Day #01 > SATURDAY 24th OCTOBER
I’m simply expecting to observe for my first week, to get a full & accurate picture of what life is like for both Mum and Bob at Deweyland, as I strongly feel that if I start ‘throwing my weight’ around or suggesting this & that to ‘make life easier’ I’ll simply be viewed as a threatening trouble-maker by Bob & will very quickly get both of their backs up, as it is very clear they both feel they’re doing just fine & dandy by themselves.
My cunning plan goes out of the window when I see the state of the place in daylight: it’s absolutely filthy. I smelt the dog the moment I walked through the door last night, but now it’s very clear to see how much life has changed since I last visited.
Mum used to be so house proud, but now I simply can’t imagine the last time the Hoover came out, plus the place is littered with stains on the floor, along with stinky dog blankets – which incidentally Bob tripped over one evening & spent the night on the floor because he couldn’t get up – & the dog has fleas. Have I mentioned that? Apparently he’s had them for ‘around 3-4 weeks’. Eek. Actually everywhere has fleas, including the blankets, soft-furnishings & carpets . . .
Mum isn’t wearing her protective neck collar & Bob appears to constantly have a whisky glass in one hand & a tablet in the other today. He orders Mum around like his skivvy & hasn’t done anything apart from sit in his new leather throne. The biggest exercise I witness is the refilling of a glass or swapping the Amazon tablet for the TV remote control. It’s truly staggering. Well, he’s the one staggering . . .
I try to keep to the plan, so I focus on just the flea infestation & ensure Mum’s wearing her protective neck collar, as all else can wait for a week till I build up a full picture in context.
Mum herself is very disorientated & needs constant reassurance; she literally has zero self-confidence & needs help with everything – apart from when she decides to tidy something up, when she will move the something to somewhere she subsequently can’t remember. It’s a problem. It winds Bob up – he has very little patience. Mum also thinks she’s physically able to climb, jump & do whatever she wants to with zero input from Bob regarding her safety, or sanity come to think of it . . .
So, first things first, & my first morning sees us heading off to the shops to pick up some flea gear, & I insist that Mum wears her collar. Interestingly this causes a bit of a problem, as she can’t find it. Mmm. ‘When was the last time you wore it?’ I enquire. ‘I’m not sure!’ Comes the reply, & she’s genuine, as her memory is indeed poor. Short-term memory of a goldfish comes to mind . . .
The missing collar is eventually found & when I ask Bob about Mum not wearing it, he simply replies that she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to?! This is serious – as Mum’s walking Abel the dog on her own during the day & has a history of feeling dizzy & collapsing. Not to mention climbing around the home, putting things away, cleaning etc., etc – a broken neck & falling over don’t mix well – she could end up in a wheelchair if she falls. Sigh. I try to bite my tongue, but struggle as eventually I voice to Bob that the has no hesitation in telling Mum exactly what to do when it benefits him, but it’s vital that he offers care for her too, as she’s clearly at risk climbing around the place with no neck collar. He doesn’t take it well. He passes the buck, changes the subject & generally tries to wriggle out of it. I note all – especially his slopy shoulders – knowing that at least I can ‘enforce’ the collar wearing culture myself, even if he can’t.
Off to t’shops where Bob whinges about prices, but I pick up a proper Frontline capsule for Abel’s neck – which Bob replaces with a cheaper brand – along with some spray & powder for the furnishings. Once home I give Abel, his bed & the carpets a going over along with washing all the blankets. It’s a start.
Mum has wine again with dinner & the evening is very quiet, with something so bland to eat that I can’t actually remember what it is, & afterwards we watch a little TV where I make my jet lag excuses & head up to bed for an early night.
I notice the stairs & walls are wet from a recent spillage – maybe getting my bedroom ready?
Mum is constantly disorientated & on edge – although she gets calmer as the day unfolds & clearly sees me as help & a positive influence as she’s very warm to me – but it’s not rocket science to see that Bob’s heckles are up & I’m a threat. No wonder really, as he’s not caring for Mum at all – in fact he’s encouraging & enabling a whole host of dangerous situations here such as the stools in the kitchen for Mum to reach high things with & there are huge bottles of sherry in the house. Wow. I vividly recall that both I and the doctor were told that Mum ‘occasionally has one light beer with food.’ Oh, I’m starting to get the picture here – but I’ll just keep on observing for now . . .
