Saturday visiting

A long, crowded bus journey.

Where did all these young people come from at 8.30 on a Saturday morning? Have they been to bed yet?

A long black coffee. I’m never really ready to engage with the day without that.
Fresh lipstick.

Making an effort.
Fix the hair.
Walk half a mile in the wind and rain.
Decide the hair is best ignored.

Hugs for Herself, who’d forgotten I was coming.

Struggle to understand anything my mother is trying to say.  Fail.

Hold hands.

Thank Mr GP for medication. Mine.

Fix Herself’s hair.

Apply lipstick, blusher and eyeliner to Herself.

Wheel Herself round to the nurse to get eyedrops and saliva spray.

Wait for Door2Door bus.

Arrive at house, with Wonderful Carer.

Eat lunch while chatting to Wonderful Carer.

Herself intervenes to ensure less discretion on my part.

General conversation turns to gossip. She’s a bad influence, that one.

Tidy up kitchen.

Wonder what the would-be-robbers would have stolen this week if they’d made it in.  The household is full of sentimental value, but nothing to make a quick killing on.

Get lift to bus depot with Herself’s Handsome Husband.

Experience relief that illness hasn’t further diminished his driving.

The young people are back on the bus- decide they’ve been to visit the Ulster American Folk Park. (Well worth a trip; the girls still speak of its cold cramped smelly conditions with some horror- so, highly effective then.)

Home, to find that the household had been baking.

Go away for the day, and look what happens!

Yum.

Home.

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10 thoughts on “Saturday visiting”

  1. Very sad when people who were once so independent and capable start to need help and looking-after. My mum is now 89 but luckily still very independent and healthy. Hopefully she’ll continue that way.

  2. There’s nothing to add. Watching the pain and decline of someone you love is so difficult. Being there for them. And including them in the activity of your daily life. Baking – wonderful smell to come home to. (After all – you’re on too strict a diet to eat the cakes!!!)

  3. Nick, it’s difficult indeed, and you’ll see more of my ramblings about it on here- be warned 🙂 Herself is in a nursing home, but gets back to her own house several afternoons a week.

    Mise, I like ‘valiant’. It makes me feel like knight- handsome, capable and brave. Much rather that than than a wimpy fair maid!

    Kileen, I think encouraging the baking is the way to go…

    xtrekki, you know better than that 🙂 I think I’ve just been eating masses of green stuff as well as everything else rather than instead of 😦

    Annie, thanks. I think I might rather be doing some of your travelling, for a week or two anyway…

    Hello there TillyBud *waves*

  4. I love this! How you manage to say so very much with such economy is beyond me. This is what life is about: one day, I hope someone will do this for me. For now, I do this stuff for someone else.

    You write quite beautifully. I’ll stop gushing now.

    1. Ah no, Kate, gush away. My head can still fit thru the door, so there’s room for more swelling 😉
      Many thanks for the kind words (I’m a bit blown away and had to get Spurs Fan to come and look!)

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