My Mum’s zen hasn’t lasted long and she’s back to henpecking my Dad and telling everyone what they’re doing wrong. I preferred the laid back version, even if it freaked me out 😉
She can now get to the front door with her zimmer but really struggles to get over the front door step especially as the vestibule is really narrow and there isn’t room for someone to steady her, so I spent Monday fitting a grab rail so that she has something to hold on to while she navigates getting her feet over the stoop. I naively thought it would be the job of the OT from the rehab team to sort stuff like that out but no such luck.
By Wednesday Mum was looking really rough so I rang the surgery to request a call from the duty doctor, which took 2 hours. She prescribed some tablets which didn’t help and by the next day Mum was no better so I then spent 4 hours waiting for the Doctor to visit. Her meds were adjusted and she seems to be picking up again. I’m never grateful I’m chronically ill, but there are times I’m grateful I’m not working full time because Lord knows what would happen to my parents if I were and couldn’t spend the time with them during the day that I do.
Her own GP had promised last week to come back on Monday to monitor her mental health following her alcohol withdrawal but has she put in an appearance? That would be a big fat no. Mental health in the elderly is simply ignored, so it’s no bloody wonder we have an epidemic of alcoholism amongst our old folk.
Just when I thought my days of trailing 60 miles to the city to visit someone in hospital were over my 90 year old next door neighbour was admitted this week. She broke her arm 6 weeks ago so that’s in plaster and this week when she went to get out of her chair she found she couldn’t stand or walk. She broke her hip 2 years ago, so the initial thought was that it had fractured again, but scans show no problem so they’re still a bit flummoxed as to what the issue is. Her son lives in the village but can barely be arsed to bother with her and her daughter lives 400 miles away in Southampton. I’m a keyholder, visit once a week and do what I can for her but to be fair I’m sick myself and already have a lot on my plate looking after my own parents. Everyone tells me she’s not my problem and they’re right, however someone has to care for her and being as though no-one else is stepping up to the plate that person is me. She was admitted to hospital last Saturday. I went to see her on Friday as that was the first chance I had due to taking care of my Mum and I was the first visitor she had had, despite the fact her son and all but one of her neighbours are retired and do bugger all all day. They’re a disgrace.
She has a cleaner once a week, but I’ve no idea what it is exactly she cleans because my neighbour lives in squalor. At the start of the summer I took it upon myself to blitz her kitchen, despite the fact I pay somone to clean my own house because I find it so exhausting and painful. I simply couldn’t bare the thought, though, of her living in that kind of filth. This week I had to go into the house to collect toiletries, slippers etc. to take through to the hospital for her and while I was there tidied and cleaned the kitchen which was, once again, a shit tip. She can no longer reach the top cupboards, so food is permanently left on the counters. There were opened packets of cereal, bread, biscuits, crisps, margarine and jam and surrounding those were tiny little brown pellets. Yep, she unsurprising has a mouse infestation and I scooped 2 handfuls of poop off just one kitchen counter. Mice carry any number of diseases and to think they may have been crawling about in her cereal packets which she has then eaten doesn’t bear thinking about.
I’m in touch with her daughter down south so told her what I’d found. “Oh, yeah” she replied, “when we were up last month I moved the chair in the lounge to hoover and found mouse droppings so I know she has them”. WT-actual-F?! So she knew her Mum’s home was infested by mice and just buggered back off to Southampton without doing anything about the situation. Not only that, but if her cleaner had ever stepped foot in the kitchen she would have seen the droppings. Plus she has carers who go in 3 times a day and who make her lunch. How can you make food but not wipe the kitchen counter afterwards?! People never cease to amaze me and my very old, frail, vulnerable neighbour is being let down on a spectacular level. There is no way on earth she should be allowed to return home and should be in residential care.
So my week has been dominated by old, sick people. Not that I mind, but it is tiring and I was exhausted enough to start with. We have several healthy, active neighbours who could be helping out with my 90 year old but do they give a toss? Nope. Selfish fuckers – I hope when they’re old they all get sick and no-one cares for them.
My hormones are still playing silly buggers. This month I ovulated really early then had period pain so bad on day 18 I literally couldn’t stand upright, so I was convinced I was going to have a very short cycle this month. But I’m now on day 27 and no sign of Aunt Flo. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.
Unsurprisingly my histamine level is really high and consequently I’m not sleeping, which isn’t helping my energy levels one iota. Add to that vertigo attacks, migraines, itchy hives and all sorts of pain issues and I’m a bit fed up, plus it’s not looking like my much needed 2 week stay-cation is going to happen any time soon.
There are times I wish something nice would happen. Something wonderful to lift my spirits and which would feel like a reward for all the drudgery. Like a multi-million pound lotto win, or meeting the man of my dreams in the Quorn aisle of the supermarket. Or even just 8 hours kip or a lie in past 6am. I don’t feel it’s asking too much 😉