Finding smiles in the chaos – navigating caring for parents, dementia, COPD, teenage step kids, one mischievous cocker spaniel, and way too much wool. Because we're all just winging it really.
This week – Friday being the new Tuesday, the following happened:
It took me two hours (rather that one) to get to the M25 junction nearest Mum and Dads
That left me with almost minus time to get Tesco done and pick up their tablets from their doctors surgery (both in different directions). I like a challenge though so:
I managed Tesco (getting out of the car > shopping a pretty giant list sent by Dad> paying > getting back to the car> returning the trolley > getting back to the car again) in 13 minutes flat. Some people laugh, some people rushed to get out my way. I felt like I was on Supermarket Sweep 😁
I got to the surgery, met the loveliest receptionist ever, and juggled boxes and bags back to the car
Got to Mum and Dads…earlier than anticipated (obviously).
Asked Mum how the shopping for her long sleeved tops that she wanted had gone with Sister 2. Mum said she’d bough trousers instead. Dad told me she’d bought trainers and no trousers.
I suggested Mum put on her new trainers read for our expedition to the hospital. Mum tried putting on the trainers I’d bought up to give to Sister 1.
She was unsure about wearing her new trainers to teh hospital incase they got dirty. I assured here there wasn’t likely to be too much mud in the corridors.
Drove to the hospital and had a ‘discussion’ as to why Mum keeps deciding not to see the people who have made plans to see her. She stopped talking to me
Mum found the Haribo and forgot she wasn’t talking to me in her excitement to open them.
Mum insisted she could walk to wherever we were going in the hospital. It was touch and go.
Saw the doctor. Minimal bamboozling took place and no more diagnosis.
Mum decided he was much nicer than the last Doctor we saw. He was the last doctor we saw.
And most interestingly, the doctor had asked us to keep notes on Mums progress over the last four weeks. When I arrived I added dads to mine and noticed Mums been telling him that she talks to people at night in her bedroom. I asked her about it when we were struck in traffic driving her home. It’s in Tuesday TV. I don’t know what to make of it… 🤷♀️. Mum seems to appreciate ‘them’ though so I guess that’s all that matters
(Sorry about the camera angle; it was the only place I could prop it for that bit)
This week, Friday is the new Tuesday because we swapped days as tomorrow Mum has a hospital appointment with the very bamboozling doctor with all the long words and lots of diagnosis’s. I’m hoping we don’t come away with any more this time (epilepsy and a heart condition are more than enough to add to her ever growing medical notes), and that maybe if I really concentrate I’ll understand more of what he tells me… I’ll let you know, but please cross your fingers and send me brain cells at 5pm on Friday. 🫰🏼
So, instead, on Tuesday I got ahead with work, did my usual evening training class and…then took an online dog behaviour / training class.
Because the vet suggested at our last visit that as well as being a little tubby, Percy may have a few ‘issues’ and might do well to see a behaviouralist. And like many, many parents being given feedback that the apple of their eye is not in fact perfect, I got a bit grumpy inside. Then decided I absolutely should do what I needed to help him. So looked up the vet recommended people and wondered if a second mortgage was an option. Then looked at other local referrals and discovered that – like therapists – dog trainers and behaviouralists are not a regulated role and anyone can set themselves up as one. And every one I found, there seemed to be some issue with.
And I guess because big brother knows everything and could see that I was looking up these things, facebook threw up an invite to a free online seminar with a dog person I’ve been following in instagram who does seem to talk a bit of sense. I signed up and he talked more sense – some of which I knew and some of which I didn’t.
