The Daft O'Clock Chronicles, continued

Well here I am again, pounding the keys at nearly 2am, more because I don't want to go to bed than because I want to blog. I'm living a double life at the moment super-efficient, upbeat, unfaseable (is that how you spell it?) at work; distracted, obsessive, procrastinatory (!) at home. And when I'm not busy with some totally absorbing activity like knitting or xmas shopping (think I finished it today!) or playing Farmville (I know, sad), I'm sleeping for England (but not going to bed until I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open any more). Anything to keep the sticky footed 'you put your mother in a home' devil on my shoulder from catching my attention.

Went to see mum on Wednesday - she wasn't in too bad a mood but still time travelling, mostly rooted in the past with long-gone relatives but occasionally visiting the present for brief moments. She introduced me to the other residents in the lounge as her sister yet she knows my name. I suppose its pointless trying to understand what's going on in her head, its probably as much of mystery to mum as it is to me. However, 'The 36 Hour Day' book has arrived so I'm hoping it will shed some light on the subject and give me some useful coping skills.

Tomorrow, sorry - today, the plan is to tidy up the house and get the christmas tree and decorations down from the loft. That's the plan ....

tonight's visit to mum - the 'highlights'

Why can't you take me back with you?
I'll just walk home in the dark then.

I'll have to turn to strangers for help.

You're my sister - you should be looking after me!
There's something funny going on.
You're nothing to me.
Shit out.

(and I've just remembered this one...)

What's going to happen to me when I leave here? I don't want to go back into the RAF.

Catch-up

Strange how difficult I find it to update the blog. Things have definitely improved but I still feel unsettled - my knitting addiction is coming a close second to the new drug of choice - Farmville on Facebook - its as though I need to be busy doing something every second of the day or who knows what demons will sneak into my mind. Here's how mum's being in residential care is going:

PROS

• Mum is well thought of by the staff and she seems to get on with them
• She is eating slightly better and has put on a little bit of weight
• She is rarely very distressed about being in the home but I think its because she often thinks she's just visiting instead of living there
• I no longer get palpitations when the phone rings because I know it won't be mum with a new disaster
• I have more free time because I generally visit only twice a week for no more than an hour at a time
• Lovely daughter and beloved son do their bit and visit mum as much as possible

CONS

• Its hard knowing how to deal with the 'can you drop me off home' requests at the end of the visit - oddly enough its harder than when mum has a right go at me for 'plotting' to put her into the home (hasn't happened as much lately). Apparently Princess Anne offered her a ride home but she didn't take her up on it.
• Mum has developed some strange habits - the other day she 'clouted' a woman at the dinner table who she said had hit her first - she told us the story over and over with much glee!
• She pinched someone's wedding ring when she thought she had lost her own!
• She has also taken to spitting on the floor - something she would have regarded as absolutely disgusting once upon a time.
• The finances still aren't sorted out. The home hasn't billed me yet but I'm still waiting for the solicitor to send me the paperwork for the courts.

Ok, that's me done for now. I'll try to post more often.

XC

Mum is 90 today. Beloved son is coming up from Nottingham and we're going to meet lovely daughter at the home at tea-time. I hope she has a good day today - when LD and I visited on Monday, the care staff said they'd put on a party for her and I've arranged for a huge bouquet to be delivered. Mum is starting to settle better - she's eating properly!!! and joining the other residents in the lounge, she hasn't spit out her medication or kicked anyone recently lol and takes herself off to her room after meals for a nap. She has stopped blaming me for putting her in the home and seems to think it was her decision, although she still says that she'll go home when 'they' say she can. On Monday night she even asked the carer for help getting ready for bed which suggests she's feeling more comfortable with her new surroundings. She does look frail though and her memory is getting worse and worse. I've decided not to tell her missing relatives have died any more, its too upsetting for her, I'll just feign ignorance and suggest they'll be visiting soon.

