Santa never forgot!

It was Merry 'pretend' Christmas in Maidstone last weekend.  Dad went to respite for a week while I went to visit my daughter Vicky and my two gorgeous grandkids.  They recreated Christmas...just for me.  The time flew by.  It always does when the kids are around.  I wish it was possible to slow time down...if only to have 5 minutes more with them.

The days leading up to this precious visit were fraught with stress as the conclusion of my mother's Will was eminent.  Having that on my mind didn't help when dealing with dad.  I can't share my burdens with him.  He ambles on protected by his oblivious mind.

Visits back and forth to the Solicitor...signing papers that I rage over but have no control to change.  Flooding my mind with Prosecco as soon as dad retired for the night.  Watching their 50th Anniversary party CD on a loop and falling asleep resolving nothing.

I left my dad in the hands of the care home and flew off to find my peace.  I called to make sure dad was okay every other night.  The rest of the time I spent soaking up cuddles from tiny arms and enjoying conversations with 4 year old Jessica whose relentless vocabulary knows no bounds.  I lost myself in her childlike world wishing I didn't have to return to my adult one.

On my last day in Maidstone, the Will and it's shocking outcome concluded.  I'm glad my mother will never know that her wishes were overridden by Scottish Law.  I'm just glad it's all over.  There's a bitterness buried deep within me that will never go away but in contrast, there is also a relief that I no longer have to deal with it.

Nobody will take the piss out of YOU Dad.  My inner strength gained an extra layer overnight.  I've got your back...don't worry.

Back on Scottish ground, I enjoyed one more day doing stuff just for me before I collected dad from the Care Home.  He was more than glad to see me.  With my batteries recharged I was happy to be back and into the routine that keeps him happy and spoiled.

I didn't miss Columbo!

The Care Home still haven't followed up with my constant insistence that my dad needs a bit more help than he appears to.  I know by the fact that he returned home with three full sets of clean clothes and five out of eight incontinence pads that I'd provided.  When I went into the bathroom in his room to retrieve his toiletries, I found a very soiled pad which he'd removed and left next to the wash basin.  I put a clean pad on him before we left and made sure he brushed his dentures.  This isn't a task he would do on his own without prompting so I'm guessing by the dryness of his toothbrush and the tube of paste looking less than used that he's been lacking in personal hygiene.

I didn't leave without voicing my annoyance and also my concern for my dad.  I keep my dad in soft shoes as opposed to the chunky brogues he can no longer walk comfortably in.  I didn't notice until I got him home that the heels on both shoes were turned in and he was walking in them like slip on sandals!

Please assist my dad with washing and dressing.  Please.  That's all I ask.  Basic care.  Even though I have been a Carer for some years, it's awful to admit that my faith in the care providers is waning.  I don't know what it's like any more to feel totally relaxed.  I'll get a phone call one day to tell me that he's had a fall...while dressing or undressing himself.  It will come.  It shouldn't if my words have been heeded.  But it will...

I started a Facebook page for Dad and me.  I can't remember all of my dad's little quips over a period of time and miss a lot when I come to write things down.  I seem to save all my complaints and troubles for the blog these days.  So I hope our Facebook daily dose of something or another will work hand in hand with our blog.

I'm absolutely bowled over by the response to both...and to Dad and me personally because of our interaction with the world.  Your reviews and comments go a long way to help me maintain my positivity.