Day #45 > MONDAY 7th DECEMBER
I’m up early as Mum & Bob are off to Bob’s docs for the official results of his spine scans from last week. He is in a shocker of a mood. Nervous I’d guess, but I’m gentle & warm with him. Mum’s ok, but says she’s a little tired. I do comment on Bob’s mood to her, & she says she’s not in the best of moods either. No doubt Bob’s rubbing off on her eh – so I express my concerns about the wisdom of her going out when she could be resting, but of course she must do what she feels best. The both leave – with her collar on this time, hoorah! – & I walk Abel & then remove all Mum’s hard-core meds so there’s no possibility of her being given them, even in error, & subsequently settle down to getting the nuts & bolts of this impending blog set up on t’interweb.
Lia calls & we’re arranging her flights when the Deweys arrive back home. They leave me alone for a few minutes, then Bob comes in & starts on his tablet. Lia & I arrange all & once done I ask how it went. Bob has a couple of screws loose it turns out – no shit Sherlock! – & they’re at the base of his spine so he has asked them to hold off surgery till after Christmas. They haven’t found anything else new, some old fractures which are healing apparently, but nothing new new. I say that must be a huge relief. He shrugs. He confirms he’ll be in hospital for one or two nights in January. Could be worse, but Mum’ll need help then. And afterwards of course . . .
I wonder why he didn’t arrange for them to be done ASAP – at least whilst I’m here so I can offer some care & take the pressure off Mum? Oh well.
Mum’s tired – she’s a little uncertain as to what happened out – but at least they’ve also managed to get to the vets & got Abel a couple of meds, although they’re sitting on the kitchen worktop at this moment & Bob is feeding Abel popcorn . . . Sigh.
Mum goes for a snooze & I return to the blog.
She gets up around 30 minutes later, faffs around & then comes & sits next to me. Looking serious. Uh oh. Here we go . . .
‘I want to apologise & let you know that I’ve made a decision,’ she says. Uh oh indeed I think. ‘I’ve decided I want to be with Bob.’ She says. Ok, I say, ok. That was never in question though – as I thought you’d given Bob the ‘it’s me or the whiskey’ chat & he chose you. Technically twice, but let’s move forward & say that he’s now dry & he’s chosen you, so we agreed that during the time he was getting dry we’d have a vacation & maybe go to the UK or Crete to meet Lia’s family or wherever, it’s yet to be decided – but it was not decided that you were leaving Bob – unless someone’s put that thought in your ear Mum?
‘No no.’ she confirms, although I suspect my expression may have shown her I didn’t believe her. She carried on about being stupid & we had a little heart-to-heart about what love & care truly is, & that she had help & ultimately I was here to ensure she was happy & safe – I don’t want to split you & Bob up, in case you thought I do, but I won’t stand back & watch you put at risk or neglected Mum – it’s as simple as that. She agreed, thanked me profusely & once that little issue was dealt with I went to make tea.
Mmmm, how many points are on offer for her being fed the ’Tim wants to split us up’ line whilst they were out together his morning? Many many points I suspect. Hopefully she’s reassured that her care & well-being come first, & that I won’t stand by & watch her suffer. That, I feel, was music to her ears & she said she felt much better afterwards. Bless her. Bob pulling her in one direction & me seemingly in the other – if only she could see the truth Lord; please open her spiritual eyes to see & know the truth about right & wrong; light & darkness; truth & lies & care vs narcism . . .
We walk Abel – as I for one need some air – & we do indeed clear it. Mum has a full understanding that I’m ‘on her side’ & not ultimately out to split her & Bob up, although I will step in if required because right now she is reliant on a helping hand & I don’t always see Bob taking care of her. It’s his choice of whether to step up & take care of his wife or not, I say, & if he doesn’t all you’ve got to look forward to is being put in a nursing home whenever he is ready. That’s why I’m concerned Mum. I let that sink in.
Bob is clearly working on her regularly now – if not constantly – & he is taking her ‘out’ more now than I’ve ever seen before – so I can only deduce that he doesn’t like her in my sole company. It’s pretty obvious, as trawling around the shops with Bob is not in Mum’s best interests as I’m here, but that clearly doesn’t fit in with Bob’s agenda eh . . .
From then on the rest of the day is absolutely fine – even Bob seems in a slightly better mood. Gosh. No issues in the mid-afternoon & we eat some bizarre sour cream mince Stroganoff-style dish. I note it has mushrooms – the only ingredient I have ever told Bob that I don’t like. Interesting. I work my way through this rich dish without complaint though, as I’m generally trying to eat less than I used to as I’m not doing too much physically & I could do with losing a few pounds from my belly – sigh! – before Bob chips in with ‘do I know what this is?’ ‘Oh yes Bob, it’s a mince Stronganoff style dish right?’ ‘With mushrooms.’ He smiles. He comments that he can’t really taste them & ‘I agree, there isn’t much taste at all is there,’ but I do acknowledge that he & I both know I don’t like mushrooms but I’m not going to lose sleep over it, & I turn the conversation to Mum & make chitty-chat. What a fungi he is . . .
Off to bed after Jeopardy – no issues. Oh, Bob finally tries to give Abel his big flea/tick killing pill, but after cutting open the packet with a knife & trying to put the knife back in the drawer covered in flea pill powder he puts Abel’s bowl of food down without the pill. Yep. I mention this & his reaction is: ‘Susan, pick the bowl up. quickly!’ Oh my oh my, somehow Bob didn’t get the pill – & bowl – rammed down his own throat but between us the pill went into the food & eventually into Abel. What a kerfuffle . . .