her partner  have to go to a christening in London next week, hope she drives carefully and doesn't get ANOTHER speeding ticket - 98mph recently!)
  • I'm going to get an invitation to stay with someone with property in France and should take it (don't know anyone)
  • Money from property is coming my way (again, at my age you might expect legacies I suppose)
  • Someone called Margaret is going to have health worries but she'll be ok
  • September is significant, I could be influenced by someone to take up training in a new hobby
  • I've had a hard few years (well yes, but I would imagine most people going to a psychic are hoping for reassurance about a happier future)
  • my kitchen is on strong ley lines (wonder if that's why the dog keep losing control of her bowels and bladder in there?)
  • I'll have two holidays this year (actually I am thinking about planning a romantic break for him indoors' 60th in November)
  • My daughter must not cut her hair (well it is long and looks very nice)
  • Richard will pass with flying colours (?)
  • Someone called Andrew will try to get me involved in raising money for charity
  • my uncle Jack told her I didn't put all my Christmas decorations up, spragger! (who does these days?)
There was lots more but because I couldn't take notes during the hour long session, I'd forgotten or confused some of it by the time I came to write it down. I shall keep an open, if sceptical, mind and post again if any of the above come to pass.

Thursday, 9 June 2011


For weeks now I have been corresponding with a pensions company who tracked me down about my old ICI pension - I only worked there from 1969 to about 1972 but was looking forward to a modest windfall. I had to provide my birth and marriage certificates and umpteen examples of my maiden name and current signatures before they would tell me how much was in the pot.
The eagerly awaited letter came yesterday. Apparently, I have two options:
#1 - a cash sum of £25.46 woohoo! (75% of which might be subject to tax) or
#2 - an annual pension of £1.34 throughout my lifetime! Tempting.
To register my choice, I now have to complete a 3 page Retirement Benefits Questionnaire, the purpose of which is 'to confirm that benefits are within the Lifetime Allowance, which stands at £1.80 million.'
Can I be arsed?

Friday, 20 May 2011

and here is the news...

*bong* lovely daughter and her equally lovely partner have now officially moved into mum's bungalow and taken over the bills. LD and I wallpapered the living room, big bedroom and hall (amazingly not falling out in the process) which LD then painted and the final crowning glory was old oak laminate flooring in each of those rooms. Looks great.
*bong* had a funny few days last week, really missed my dad - watched 'Hope Floats' and cried on and off all through, that film really pushes my buttons when it comes to parental relationships lost and dysfunctional. Then the next day I found myself getting tearful for no apparent reason until I realised the radio was playing 'Around the World (I've searched for you)' - a song my mother used to sing a lot and one I've always loved.
*bong* mum has a black eye, the staff at the care home don't know how she did it but its likely she either got out of bed during the night and fell, or fell asleep in the chair (which she does a lot lately) and fell. I happened to mention that when she first went into the care home, it was suggested she get a mattress alarm to alert staff when she wandered during the night but it was never provided. As luck would have it, they'd just received one so mum now has it on her bed.
*bong* I turn 60 in three weeks time :-( I've booked the week off work and am having a surprise party, oops I'm not supposed to know that!
*bong* I'm loving my new job, interesting work, great team, pleasant location and a fantastic drive to work through the countryside every day.

Saturday, 14 May 2011

Him indoors' tank top...

... is about half done, one more band and I'm at the armholes.

Sunday, 17 April 2011


I had a meeting with a representative of the Office of the Public Guardian at mum's care home last week to make sure I was doing a good job of discharging my duties as deputy for her financial affairs and property. It was a positive meeting but I was dismayed to discover that I could have been claiming Attendance Allowance for mum for years, even after she went into the care home. Her GP did suggest it some years ago but at the time mum said she didn't want to bother and in my ignorance I confused it with carer's allowance and thought no more about it, especially when I was no longer involved in her day to day care. Now I find that she is entitled to the higher allowance of £73.60 a week which means that since going into the care home, she could have had £5667.20 towards the fees!!!!! I am so annoyed, why doesn't anyone tell you these things, ie the care staff when mum first became a resident or the Office of the Public Guardian when I was granted the deputyship order? And the most annoying thing of all is I can't get it back dated so that's money lost/gifted to the government. Grrrrr. I have made a start applying for AA online but have to get some info from the care home tomorrow to complete it. Wish me luck!