Despite the break from daily visiting (twice a week now), getting my weekends back and the comfort of knowing she's never on her own, the whole situation is still stressing me out subconsciously - this week I've woken Mr Lily a few times, shouting out or crying in my sleep - unusual for me, I can't always remember why. I am tired all the time still and will be glad when the power of attorney thing is sorted. Roll on the cruise!

deep breaths

Mum was in a grumpy mood today. She was not pleased to see me and refused to talk to the solicitor about power of attorney. We're going to wait a couple of weeks to see whether she mellows, if not its going to cost an arm and a leg to take it to court.

Maybe Logan's Run had the right idea

Mum was just as angry tonight but distressed too. Why was I doing this to her, I was just a parrot for repeating that the doctor had said she needed to be in a care home, she wished she'd had a bigger family then she might have had a good one, her mother/my father would be horrified if they knew what I'd done, why couldn't I take her home and leave her there, she would write to her aunt who would understand - "Auntie N died a long time ago" - I say that about everyone.

The care staff told me she was refusing medication and hardly eating, her eyelids were red as though she'd not slept/been crying. She said she'd had an exhausting day but wouldn't tell me what she'd been doing (and I forgot to ask the staff). I made her a cup of tea and she joined me in the dining room/kitchen to drink it and continue berating me. Another resident came in and sat quietly with us so I made her a cup of tea too, hoping that her company would have a beneficial effect on mum. It didn't. Mum said she didn't want to see me again. She accosted the ward manager in her office to complain about her situation and didn't believe her either when she told mum that it was the doctor, not I, that had insisted on her going into care because she couldn't look after herself at home.

I gave the manager the family tree I'd put together for reminiscence sessions and an appointment for mum at the memory clinic and left, feeling very low. I hope mum's GP was right about the 6 weeks acceptance point. In the meantime I'm not optimistic about Monday's visit with the solicitor.

New beginnings

The move was confirmed for Monday so I spent the last day of my sick leave dashing to and fro - first to a friend's to use her tumble drier for mum's last load of washing then to the hospital to drop off mum's discharge clothes - she would be leaving some time after 2pm. Next to the nursing home with all mum's bits and pieces to make her room seem familiar and homely. Her clothes, shoes, photographs,letters and towels went into the wardrobe; one of her paintings and one of dad's went up on the wall; her cut glass dressing table set and photos of the grandchildren on the chest of drawers next to the bed; tissues, underwear, tights, hats, scarves and gloves in the drawers; a silk flower arrangement, her crinoline lady toilet roll cover, makeup, perfume, flannel, towel, shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste went into the en-suite; small ornaments on the window sill and zimmer frame by the bed. I also swapped the home's bed linen for her own quilt cover and matching pillow case. I realised more space was needed for the other family photos she used to have on display at home and for her calendar clock and favourite books so I dashed up to the bungalow (about 2 miles away) and brought back the bedside table that dad made. Then it was back to my friend's for a late lunch and moral support and to collect the dry washing before some last minute errands in town.

By this time, around 4pm, I was feeling very nervous about the prospect of facing mum at the home and decided to wait until lovely daughter finished work so we could go together. We took a 'good luck in your new home' card and a box of chocolate liqueurs. Mum was in her room, sitting in a high-backed chair like Queen Victoria on her throne. She was not amused. She berated me and LD for the terrible thing we'd done to her - putting her into "a mental home", she was fearless in her fury - asking the care staff at her door what they were whispering about and why people were "grinning" at each other. We spent a very long time trying to explain the benefits of being in the home but she did not want to be persuaded. I could just forget about her now, I needn't visit again, she wouldn't stay there, she would leave her money to someone who cared. The nurse who had assessed mum in the hospital said she couldn't believe the transformation from canny little old lady to battleaxe but she was very good humoured and well used to letting insults fly over her head. She gave me a 'living will' form to complete on mum's behalf (aargh!)and promised to arrange a hairdresser's appointment for mum and for the optician and audiologist to visit her (hopefully to provide a better quality hearing aid).

