First week over...

Hi everyone,

I hope you're all well.  I've missed this place!

Well... that's the first week over.  In some ways it's been easier than I expected, in other ways it's been harder.

Mum's been quite settled and happy.  Each day, she seems to be improving.  She has a good appetite and has eaten everything I've cooked for her.  She's also managed perfectly well with her personal care.  I've even had the confidence to pop out occasionally and leave her - though I'm never longer than a half-hour.  I usually leave it until the carers are here in the mornings and evenings, then go for shopping and to collect mail from my flat.  But I need a break during the day, too - just for air, if nothing else.  Mum has the TV on a lot, which I find difficult.  Also, the lack of space is a problem.  But I have the laptop set up in the kitchen, and I spend a lot of time out there.  I think she understands.  There was only one drama, back on Tuesday evening, when she had a hypo just before bed.  That was soon settled, though, with a sandwich and some glucose tablets.

Our decision not to let her go on the 6-week placement in a residential home was vindicated when one of mum's carers told us that she used to work there, and 'wouldn't send a relative of mine anywhere near the place.'  In fact, she said, it was working there that had made her decide to do community caring instead.  She wanted to work to keep people in their own homes for as long as possible.

So far, so good.

On the other side of it... I realise that mum can't be left alone any more.  She needs almost constant supervision.  She's getting very forgetful, and she'd probably simply forget to do things like take her meds.  I also know that moving out of this bungalow would probably kill her.  She doesn't want to leave while she can still manage it, and I don't blame her.  But she simply can't manage it alone.  In the week, I turned out her fridge and food cupboard, and think I discovered the source of the illness that almost killed her the other week.  Food that was way out of date.  I found a can of condensed milk with a 'Best Before' in 1998!  I found jars of things that had been opened and used once, then put in the fridge - again, way out of date.  I even found unopened jars that were so old that, despite refrigeration, had gone off.  Lids popped like guns when I removed them.  It wasn't forgetfulness, but the wartime spirit thing of 'you don't throw food away.'  Well, I threw a huge amount of it away.  It was deadly.

And what's been the hardest part?  Popping back to my flat in the evenings to collect the mail - and finding it empty.  No Daisy to greet me with her purrs.  I check in each room to make sure all's okay, and see the unused furniture and empty surfaces.  I yearn to be back there - just me and the cat.  But I don't want to think about the circumstances that will entail that.  On the first night, it hit me so hard that I panicked and left in a hurry to get back to mum's - not because I was worried about mum, but because I wanted to make sure Daisy was alright (she is - she's settled in fine).  I felt bad about that.  But an online friend, going through a similar situation, put me right.  She said it's only natural to want to protect what comes afterwards.  If I lost mum now, it would hit me like a tidal wave - but I'd get over it.  If I lost Daisy, though... I simply don't think I could go on.  It would break me completely.

Well... that's as it is so far.  I'm taking each day as it comes. 

It's all I can really do.  I can't think too far ahead.

I'll deal with the rest, somehow, when it arrives.