So now I am attempting more stimulation, less arousal and more outlets. I think. And to do that we’ve been doing lessons. We have a fair way to go with the kisses:
And I need to find some pots Percy can pick up to do this one properly:
And so far the only difference has been the fact that for the first time Percy decided to start humping a lady dog while we were out yesterday, resulting in my running at (my) full speed across a field shouting, “GET OFF HER NOW’. But it’s only been two days and hopefully he’ll become more chilled out rather than some sort of canine Romeo…
…And it’s made a change from trying to re-teach Mum to knit or make a cup of coffee 🙂
And in Norman news, he is now also referred to as ‘The Furry Locust’ on account of his sudden need to eat ALL the food. Not only is he demanding two breakfasts these days, but he’s started breaking into Percy’s defrosting dinner as a midnight snack if we forget to hide it. And now he’s taken to watching me eat, ready to pounce the second my guard is down …
Animals and Mummy W’s…life would be very boring without them 🙂
Tomorrow Dad, your Mum and Stepson 2 will be driving you to university to properly start grown up life. I’m a little concerned about this, as there still seem to be issues with knowing how to slice an onion despite a lot of cooking lessons here….
We could use that as an analogy for life, but let’s work with the literal instead: Onions are not that important in the grand scheme of things.
Some things are though, which takes us to the conversation we had at the weekend when I realised, (after a couple of glasses of wine, I admit), that I have some seriously useful information to impart. Namely: how to not repel lovely ladies.
I suggested I wrote these tips down for you. You said you thought that would be very useful.
So, based on nothing more than my own personal experience (which while not vast, does seem to have included a significant number of disastrous dates) I suggest the following:
Never eat raw red onions or garlic before going out anywhere you will be talking and trying to make a good impression
Never eat stinky fish before going out (tuna is ok but all others: uh – uh)
Always shower and wash your hair before going out; especially if you’ve been cooking
And put on clean clothes afterwards
Clean your teeth and floss
If on an actual date, do not have food with onion or garlic unless she does, in which case have onion and garlic or she will be the stinky breathed one. (It’s safest to order the same thing because of this)
Have a variety of things to talk about; try to avoid monologues about the best days of your life being at school (in intricate detail including teachers names, friends names and how clever you are, etc), the number of different flours you have tested in making sourdough bread including intricate detail of the entire process, or the number of Eastern European countries where you have slept with prostitutes. Ok, I realise none of these are relevant to you, but they really are all topics covered by people I’ve been on dates with. By default, the fact that these are not relevant to you demonstrates that you are way more interesting than some people out there 🙂
In addition to the ‘don’ts’ I’ve provided you with a small ‘do’ pack. This contains:
Floss. Floss before going out
Mints: Eat one just before you arrive so you are truly minty fresh
Aftershave: Go easy on this one – Dad and I tested it out and it’s quite…potent. So go for ‘less is more’ – maybe do a couple of squirts and walk into the mist rather than spraying direct on your skin.
Oh, and DO have a haircut every four weeks unless the object of your affection has a penchant for toilet brushes. Your hair is very toilet brush like unique , and either you need to keep it in check or do some styling…with wax or something.
And here ends the lesson.
I’ve put a few extra bits in your bags too – a freshly made chocolate cake to pop in your kitchen to make a good impression with the others you’re sharing with. And a bottle of vodka in case the cake doesn’t cut it. There’s the supernoodles and pasta packets so you don’t have to remember how to cut an onion in freshers week, and a Frey Bentos chicken pie, because are you even a student if you don’t eat Frey Bentos pies? And I know it wouldn’t cross your mind to take something like this, but think you’ll like it: I’ve printed and framed a few photos I thought you’d like – one of you, Stepson 2, Dad and Me, another of you, Stepson 2, Mum and her partner, and one of Percy – your furry brother.
I know this going away and doing the adulting thing is a bit scary, but I also know that you’ll do great. Mostly. Just follow the cook book, follow the lovely lady guide and if you don’t know how to cut up an onion (or anything else for that matter), take a deep breath and engage your brain (this is really key….please remember to engage that brain on the common sense side as well as the complicated numbers stuff you’re so good at), cross your fingers and do what you think will work best. Mostly, it will work out fine.
Because that’s really all adulting is: crossing your fingers, doing the thing, and hoping it will work out fine.
You know how I said last Tuesday that Tesco lacked some of the usual excitement on my own? Well, I really need to watch what I say.