Back to work on Tuesday after 5 weeks off. I telephoned the home on the morning to check how mum had been, expecting to hear she had been restless and was sulking in her room. The nurse told me mum had slept right through the night, had joined other residents in the dining room for breakfast and was last seen in the lounge! My feet left the ground as the mum-shaped millstone hurtled heavenwards from my shoulders. Maybe it was going to be alright after all! On the afternoon I bent the chaplain's ear over the uncomfortable issue of the living will, especially the bit about 'if my heart stops, I do/not wish to be resuscitated'. We had a long talk which eased my mind a little.

On Wednesday lunchtime I went to see our solicitor to discuss lasting power of attourney for mum's medical care and property. Still very confused about what it all means but the solicitor was very reassuring. We are going to meet at the home on Monday morning to talk to mum about it. Apparently, he has to ask her about her end of life wishes, so that will make it easier for me to complete the home's form. I just hope mum is in a good mood when we go, if her consent can not be obtained, I'm facing a long and even more expensive court process.

I'm going to visit mum on my own tonight. Which may explain why I'm up blogging at daft o'clock again.

Aaaaargh!

Mum's social worker has just phoned - can't go ahead with my first choice of nursing home because the Primary Care Trust has withdrawn funding due to concerns about the standard of care at that home! Seems they may have been economical with the truth when they told me there was a block on admissions due to problems with an ex-resident, which would all be sorted by this week :-(

I've asked the SW'er to approach my second choice and am keeping my fingers crossed there are no more skeletons in the cupboard.

the deed is done

I visited two dual registration nursing homes today, both in an area quite close to where mum grew up (and where she now thinks her home is), so hopefully she will feel more settled there, especially as she will be able to keep her current doctor. Both homes had a 'good' rating from the Care Quality Commission and were the nearest of their type to where I live. The first was a converted couple of large Victorian houses and I felt it was a little warren-like and claustrophobic. Also the lounge area had seating all around the perimeter, not so conducive to socialising.

The second was much newer and airier.
I was impressed by the facilities and the warmth and experience of the member of staff who showed me (and an 'expert' home-carer friend) round, so I chose this one. I phoned the social worker so she could arrange for the nursing home to assess mum, it should be ok, I'd already given them much of the information they needed and no problems were identified. Apparently, mum could move in the day after a positive assessment so perhaps this time next week or not long after.....

After initial nervousness and then adrenalin fuelled fact finding, I now feel rather flat and apprehensive. I'm dreading the whole moving mum in thing, even worse, the leaving mum in the home for the first time moment. This is just awful. Despite the consensus of the hospital doctor, social worker, community psychiatric nurse and Primary Care Trust, arranging for mum to go into a nursing home feels as though its all my doing, particularly as I've been thinking she would be better off in residential care for a long time. Who am I kidding - I'd be better off (emotionally/physically) if mum were in residential care. I didn't visit mum today. Couldn't face it.

Thursday

Mum was very down tonight, her low mood seemed to have set in long before she asked me where she could go after leaving hospital (she didn't seem to remember that she had a home of her own, the bungalow). I was truthful with her - I didn't feel there was any other option, and tried to put a 'retirement' home in the best light possible in the hope that she would eventually become reconciled to the idea. It wasn't the answer she'd hoped for (ie for her to live with me) and in her eyes was proof that nobody cared or wanted her. She kept referring to relatives who had died as people who would take her in. Having to remind her they'd passed and repeat the hospital-to-care home scenario over and over again (her short-term memory is really poor now) only added to her depression. She said several times that it would have been better if she'd died. I do feel desperately sorry for her. I just hope I'm doing the right thing and it will work out alright. I'm going to start looking at nursing homes tomorrow. I hope I find a good one quickly.

on the slow train

I have another fortnight's sick note thank goodness, I'm exhausted. Mum has exhibited some bizarre behaviour lately, in addition to her journey back into the past. The staff nurse told me she tried to sit on a patient's visitor's legs the other day and refused to move, even when the patient's family were telling her to go back to her own bed! I don't know whether it was that incident getting mixed up in her mind, but when I visited her later, she was adamant there'd been an altercation with the same people over their wanting me to entertain their guests and provide them with cakes?!

