Caring is sharing

I couldn't resist buying this little doormat today.  It made my dad laugh and it was only a fiver in a sale.  No brainer then.

This morning I told him it was Sunday...a day of rest, hoping that the message would sink in and I could sit a little longer watching Food Network before he got up to make his way to the shower (several times).  It worked for as long as it took Ree Drummond to show us a couple of tasty bites making us 'drool at the mooth' (translate: 😋) then I thought I'd better get him sorted so that he could feel settled...or maybe so that I could.

I took him out to the shopping centre once again for his usual cup of tea and a slice of lemon cake.  He's gone up a size in trousers since I've been looking after him which isn't a bad thing...for him.  As for me, the weight is creeping on (rampantly) and I have the cheek (a lot of cheeks actually) to wonder how this can possibly be as I shove a blueberry muffin down my throat before lunch time.  I also yawn my head off in the evening but as soon as my dad has left the room to retire to bed, the living room door isn't even properly shut before I'm illuminating the entire kitchen with the light from the fridge!  For some reason (which is not so beyond my reasoning if I allow myself to think about it to be honest) I cannot get a handle on this.  But I know that I will.  It's just not going to happen today, and probably not tomorrow.  But it will..and that'll do.

I decided to have a search in a collection of DVD's that my mother has collected over some years but are stored on shelves that cannot be reached unless you're Spiderman.  Having ate, slept and spat out Columbo (formerly James Bond) for weeks, days and nights (and in my feckin dreams!) I decided it was worth the risk of falling and breaking my neck as I stood on a stool and reached up to fetch something different...in the shape of Alfred Hitchcock Collection.  Wish me luck!

Dad started to nod off just before dinner time.  "Have a wee snooze dad," I told him.  "I'll get out of your way and give you some peace."

"I think I will," he said, then lay his head back as I left the room with Poppy (dug!) and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea with the intention of sitting outdoors for a little while as the sun had decided to grace us with it's presence.  I boiled the kettle, poured my tea and lifted the cup to take a sip when the kitchen door opened...and in he came.  "That was a good wee sleep!" he stated.  "Was it?" I said.  Either he only just blinked or the kettle boiled for 2 hours.  I get to the point where I question (my sanity) everything!

"Tea dad?" I asked.  "Don't mind if I do," he smiled.

My dad goes to respite every month from Friday until Monday.  This was set up to give my mother a break.  Each time he was there I would visit him for an hour or so and take him out for coffee.  He really enjoyed my visits and I hated leaving him behind when I left but I couldn't interfere with the arrangement as I understand, perhaps now more than ever, that this break is essential...for the carer.

He is going in to respite earlier this time.  It was all a bit quick when my mother was taken to hospital.  I really became my dad's carer overnight although I didn't realise the permanency then.  I struggled for many reasons to be able to secure any emergency care at that point and it was very frustrating.  The extra time this month has been allocated because of that, to make up for what couldn't be done for me (us) then.  I am very grateful...but also dreading.

My dad has already had a spell in respite just after my mother died and I couldn't visit because I had so much to do with regard to the funeral and other personal stuff but it has only really hit me that I won't be visiting on any of his stays from here on in.  This would defeat the purpose of the 'rest' that I need during that time and yet to fully acknowledge.  I can barely look at him (I feel guilty) as he sits on the settee with his feet up on the recliner, munching (LOUDLY) his favourite salt and vinegar crisps and immersed in the TV...Hitchcock long abandoned, it's Miss Marple on Channel 10! (for now).

I will be taking him to respite on Tuesday afternoon and I won't be picking him up until the following Monday.  I won't be telling him that he is going until Tuesday morning.  I could explain sooner, but doing so would only agitate him and he would question relentlessly where he was going and for how long.  I won't pack his suitcase until the morning either otherwise it will be unpacked and repacked several times...not by me...until it's time to go.  I worry that this length of time is just too much too soon.  I fear that I will turn into a nightmare carer who will call the Care Home every hour on the hour asking if my dad is okay!  I've DONE the job forf**ksake in the very Care Home that he goes to so I should bloody know better.  But it is a very different thing caring for others than having others care for your own.  I am already way too possessive and defensive.  Hopefully this will get better with help (wine) and understanding (Maltesers).

I made him tomato pasta tonight for dinner and he is wearing a fair amount of the sauce on his new jumper.  I collect the dishes and go to the kitchen to wash up.  I stupidly mention that I should put away the folding chairs that I left outside earlier as I thought rain was on the way.  He shuffles past me to go outside.  Realising that he is going to attempt to fold the chairs, I throw the last of the wet dishes onto the sink top and hurry outside to beat him to it.  "I'll do that dad," I say.  "I don't want you falling over outside."  He starts to chuckle and shake his head, then make his way back indoors.  I put the chairs away and go back inside to see him pick up a dirty dishtowel that I'd left aside for washing with the intention of drying the dishes.  "Just leave those to dry themselves dad, no point in getting the dishtowel wet!" I say.  "Very good!" he says, then leaves the room with, "I'm off for a pee!"

I dry the dishes (with the clean towel!), put them away and do a forensic search before he returns.  Safe environment (until such time he proves me wrong) I retire to my comfy chair...hopefully for the night.

But you never know...