I left home a tiny bit late as I had quite a few work bits that couldn’t wait until the evening, and (possibly) as a result, the M25 was more chaotic than usual which meant I got to Tesco a bit late. And as I got out the car I realised I’d left all my shopping bags at home, so I went through the car boot where I had a few odd ones with random stuff in them or disabilities like one handle and one with a slight hole in the bottom that I’d never got around to throwing out. I chucked all the bits in the bags loose into the boot and set off on my solo expedition.
It turns out that just a little while later than we usually go, pretty much all Bumpkinsville residents over the age of 70 descend on Tesco for a group outing; it was carnage.
The good news is that in your late 40’s, without small children or older parents to manoeuvre, you become almost invisible and while that means people don’t even think of moving out of your way as they put the world to rights with Betty from Bingo in the milk and cheese aisle, you can zoom around people too.
And zoom I did. Until I reached the tills where all these older people, who all presumably eat like locusts, were queued to with trolleys piled high, biscuits – and a surprising amount of wine – balancing precariously. As we know from experience, the lovely cashiers take their time with the oldies and have a lovely chat with them as they scan, so with four trolleys queueing at each till, the only option was the self service. A decision that everyone under the age of 60 in the shop had taken. So I got in line and snapped a photo to send to dad with an apology that I was going to be late:
And when it did get to me, I put through my shopping, paid and packed, then put through Mum and Dads shopping, paid and packed, and then I put through the rest of my stuff that had been under Mum and Dads stuff and paid and packed that and while I was doing that, feeling rather frazzled someone walked up to me and said:
‘Are you Helen?’ Then helpfully answered themselves before I could with ‘You are Helen’.
I don’t know about you, but if I see someone out of their usual context I have no hope of recognising them, even less of remembering their name, so I was flummoxed as to who they were and how they knew me. It turned out it was the Mum of a client, who is (like most of my clients and their parents) very lovely. Which was lucky as I was not portraying ‘therapist at leisure’ vibes. More ‘Bordering on out of control and ready to open the wine I’ve just put through the till…finally’ vibes. She didn’t seem to judge me though, in fact she told me she’d been recommending my services to friends. So I pulled myself together, attempted to look like the sort of person you’d continue to recommend to your friends despite meeting them in Tesco with three lots of shopping a somewhat frazzled expression, and one eye on the wine, and said thank you and goodbye. I followed a little behind her as I pushed the trolley out and….set all the blimnin’ alarms off. Of course I did.
The security lady asked to see my receipts. I gave her all three and said (possibly a little tightly) that at this point I was happy to just leave the lot with her and go home. Lady looked at the receipts, looked at me, and decided it was probably best not to poke the monster and said I could just leave…with all three lots of shopping packed into the array of partially useful bags.
See? That’s at least two weeks worth of excitement. Hopefully I’ve banked some too…
When I finally got to Mum and Dads, Mum and I rushed off to see her sister. And if I’m totally honest with you, after settling them with coffee and cakes I told them I had something to do and…sat in the car for thirty minutes to do a bit of crochet. That was partly to catch my breath and partly because Mum doesn’t often chat to people without someone else there too. And she usually gets that someone else to do the talking. I thought it would be nice not to do that. I sneaked back in quietly half an hour later and stood in the hall way listening. Mum and her sister were chatting away. I have no idea if either was listening to the other but they seemed quite happy, and when I walked in it turned out they were looking at old photos.
Old family photos and learning the stories behind them are one of my favourite things. My aunt said next time we go she’ll get some more out, so I’m looking forward to that. Mum can’t remember (or can’t express?) the stories behind them, but with my aunts prompts she did remember some bits. Like this: 🙂
According to Mr R, I am really, really good at coming to weird conclusions about things.
Out of the ordinary noise in the house? Pretty sure it’s a ghost.
Hot water not working? Boiler has broken (on this one I concede it turned out that after 48 years I STILL can’t work out which way a mixer tap does hot and which way does cold…)
Weird pathway through the 9 foot brambles at the nature reserve at the top of the road? Clearly elephants.