On Tuesday I met with the social worker to help compile her report and yesterday we both met with a member of the Primary Care Team for another long assessment meeting, this time to determine whether mum's needs qualified her for a financial contribution from the PCT towards the cost of her residential care. Mum scored high in some areas, eg nutrition (she's now just under 5 stones) and came out as a borderline case. I have been instructed to look for a nursing home with dual registration, ie elderly and dementia care. There aren't that many in our area to choose from. I also phoned a solicitor yesterday to discuss the problem of gaining access to mum's bank account to pay for residential care as I don't have power of attourney. He advised me that once mum is in a home he would be happy to visit her and if she seems to understand and agree that this arrangement needs to be made, he can go ahead. If not, we'll have to pursue another route via the bank or the courts. Urggh.

Today the doctor will make a formal assessment of mum's capacity to make decisions about her future care, I think its unlikely she will agree to residential care so he will say that she does not have the capacity but residential care would be in her best interests. If she refuses, another assessment will have to be done under the new Deprivation of Liberty legislation. This afternoon's visit to mum will be interesting, will I be greeted by Dr Jekyll or Mrs Hyde?

The calm before the storm

After a couple of weeks of placid mum, I had two days of grouchy mum, complaining bitterly about the lack of care on the ward (at teatime 'they haven't given us any food all day!') and wanting to go 'home'. Non-PC mum also played a blinder - a black male nurse was keeping watch on A and V - two very poorly patients with a tendency to try to get out of bed; he was mostly seated near them but occasionally got up to manoeuvre them gently back into a comfortable position or allay their anxieties. If mum referred to 'that darky over there' once, she said it half a dozen times in her deaf person's loud voice, despite my telling her she was being rude. She insisted on commentating on her interpretation of the situation - he was lazy just sitting there all the time doing nothing, he was wearing a white coat so he would look official and then(with amazement, after I'd told her umpteen times he was a nurse) he must work here! He must have heard her but showed no sign of it, we exchanged pleasantries and he voluntarily helped me get mum from the chair onto the bed and sorted out her dirty laundry for me. He deserves a medal, I'll bet my mum isn't the only racist geriatric he has to deal with.

Yesterday she was back to cheery mum and especially enjoyed her wheelchair trip to the hospital cafe with me and lovely daughter for a cup of tea (wish I'd thought of it sooner, gave us something new to do and certainly made the time pass quickly).

A member of the ward staff phoned this afternoon. Mum was very anxious and agitated, could I talk to her on the phone and come to see her asap? As anticipated, mum couldn't really hear me but she was cross and confused. She said she'd been asking them to ring me to tell me where she was, as though I didn't know, and wanted me to go there straight away and take her home. The assistant said she'd check with the staff nurse whether it would be best for me to visit or stay away. The SN came back on the phone and said that as mum had now settled on her bed, it might disrupt her again if I went, so I didn't! Freedom!!

I'm going to see my GP tomorrow to renew my sick note (still have only half a brain, if that) and then I have to go to the hospital to meet mum's social worker and go through her assessment report. Then on Wednesday there's a meeting on the ward to determine what kind of residential care mum needs. Flak jacket at the ready.......

ward sisters

I have found a new family since mum has been hospitalised. I and the other daughters visiting their mums on Ward 12 are becoming our own support group. We share our concerns and laughter, update each other on what's been happening in our absence and look out for the patients who have no visitors. There's A in the far corner, so pale and frail and determined to escape her bed - one of the visitors regularly goes over to hold her hand and talk to her to settle her down. When necessary, we call the nurse. Then there's M, to mum's right, she has a beautiful smile and is mostly content to doze or read but occasionally becomes frightened for no obvious reason and clutches the side bars on her bed. We keep an eye out for her too.