Friday, 1 April 2011

more worries

Now I'm worried about my son. He's had a rotten couple of years - crazy ex, lost his job, new (now also ex) girlfriend with lots of her own problems - and now he's totally consumed with anxiety about the situation in Libya and Japan. He stays up all night on the internet publishing and responding to videos on Youtube, sleeps till early afternoon, thinks the world is doomed and too awful a place to bring children into. He's always been a sensitive soul at the best of times and I'm scared he's going to crack up completely. I've talked to him about it but he doesn't think he's ill. Maybe I'm just overreacting, perhaps he's just doing what anyone with a strong social conscience and no other distractions would do. Anyone out there had the same experience, themselves or with someone else? Any advice?

Saturday, 26 March 2011

all change

It was my last day at work yesterday, well last day at the old post - I start at my new team on 1 April so I've a week off to wind down and chill out. Its been quite touching saying my goodbyes, lots of hugs from colleagues and kind comments. I didn't finish the last few reports until nearly nine o'clock last night and it was a strange, sad feeling leaving for the last time, with only a few people around to say goodbye to and a last walk in the dark to the car park clutching an enormous bouquet of flowers and a big bag of stuff cleared from desk drawers. I'm only blogging now because I woke up an hour ago remembering that I'd forgotten to set an automatic email reply message to let people know I'd gone and who to contact in my stead, so needed to let a colleague know my password to do it for me. Feeling a bit anxious about the new job - whole new set of procedures and computer systems to get to grips with. Also I have a meeting with a guardian from the Court of Protection at mum's care home in a couple of weeks which is stressing me out a bit - don't know what to expect.

Friday, 28 January 2011


This week its exactly a year since I joined Slimming World, weighing in at my all time heaviest of 11 stones 11 pounds (165 pounds) - not good when you're only 5' 2". At this week's weigh-in I finally hit my 3 stone target (123 pounds)! Fantastic, especially as I really wanted to make it within in the year and in time for the last class being held by our lovely consultant whose place will be taken by someone else from next week. I've gone from (UK) size 16 tops and 14/16 bottoms to size 10 and 8 respectively, still takes some getting used to - there's a fatter me still in my head! Of course a lot of it is vanity but also I do feel better for all the healthy food I've been eating (cooking from fresh every day as opposed to old habits of raiding the freezer for packets of ready-cooked meals) and him indoors has benefitted - he comes with me to SW (the only man in the class!) and is a pound away from losing 4 stones! Now I just have to keep up the good work.

Went to see mum last weekend with lovely daughter. Mum looked tinier than ever, she's walking again, doesn't need the wheelchair to get around any more, but she seemed tired and distant - didn't speak or respond much but she was pleased to see us. Hopefully she will have perked up a bit when we go again. I really must get round to putting all the paperwork generated since becoming Deputy in order - the Court of Protection will be wanting a report in a few months and I've got to demonstrate that I've been looking after mum's affairs properly. Is there ever a point in adult life when you don't get to be responsible for something and can just relax, dementia excluded?!

Monday, 17 January 2011


Been a bit low, on and off, lately. I think its probably still linked to not feeling comfortable making decisions as mum's deputy - have spent a chunk of her money recently on getting the bungalow's electrics updated, a new bathroom fitted and a new gas fire installed. Had a mini meltdown when lovely daughter said the reproduction victorian fire she'd chosen looked too big in situ, its a gorgeous slate hearthed, cast iron coal effect fire with a chunky oak-like surround with a price to match. I think it will look ok once the rest of the room is decorated, sigh. Logically I know the alterations will add value to mum's property so if I do have to sell it, hopefully it will do well. Still finding it stressful though, doing this stuff 'behind her back'. Next expenses will be flooring (going to price laminate but may have to settle for carpeting if the price is extortionate) and decorating. Aaargh.

Yesterday I thought I was starting early with dementia - I couldn't remember what I'd done with the spare wheel on my car that I needed to replace a flat tyre. Today I discovered that my new car wasn't fitted with a spare, just a tyre inflator which does diddly squat when you've a puncture. Which bright spark came up with that one? (Apparently it saves car manufacturers money and decreases carbon emissions - small comfort if you have a blowout in the middle of nowhere but good news for the recovery services!)

Also I've had a chest infection for weeks so haven't been to see mum for a while. Haven't managed to get to the doctor's yet but have an appointment tonight. Back to work tomorrow after a week off to get the work at the bungalow done so I'll be playing catch up AND I've 5 big reports to complete before the first week in February as well as the daily stuff - more stress, and I'm waiting to find out where I'll be sent next - am moving to a new team around the end of March. Never thought I'd say this but roll on retirement!

Oh, and just to put the tin hat on it, having forked out £60 for a new tyre and consoled myself with lunch and a mooch round the charity shops with a friend, I got back to the car to find a £50 parking ticket (£25 if I pay up within 14 days). Grr. AND I've just discovered my friend left her shopping in the boot of my car.