This week we had a bonus visit as Sister 1 and 2 went on holiday.

So Mr R came down at the weekend and was the muscle on Mums outing, and while we did avoid the kicker argument (thanks to dad hiding all but one pair at a time), we didn’t avoid the toilet argument:

‘Mum, can you go for a wee before we go out?’

‘I don’t need a wee.’

‘Last time we went out we had to rush back because you needed a wee, so please could you go before we leave the house?’ (Mum wont use public toilets)

<much harrumphing and sighing>

‘I’ve been.’

‘You haven’t, you didn’t go to the bathroom’

‘I went in THERE’ <pointing at the lounge>

‘That’s the lounge.  There isn’t a toilet in there.’

‘I meant in THERE!’ <Pointing at her bedroom>

‘That’s your bedroom.  There isn’t a toilet in there.  The bathroom is here…could you go there and do a wee please?’

<Enormous amounts of harrumphing and sighing>

Luckily, the excitement of going down hill in a wheelchair distracted her from her crossness and teacakes were eaten by all.

Meanwhile, I got another new job.  I’m not sure how I feel about this.  It was as a result of having a conversation with Dad’s doctor where I got very frustrated as the respiratory nurse who used to visit him on a regular basis has stopped visiting as he has ‘had the maximum number of sessions’ and the hospice have taken him off their books as he ‘has not needed to access the services’.  I explained to the GP that this leaves me and my sisters, with no medical qualifications between us – other than a first aid certificate, which doesn’t quite cut it with advanced COPD – to decide at what point dad’s breathing is so bad additional help is needed.  Dad hates a fuss though, so that makes it even more difficult to call anyone as he will argue against it.

So the doctor gave me and my sisters our new job:

We now have to monitor Dad’s blood pressure, heart rate and O2 and if they go down, we shout.  I’m not sure how much they should go down by or at the moment quite who we shout to, as a series of phone calls to various ‘support’ has ultimately left me with ‘call 111 if you’re concerned, or 999 in an emergency’ which doesn’t feel quite right on a lot of levels.  I’m also now doubly confused as one of Dad’s blood pressure numbers seems to have gone down and the other up, so what on earth does that mean?  Quiet shouting,  loud calmness or a total inability to use the blood pressure machine?

Luckily Sister 1 and 2 are back from holiday today and they can do some measuring to confirm…something.  Sometimes I feel like I need an adult to help us.  Then I remember… 😬