Poor D in the bed opposite mum died quietly only an hour after her elderly brother had been to see her, I was there on the afternoon visit and felt annoyed on her behalf - her brother seemed to be ignoring her, spending all his time talking to the daughter of the patient in the next bed while D stared bleakly ahead or rested her head on her arms on the table in front of her. I was told later that the curtains were drawn round all the beds while the doctors attended her and she was taken from the ward; apparently mum was very distressed by this and insisted on sitting with the visitors at the bed on her left, demanding that her daughter (me) be contacted to call the police because "something's not right here!" The lady on mum's left seems to be the liveliest on the ward, a low blood pressure problem I think. The last patient, in the far right corner, rarely lifts her head from her pillow but has two daughters who take turns to spend every visiting time with her.

I think mum is giving up. The nurse told me today that she's hardly eating anything, I suspected as much as the last few visits she has preferred to spend most of her time lying down, not talking a great deal and certainly no sign of the old spitfire, in fact she seems pleased to see me! When she does talk, she sometimes appears confused, tonight I was astonished and dismayed to hear her wonder aloud why her brother hadn't been to see her. I had to tell her he'd passed away (we both went to his funeral), she didn't remember.

These are such strange times. I visit mum and hold her hand and stroke her hair and make her comfortable and its as though I finally have the mother/daughter relationship I always wanted, warm and tender. Now when there's so little time left and more than likely just before the storm aka 'going into residential care', I struggle to understand how I feel, especially when I return home and Mr Lily, thinking he is being supportive, continues to berate mum for all the stress of the past years. I know I've done my fair share of mum 'bashing' but it still makes uncomfortable listening.

I'm back at the doctor's tomorrow, for my official sick note. I'm going to ask him about a counsellor. I think its time.

itchy and scratchy

I was exhausted at work on Monday and went home on the afternoon to get some sleep before visiting mum. She was in a good mood - still looking forward to going home but fairly settled. The welcome change still didn't save me from the nettle devils later that night so again I was up until daft o'clock.

Tuesday saw yet another dying swan impression and I agreed with my line manager that I would take some time off on sick leave following Wednesday's appointment with my GP. It felt good to be rid of the pressure to keep on top of the mountain of work that was steadily engulfing me. I visited mum on the evening. She was morose, back to pleading with me to take her home - I could just shut her in a room, she'd be no trouble, she'd die in that place if she stayed there, and so on. Yet she seemed to have lost her spark, her voice was weak and she looked as though she had lost even more weight. I'm afraid that if she doesn't rally soon, she may not even make it to residential care.

I went to bed early, slathered in moisturiser, to stave off the nettle devils but they woke me up in the early hours. At least I'll be able to get more anti-histamines in six hours time.

groundhog day

Having been perfectly pleasant to staff all day, mum gave me hell all through the hour long visit. So much so that the embarrassed old lady in the next bed felt she was intruding and zimmered off to the other side of the ward where I could hear the patients discussing us, saying 'I feel sorry for the daughter!'. Had a chat afterwards with mum's named nurse who was very sympathetic. Should know more tomorrow, after the doctor has done his rounds.

crash landing

So much has happened in the last 36 hours, I struggle to remember everything. I finally got in touch with the social worker on Thursday afternoon and arranged for us to meet at mum's on Friday morning to try to persuade her to go into residential care.

Thursday night. I went round to mum's after work, she had phoned me a few times to check I was coming. It didn't take her long to have a go at me and tell me to leave. I'd only been home a short while before the phone rang - the neighbourhood watch woman had been asked by mum's 86 year old neighbour to intervene because mum's constant phoning and visiting her to vent all her anxieties was getting her down. NWW was very forceful, I felt on the defensive as she went through all the concerns the neighbours had about mum and that she shouldn't be left alone. I explained about mum's care package and that I didn't feel it would be helpful if I went over given mum's feelings about me at that point. NWW said she'd ring Care Link and ask them to send someone to sit with mum.

