Day #56 > THURSDAY 18th DECEMBER
A good start to the day. Hoorah! I don’t think I’ve written that before have I?! Despite making a new brew & emptying the dishwasher & generally tidying up whilst the Dewey’s chill out – Mum and Bob seemed happier this morning & the sun is shining outside, so I hope there’s some sunshine inside today too.
The storm quickly gathers . . .
Mum goes from being bright & chatty to struggling to find her neck collar & then confusing it with looking for Abel’s collar. I kick it off by saying she’ll need both Abel & her own collar for us to go walking, so she starts to search. Can’t find them so asks me – I suggest that her bedroom or en-suite would be prime areas, but am aware that her eyes don’t always register what’s in front of her. Five minutes later she returns – sans collars – & repeats the same question. I now change tack & suggest that she asks Bob for some help, as I won’t always be here & ‘you two’ should focus on working together, which of course Mum finds an incredibly wise suggestion. She asks Bob, who raises one eye over his tablet & says it’s in the bathroom. Off Mum trots. Two minutes later she returns to me without her collar & asks where Abel’s collar is. I sigh inside. I suggest she asks Bob for some help, as I won’t always be here & ‘you two’ should focus on working together, which of course Mum finds an incredibly wise suggestion. I hope this memory thing isn’t catching! Mmm, Mum goes to ask Bob the same question as before & Bob replies exactly the same way. Mum goes off to look & I go off to have a word with Bob . . .
‘Bob . . .’ I say, ‘Bob, I have an observation but I’m aware that you’ve asked me to leave & you don’t necessary want my thoughts, but can I say something?’ He squeaks. I take this to be acceptance so try ever so gently to point out that 40-odd years of telling Mum what to do & when to do it & her performing said task isn’t working so well now, as things have changed & Mum occasionally needs a gentle guiding hand to achieve things – especially first thing in the morning, when none of us are at our best. He squeaks again. I take that as acceptance too – although it could of course have been a very rude word – & head into the bedroom to help Mum.
Bob comes into the bedroom to join us & starts issuing orders & commands to Susan of how to fit her now found collar. I take a breath & get a get a little bit too close to Bob. Face to face. I speak a little bit too sternly. A little bit too deliberately & my eyes are locked on his: ‘Bob, you’ve just told Mum exactly the same thing twice & she didn’t find her collar, now you’re telling her how to fit it; this is a reflection of so many issues in your house so if you give Mum a little bit of your time & actually physically help her it’ll make such a difference to both her & you – as Mum won’t be constantly feeling like she’s stupid because you’re getting annoyed & you won’t be faced with your wife being confused & interrupting your TV & tablet viewing.’
Bob lets out another squeak – although this time it seems to be accompanied by either a sense of understanding or resentment – alas I cannot discern which right now, so I brush whatever it is off & ask Mum about her coat.
Bob jumps in to help & tells her to get her coat out of the closet – so not quite the knight in shining armour, more like a nasty-bastard Sergeant Major – & I say, in no uncertain terms: ‘Here we go again Bob, you telling Mum what to do rather than actually helping & showing her what she needs.’
He recoils, & says: ‘Susan, come back, come here, come here.’ I kid you not. As Mum had headed to her walk-in wardrobe rather than the closet in the hall where the coats are kept.
As she starts to return, he tells her that her coat is in the closet & to follow him, where he opens the door & hands her her coat.
Whoa there. Help at last! This is the best he’s got I think – it’s an incredibly low starting point but there was a glimmer of hope there . . .
She gets it on & we go for a walk. She tells me she’s sorry about what’s just happened, but I reassure her that we’re both here to help whenever it’s needed, exactly as we know that she’d help us if we needed – it’s just what we do & is a sign of a perfectly normal relationship. She says she’s not sure how much longer she can continue with Bob’s callous attitude – which threw me a bit, as 99% of the time she perceives Bob to be a saint. I nod & remind her there’s always the option of living with me whenever she’s ready, but don’t push anything today, including suggesting that as we’re seeing the docs on Tuesday to talk about the future just to see how the day goes but be assured that plans are afoot to make sure life is lived however she wants it. She’s reassured, but feels she’s not worthy of course . . .
We return & have a quiet day. I tidy, fiddle with the website & generally keep myself occupied whilst Mum does some light gardening duties. She has a siesta early afternoon & when we reconvene around 4.30pm when I start cooking – spag bog tonight, but with steak as well as mince – she constantly offers to help & is clearly desperate for something to do. Something to actually do, to make her feel worthwhile. So I ask her to chop some veg & she contributes nicely. At one point I found my mask in the bin – cloth mask, freshly washed, sigh! – & she tidies up utensils whilst they’re still being used – but she was delighted to have been involved. Spag was good – they both ate all, we chatted relatively well & Groundhog Day Eve ensued, although Gina pinged over a message inviting us all over – no, not just inviting, but ‘encouraging’ us – to join them at her sister’s for Christmas Day lunch – which was such a joy, as I must confess the thought of spending Christmas Day with just the Chuckle Brothers here doesn’t hold much appeal, as there’s still no decs up, no presents mentioned – apart from Bob offering to buy Mum a waste disposal unit for the kitchen – & let’s face it, the prospect of cheapo Costco turkey doesn’t exactly pull my cracker . . .