I mean, see what you think:
(Elephants, right?)
But something really odd happened the other day.
Percy and I went for our usual plod. I am making a concerted effort to do more running than walking and increase my speed at the moment (thank you Jo Whiley and Couch to 5km). Our plod is exactly 8km and I know where each km starts and finishes as I am a creature of habit and only have three route variations. They are all 8km.
(Except when I am feeling very fit and we stretch to a 10km for a day, then remember why we don’t do that often…).
So I was really confused when I looked down at my watch to check we were at the 5km mark and it said…6km. I assumed it must have glitched. When I got home my watch congratulated me on my fastest ever kilometer (Jo Whiley might be good at the coaching malarky, but I suspect a couple of weeks is probably not enough to improve that much…)
So I looked at the map, and what should look like this:
Looked like this:
I think you’ll probably agree that the only real possibility is that I was abducted by aliens around the 3km mark, popped in their space craft, zoomed around very fast for exactly a kilometer and popped back on the path to continue on my way.
So far it’s not happened again, but I am keeping my wits about me***. 😁
…or, possibly, my watch glitched 😂
***running is not my favourite thing and frankly anything that keeps my mind off it is a welcome distraction, even if that distraction might be alien spaceship spotting….
As Dad has all the ‘things’ a 78 year old who only leaves the house occasionally to get new library books could possibly need, so my sisters and I decided to cook and eat together instead of doing the ‘things’ thing.
We thought fancy. Then we remembered it was Dad. So we decided on ham, egg and chips – his favourite meal.
Even that wasn’t simple – Dad is very particular about his chips – in 9 months of shopping I’ve only managed to get one ‘really good bag’, only to forget what that was and get it wrong every time since.
So Sister 1 was in charge of the chips:
Percy and I got the ham and eggs:
And Sister 2 did her magic with birthday cakes.
And so yesterday we all sat down to food together (including two types of chips, obviously). And it was really rather lovely 🙂
Mum has been a bit wobbly so we thought maybe Tesco wasn’t a good idea – I went on my own instead, and while it took a lot less time than usual, it did lack some of the…shall we say…’excitement’ of the usual Tuesday Tesco Trip.
When I arrived at their house with the shopping I was really surprised that Mum noticed I was wearing a new scarf and asked if I’d made it. It was and I had. This felt like progress. Mum is a week into her epilepsy medication and I wondered if somehow it was making things better for her. That was short lived though…
I took Mum out to see her sister who lives about 30 minutes away. Mindful of what the doctor said about it being easier for mum to initiate conversations rather than answer questions I was mostly quiet. Mum did try to talk but had no recall of any names, places or in fact most words. But when we got to my aunts she took on the role of bossy sister deciding they should sit in the conservatory rather than the lounge and making sure her sister was comfortable. I made coffee, popped the cakes I’d bought on a table and went to see if some lovely friends nearby were in (They weren’t, but I thought having some time without me or my cousin listening in would be good for Mum and her sister so I sat in the car and did some emails). I have no idea how those 45 minutes went for them – my aunt has alzheimer’s and problems hearing and Mum…well, you know Mum. They both told me they’s had a lovely time though, so I’ll go with that.
On the way home Mum told me in detail how my cousin has been growing things in her green house. ‘Tomatoes?’ I asked
‘No…more interesting that that’ said Mum.
I assumed my Aunt had been telling her about this as it’s a topic they are all keen on.
‘Can you remember what she’d been growing?’
‘She wasn’t there very long actually, so I didn’t get the chance to ask her in too much detail’ Mum told me incredibly convincingly.
My cousin hadn’t been there – she is on holiday at the moment…
‘Oh well, you can ask her next time’ seemed to be the only response.
When we got back Mum showed me her knitting. She wanted to make herself something to wear a few months back so I worked out a very basic paper pattern, but it got too much, so I suggested she go back to the Tuesday blanket as she can knit as big or as small as she likes and if it goes wrong can throw that square away rather than undoing it and leaving Dad to untangle and re wind the wool – something that was starting to test his patience!).
