Oh what a tangled web we weave..

I didn't close my eyes until the early hours this morning which wasn't good preparation on my part for the day ahead.  This morning I had to get dad ready for his Wednesday visit to the Day Centre.  I had an appointment with a solicitor immediately after dropping him off and hadn't sorted out all the documents I needed to take with me so I left myself little time to shower and dress.  In fact, by the time I gave dad his breakfast and meds and started the stopwatch, I only had time for a lick and a wipe!  I swept my hair into a clasp and put a wee bandana around my head to tuck in the stray ends.  I walked out the door like Hilda Ogden while my dad looked all sleek and suave with his brylcreem hair and sharp clothes.  He got into the car, turned to me and said, "You know, I forget where we are going."  "You're going to your Day Centre to see all your pals and play Bingo," I said.  "While you're busy enjoying yourself, I've got an appointment to go to...but don't you worry about me," I joked.  "I'll be fine. You just have fun while I do all the donkey work!"  He laughed and mumbled, "Daft buggar."

I presumed it was me to whom he was referring.

I dropped him off, said my farewells and "see you later" then headed off.  Get this appointment done and dusted, get home and get a good start on the second leg of the cake decorating before I need to collect dad again at 2 o'clock.  Sorted...I thought.

I can't go into personal details of the day's events but I can hopefully give a word of warning to anyone who plans to sort out their funeral arrangements in a prepaid package which includes making a Will.  My mother thought she had everything all wrapped up and tied neatly in a stress free bow.  All the 'legal' documents I had to offer have no legality at all.  They might as well have been addressed "Dear Santa".

The Solicitor looked so apologetic and said, "Your mother has been ill advised.  This is one of the worst messes I've had to deal with"  To top it all, I am liable for the fees to sort it all out and those fees will be double what they would have been had things been put in place properly.

We talked about the past couple of years and how things had progressed with my mother's illness, my dad's Dementia and my role in all of it.  I got to the point where I could feel myself tearing up.  There are decisions that have had to be made and steps that have had to be taken.  The Solicitor put his hand over his mouth and shook his head before saying, "You're doing the right thing...but I wish I could make it better."

Well you can't Mr. Solicitor...but I bloody can...and I bloody will.

I got into my car and headed home.  Determined not to satisfy the need to wail and scream, I offered leniency to short bursts of sobs and sniffs instead.

I had just over an hour now to go and pick up my dad.  With an impending headache and an intense lump in my throat I decided to throw caution to the wind and fried up THREE thick sausages, wedged them between two slices of bread and bonded it all together with brown sauce.  I was tempted to make an open sandwich and cover it with beans but this time caution and wind deterred me!

Feeling substantially full, (requiring a JCB to lift me off the couch!) I made a start on decorating the cake but made little headway before setting off to collect my dad.

"Hello my darling!" he beamed, as he linked his arm through mine.  "Have you had a good day?" I asked.  "Yes I have," he said.  "Are you ready to put your feet up when you go home?" I asked.  "Oh aye," he said.

I made no mention of the days events or where I'd been.  Instead, I got him settled in his chair, put his DVD on...I won't even bother to tell you which one...and made him a cup of tea.  I told him I was going to be a bit busy again in the kitchen as I had to get the cake finished for tomorrow.  I showed him what I had achieved so far and he looked at it as if seeing it for the first time, and asked me for the hundredth who was it for.  Satisfying his questions, he then said, "That is absolutely beautiful."

I'd finish off another part of the 'scene' on the cake and offer him another viewing each time.  

Each time he'd ask me who it was for...and tell me it was beautiful.

Enjoying a cup of tea and a (another) packet of crisps, my dad called out, "Did you see that?"  "See what?" I asked.  "Him (Columbo)...him there.  He went into that wummin's hoose (the murder suspect's house) and he just put his feet up on the table.  That's pure ignorance that."  I stifled a laugh and replied, trying to sound logical, "Maybe he knows her well."  "That's no right!" he continued.  I looked at his face and he was dead serious.  "Ignorant!" he mumbled.  I offered no further response.  Sometimes there is no point in trying to explain the reality of things such as Columbo being a fictional character on a TV screen.  Dementia hinders the ability to determine fact from fiction quite often.  I recall a time when Judge Rinder was on TV and my mother and dad were watching.  Suddenly my dad pointed to the Judge and told my mother, "See that man there?  He taught me all the dance steps I know."  If he had said that to me I'd have answered "Did he?"  But my mother's approach to Dementia was a tad less understanding...or subtle.  Her response was "How could he?  He's on the telly!" which could have resulted in World War 3.  Instead she went all out for Armageddon as she continued, "He lives in England.  How could you meet HIM?  Eh?  Eh??"

BOOM!!

She never did learn the meaning of "go with the flow" when it came to my dad, which is why she was prone to expletive recitals from him...followed by him putting on his shoes and making to go off "for a walk" which of course she had to stop him doing.  My dad would shout at her from outside, sentences that I cannot print but were only made up of two words...the second being "off!"

My mother was often mortified but was hopeless at calming a situation and couldn't...or wouldn't be told.  She would call me so, so many times and  I tried to offer advice but grew tired of ending up with my nose in a sling.  She'd get off the phone in a huff.  I'd sigh deeply and self medicate with wine.  By the end of the bottle I'd have forgotten about the argument, or the advice and be too busy trying to kill a lump of fluff on the floor with my slipper to care!

Those were the days.

I'm off to bed soon and I don't dare to think what tomorrow will bring...except for the sound of the wee shuffling feet entering the living room and a hearty greeting for "dug!"

"Did you have a good sleep?"

And so it begins...Groundhog day!  😉