NWW rang back, CL didn't provide that kind of service (I knew that). I went to mum's with an overnight bag. NWW was still there. Bloody do-gooders. lol. Before leaving she said CL had phoned the on-call doctor. A doctor came out and was very forthright with mum, told her if she stayed at home and went on as she was, she would starve herself to death. He urged her to consider the benefits of a nursing home. Mum was not impressed, more fuel for the 'plot to shove (her) in a home' fire. He diagnosed a mild water infection and gave me a prescription for antibiotics. Mum kept asking me "why are you doing this to me?" Finally got to bed around midnight. Heard mum get up in the early hours for the toilet but otherwise uneventful. I was up about 6.30, mum a little later.

(I forgot, somewhere along the way, a doctor from mum's GP's surgery phoned and decided he didn't need to come out there and then but would ask mum's doctor to visit her on Friday morning.)

The day started off quite amicably, I even washed mum's hair. Then the social worker and her colleague arrived. I took the opportunity to dash to the chemist for the antibiotics and when I returned mum was in full furious flow. They'd already broached the care home issue. No matter how hard I tried to explain why people were concerned about her and why a home would be good for her, she took it as proof of my betrayal and utter failure as a daughter. I was close to tears. As the social worker wanted to wait for the GP, I left them with mum for half an hour while I took a break and did some shopping.

I missed the doctor. She had left a prescription for the anxiolytic Lorazepam (telling mum they were vitamins), the hope being that in a few days time, a calmer mum might look more favourably on residential care. I phoned her, as requested, and she told me that if it didn't pan out that way, mum would have to be sectioned, for her own safety. Depressing thought.

The afternoon passed fairly peacefully, thanks to the Lorazepam. I explained to mum about not bothering her neighbour. The carer came and made her some tea, most of which ended up in the bin. I gave mum her evening medication including the second Lorazepam and, as she seemed quite settled and the carer would be returning in a few hours, took my leave just before 6pm, promising to return on Saturday. I did feel a little uneasy, in case the medication made her drowsy and unsteady and she fell going to the toilet or something but I was so weary and just wanted to go home.

I had just relayed the above events to Mr Lily when I remembered I'd left my mobile phone in the car. Worried someone might break in and steal it, I went to retrieve it. There was a phone message timed 6.44 pm. From Care Link. Mum had gone outside, fallen and hit her head. An ambulance was on its way. (She had fallen over the step between her and her neighbour's drive.)

Mum now has a new shiner under her left eye to match the old one under the right. Also a bump on the left temple underneath a large section of red highlights in her white hair and numerous grazes in other places. She was obnoxious to me when I arrived in A&E but eventually mellowed. The doctor did not think she had broken any bones. He agreed that she was not safe to live alone and should be in care. She has been admitted to hospital and will be in for at least a few days, during which time I'm hoping we can finally arrange for her to get the support she needs.

hurtling

Lovely daughter went round to mum's last night. No broken bones from the morning's fall judging by the speed with which she zimmered into the kitchen to get her tablets! Mum pressed the Care Link button twice while LD was there and they contacted the on call doctor. When the doctor rang back, LD said she thought there was nothing seriously amiss with mum's mobility and that she was getting pain relief for her hip but would call for help if things deteriorated.

They did. In a different way.

I was in the shower ten minutes ago when my mobile rang. It was the home carer to say that mum refused to take her medication, was very confused, said she hadn't seen her daughter for weeks, didn't seem to realise she was in her own home and wanted to call her solicitor. Otherwise she was ok, lol. I've just left a message for the social worker to phone me at work later this morning. I think its time to get mum into a home. Wish me luck.

plummeting

More discussions with the social worker, we've altered the care package to 15 minutes breakfast, lunch and tea and 30 minutes at bedtime. I think the extra visit and the longer time to chat may settle her at night. Maybe. We're going to give it a week to see how it goes.

Mum phoned me at work at 5.20pm. She said she couldn't manage and couldn't walk. Before going over I phoned the social worker but no answer, then I phoned mum's GP who was very understanding but said I ought to get Social Services to move faster, clearly mum should be in a home. She told me she would hate it for 6 weeks but then settle down. Easy for her to say, but yes, I know she's right.