She’d done some great knitting in the last week but it had a big hole – too big for me to fix – so I undid it back to that point, popped it back on the needles and suggested she cast off. Only it turns out the ability to do that has slipped into the abyss now, and she got very cross that I wouldn’t do it for her (I can’t knit, but suspect I may be learning how to cast off courtesy of You Tube very soon…).
There was so much frustration around between the lack of words and the lack of knitting skills that videoing didn’t even cross my mind. Mum was not happy with me (because I didn’t finish the knitting maybe?) that she didn’t wave me off like usual – she just stayed sitting on the sofa.
But maybe it is the tablets. Maybe when they are at the right level things will even out again. But she *did* notice my scarf 🙂
After my Neighbourhood (Mummy W) watch post the other day, a friend contacted me to ask if I’d filled in a Herbert Protocol form. I’d never heard of this before, so. looked it up:
According to Age UK:
‘The Herbert Protocol is a national scheme that encourages carers, family and friends to provide and put together useful information, which can then be used in the event of a vulnerable person going missing.
Carers and / or relatives and friends can complete a form in advance, including important information about the missing individual such as the contact numbers, medication needed, locations the person was last seen and so forth also a photograph can be provided.
The form can be easily sent or handed to the police in the event of a loved one going missing, reducing the time to gather this information. ‘
Because Mum is free range but rather limited free range, I doubt we will ever need it, but having had the frustrations when I called 999 a few months ago of ‘I have to ask these questions even if they are not relevant’ that tied me up answering them rather than being able to look after Mum, I figure anything you can do in advance that will save time when you need it is useful.
It took me about 40 minutes to fill in the form, but I did have to use a combination of my Mum and Dad Black Book for some details and check in with my sisters on…for example…how tall they thought Mum is now and how on earth we could describe her complexion.
If you have a relative in a similar sort of situation it does look like a pretty useful thing to have to hand or on file to email over to the police rather than scrabbling for information in the moment.
Norman cat has found his brave over the last few weeks and after four years of the upstairs and the front window ledge being his and much hissing and scratching of Percy if he tried to get close, he seems to have adopted a ‘F*ck that shit’ type of approach and has taken over the entire house, ignoring Percy entirely. Percy is utterly confuddled by the change in circumstances and mostly backs away quietly or walks around the edge of a room if he comes across Norman.
Norman is, of course, an old man now, at 14 and a half years old. Some days he eats, some days he doesn’t. Last weekend something must have tripped inside him and he was attacking anything that looked like food: a burger defrosting for the barbecue, a bag of donuts stepson one brought home from work, my freshly made veggie burgers…he even tried to swipe some baked beans off my plate!
Then he slept and slept and slept. And yesterday he stayed on the chair he’s adopted that’s now referred to as Norman’s throne all day and all night and was still there this morning. I thought perhaps this was the end. His breathing was slower than usual and slowed more while I sat with him. I held his paw. Mr R pointed out that maybe his breathing had slowed because I’d relaxed him so much with my paw holding and chatting.
Anyway, fast forward about two hours, Mr R opened the fridge and Norman shot off the Norman throne and climbed up the shelves in an attempt to reach the pork luncheon meat I’d bought especially to revive him. It seems to have done the job… 🙂
This Tuesday Percy and I were lucky enough to have Little Wisp with us on the last day of her summer holidays (Little Pea, who is now rather a Big Pea was busy starting secondary school…gulp!)
Mum was not feeling very well by the time we got back from Tesco, so (having lost the car and having to be rescued from trying to get in a car with a total stranger…we’ve all done it, haven’t we?) she decided to sit on the sofa and rest.
Mean while. Little Wisp, Percy and I went for a walk and followed that with a cooking show, for your delight. I thought Mum worked the camera – she doesn’t have a patch on Little Wisp… 😁😁😁😁
It is a little longer than usual, but if you would like comprehensive instructions on how to make a fruit salad – including a few important safety notes, I present: Tuesday TV! 🙂
the pog blog 