Day #66 > MONDAY 28th DECEMBER
Mum & Bob are eating breakfast when I arrive downstairs – all seems pleasant & as it should be. I note Bob has a couple of new NA beers in the fridge – one of them cracked open – & a glass by his chair. Mmmm. It’s getting worse. I must count the number of cans left at some point.
Mum & I walk Abel – a lovely long walk as although a little chilly the sun is shining brightly & a lovely still day outside. We chitty-chatty, but don’t touch on anything deep or meaningful, as she is on good form & it’s a refreshing change to keep all light!
Once back Bob gives me a hand-written list of the details of the counsellor recommended by the doc along with full insurance details to use – God forbid he has to actually pay! We discuss it briefly, but Bob heads off on a tangent about people from church & who they’re married to – along with gay marriage?! – so I just smile really, although I let it be known that to me counsellors should be chosen by how you feel about them, as certificates don’t cut the mustard as they’re not earned in the real world dealing with real world situations – although a Christian is an absolute must.
They head on off out at 11.30am, as Mum has an appointment for an eye check at the opticians – which if she passes will enable her to renew her driving licence. Hoorah!
Where’s your collar?’ Bob asks her. What?! Sigh. Mum replies quick as you like: ‘I don’t wear it anymore.’ What a piece of work he is. It takes all I have not to illustrate to him personally what needing to wear a collar himself would feel like . . .
Instead, when asked if I wanted to come out I suggest that just the two of them go out together – as ‘perhaps you’ll get a lovely lunch out, or go for a short walk, or simply spend some great time together as I’m aware you two need some time with each other.’ Mum rolls her eyes. ‘Go on, treat yourselves – you’re worth it!’ Ha. I reinforce my hope that they spend some proper time together, as this is what their future will look like . . . I let that sink in whilst I get on with phoning round counsellors . . .
I short-listed a few & spoke with one recommended by Dr. Lyle; I gave her the basics & she said she’d have to speak to her boss as it sounded tricky! No shit Sherlock! I confirmed that a Christian who is familiar with alcoholics & narcissistic behavioural traits would be ideal, & was assured they’d be in touch, along with a recommendation if they couldn’t help themselves.
The Chuckle Brothers are gone for nearly three hours & return with some food shopping. Bob spends slightly too long in the garage before coming into the house for my liking. Yeah yeah, Miss Marple here is very cynical, but previous events have influenced this hugely. They haven’t done anything at all apart from drive to the store, walk around Walmart, visit the opticians & then drive back. Apparently. Nearly three hours?! They’d done nothing special at all. And they haven’t had lunch – apart from ‘a small cinnamon roll in Walmart’s car park’ according to Mum. It’s 2.00pm & she’s a little wibbly with her memory, so I urge her to have some food as lunch is so important, but she’s adamant all she needs is a banana. And some M&Ms. You can’t make the horse drink eh . . .
Most importantly Mum did pass her eye test so we can crack on with getting her driving licence reissued sharpish – which is a real positive, as it will give her the much-needed feeling of being independent once again.
She seems relatively calm so I hang around for an hour or so before departing upstairs to do some messaging & have a little siesta, as I’m feeling tired today. I sleep deeply for an hour or so & head on downstairs at 5.00pm to chat with Aunty Jane.
Mum walks in with an NA beer. Gulp. I think she’s shared with Bob – so he’s definitely a bad influence & I pray that Mum doesn’t get a taste for it again, regardless of NA brew or full-fat beer – it’s not good news, even though she’s now off the meds, last thing we want is a gradual (or not so gradual!) return to The Bad Old Days.
Mum & I speak with Jane – but Bob doesn’t join in as per usual, & once the call ended we had dinner, which is Bob’s reheated chicken & gravy soup. I ask if he wants me to bring his beer into the dining room from the den: ‘What beer? I haven’t got any beer!’ He retorts.
Ahh.
‘Your glass of beer in the den.’ I say, ’Your beer that looks like beer, smells like beer & is 0.5% alcohol. That beer!’ I say. ‘Oh, the brew . . .’ he says. Blimey, talk about pedantic. Sigh. He had another two new ones in the fridge – one cracked open . . .
Accompanying Bob’s soup are two slices of toast, one of which is black. Properly black – like charcoal. The soup also looks a bit iffy – almost separated oil & water – so let’s see if I have any tummy issues later! Mum apologises profusely, but it’s not a problem, as I scrape the toast back to a medium brown & return to the table. After we’ve eaten I ask Bob if he’s in a bad mood – as he’s very tetchy this evening – but he says, & I quote: ‘No, I’m in a great mood!’
Ha.
Mum chips in: ‘Are you sure Bob, because you seem in a bad mood to me!’
I smile inwardly & just carry on loading the dishwasher before heading in the den to watch mindless TV to end the day.
Bob is becoming very hard work & my patience is really being tested. I’m trying my very best to be ‘nice’, but I wonder if I’m giving off bad vibes, but ultimately I’m keeping my focus on Mum as she’s at risk; I’d be delighted to offer Bob some help & support, but he simply won’t take it. Or admit he needs it. I’m not getting anywhere with him – actually quite clearly making it worse for Mum too, as she’s bearing the brunt of Bob’s bad mood.
I note Mum didn’t have lunch today & by the end of the day she’s more confused than usual – for example tonight she said that she was going to go upstairs to bed, & when reminded that she sleeps downstairs she apologised for her clothes being in my bedroom. Only change today is spending time out with Bob alone & no lunch apart from a cinnamon roll & a banana. Which is it?!