The Care Link warden was already at mum's. Apparently she's started phoning them again and she had to go out to her at 10.20pm last night. She also keeps unplugging the CL connection. Mum was pretty mean to me in front of the warden, especially when I relayed her doctor's advice, and was adamant I hadn't called round this morning but that was nothing to the diatribe after the warden left. Eventually I couldn't take it any more and also left. Mum was straight on the phone to CL who phoned me just as I arrived home. We've agreed they don't have to go out unless they think its an emergency, they know I appreciate their just talking to mum when she phones.

Mum has phoned me two or three times now, I've lost track of how many. She doesn't seem to remember I've been round tonight, she wants to see me to discuss something important. She's disappointed when I say I'll go tomorrow. Lovely daughter is going to call round tonight to check she takes her evening medication.

I have a pain under my left shoulder blade. I might take tomorrow off work.

falling

It has started again, the accusatory phone calls, the character assassination. Mum didn't remember we'd discussed my going home last night, she thought I'd just "sneaked out". I sobbed this morning, after putting down the phone. She's phoned four times now in the space of half an hour. She wants me to go round. I tell her the carer will be coming soon, she doesn't believe me. She says she's weak as a kitten, she needs help, she will have to go to her neighbour. Fifth phone call. I've agreed to go over. I hate my life.

LATER...
Well, maybe hate was a bit strong. When I got to mum's she was resting on the settee. Her anger seemed to have subsided but she was unhappy. She said she had already had a fall in the kitchen and her hip was hurting her again, she didn't want to be alone. I gave her some painkillers and wrote a note to explain how often she could take them. The carer had been to make her toast and tea for breakfast and prompt her meds.

I phoned mum's social worker this morning and explained my concerns about mum's care package not being enough. I thought she would arrange an assessment of needs but she is going to try increasing the length of home care calls from 15 to 30 minutes and from 3 to 4 times a day. I've asked her to send an Attendance Allowance application - by my reckoning, the full price will be about £170 per week! I doubt the extra care time will be enough for mum but you never know. If she has time to get to know her carers and enjoy several chats a day with them, she might feel less lonely.

the 'rest' of Saturday

It was wonderful to be back home on Saturday afternoon, to be able to offload to Mr Lily, sort out some laundry for the fully functional washing machine, have a shower and wash my hair. I put on my pyjamas and headed for the settee, tv and knitting, hoping for a relaxing few hours before an early night.

Care Link phoned quite a few times to keep me updated - mum was constantly pressing her call button and saying she needed help, when they went out to her, she said she didn't. The home carer went at tea-time and lovely daughter around 8pm, to check mum had taken her night-time medication. On her return, she reported that mum had hardly eaten anything, had been sick again and wouldn't go to bed. She had told LD "I hate it here".

I was on my way to bed just after ten when the phone went. Care Link was concerned. Mum seemed confused, had called them 20 times today and they would have to phone me if during the night if they needed to go out to her because they didn't have a key. There was a CL worker with her at that moment so I threw a jumper over my pyjamas and LD drove me over. A lovely man was there and said he was worried that if he'd left her, she would have wandered out as she was talking about knocking up her neighbour. I gave him LD's front door key and thanked him for looking after mum.

Mum was back on the "something funny going on" loop, she didn't seem to understand why people had been coming all day and didn't "trust that man" (the CL worker). I tried to explain about the discharge care plan and when to use the CL call button but I don't think it sank in. She was in pain again so I gave her some painkillers and she had a few sips of tea. She was clearly exhausted, her eyes kept closing, but she refused to get ready for bed. She was still in her discharge clothes. "You can go" she said, but not as vehemently as previously. I finally managed to persuade her to go to bed but couldn't get her to change into her nightclothes, she couldn't be bothered. I sat with her for a while until I was satisfied that she was rested and likely to sleep, then LD and I came home.

Unwind time needed, so the early night morphed into the usual after midnight bedtime. No calls during the night - Yay! Up fairly refreshed around 7.30 when elderly dog scratched at the bedroom door to be let out. I've put another wash load in and am now going to have my breakfast. Fingers crossed today will be less chewy.