Categories: uncategorized
Date: 14 December 2006 21:27:48
It's been quite an interesting day. I think that's a good term to use. Yes, definitely interesting.
The morning started less than hopefully. When I went to dismantle Dad's bed this morning, he was still in it. Not too promising. He was weak and unresponsive and.. well, not to put too fine a point on it, totally doolally. He greeted me with the words "bloopaloopaloop" which is not his usual morning greeting and proceeded to hand me an invisible cup of cofffee. Slightly disconcerting. The Mac nurse reckons it's particularly bad in the mornings because Dad's getting dehydrated.... hmmm, wonder if that's got anything to do with how little he's drinking? But seriously, he's clearly getting frailer and frailer at the moment, despite bursts of strength and energy which catch us almost unawares. But by the time I'd rung the hospice to share my concerns, he was up and about and really rather with it.
As things progressed a knock on the door indicated the arrival of the new bed. Great. "I am afraid Dad's been really unwell this morning and we haven't yet moved the old double divan out of the bedroom". The removal man was nothing if not helpful. In fact, I could have saved my typing fingers a bit off effort and put the full stop after the word "nothing". He helpfully stood out of the way while I, my sister with the damaged back, and my tiny fourteen year old son manhandled (womanhandled? Boyhandled?) the huge mattress, base, headboard and drawers out of the bungalow and into the garage.
We were sad to see the demise of the bed. All we could do, given the short notice of the decision for Dad to have a hospice bed, was put it in the garage. Our gardener agreed to take it to the tip as we knew from previous experience that the shelters for the homeless etc are rather fussy about beds and only ever take new ones! On impulse, however, I asked the gardener to wait one week and put it on the local ebay-equivalent as free to a good home. And I have to report, with great joy, that almost immediately I received a phone call from someone in desperate need of a bed, and excited at the prospect of collecting it tomorrow for their new home. Makes it feel really worthwhile.
Then came the moving bit. We'd thought replacing a double bed with a single bed would be an easy option. Easy? You wouldn't believe the fun and games we had once Mr Helpful had departed on his way and left us with this rather nifty automatic bed. It's longer than a normal bed! Problem 1) How to get the sheets to stay on. (Successfully negotiated with a bit of ingenuity and a catheter-bag-strap). Problem 2) How to get past the bed to the window without climbing over the chest of drawers. Less easily solved. I think we tried every single arrangement in the room, to little avail. Eventually we decided the best course of action would be to move the wardrobes. We emptied everything out of the two massive wardrobes and placed them on my sister's bed. Then we went to relocate the wardrobes. But the wardrobes were having nothing of it. They are big and solid and have nothing to grab hold of and there was no way, but no way, they were going ANYWHERE! We finally had to abandon that plan and refill them... whereupon one appeared to growl at my sister in a very Lion Witch and Wardrobe manner! But eventually the room was sorted and, with tired spirits and aching muscles, we stood in the room while Dad came in to inspect the finished article... and promptly fell asleep on the bed.
In other news, more has come to light about the theft of the money. I am over £200 down and it looks unlikely that I'll get much of it back... unless I press charges against Tiddles. Of course, this is just the time of year when you want to be £200 out of pocket. The missing trumpet has still not turned up and looks like having to be replaced. And despite the school's intervention, the intimidation of Smudgelet by a High School boy - and his gang of friends - has continued as my baby came home tonight with thorn marks and a footprint on his legs once again. It looks like I will have to make good my threat and contact the police with a view to bringing a charge of common assault. I have plans, though, to combine this with another small strategy. I am going to ask my friend if he will walk to meet Smudgelet off the bus next week. My friend has to stoop to enter my home, or even to stand in my lounge, and is an American Football player. Somehow I have a feeling that he may need do no more than meet Smudgelet off the bus. ;)
Me? I am still in a shell-shocked state as regards things. Tiddles keeps hugging me and saying he's really sorry (I know he's really sorry that he's in such a mess, but I have little hope - going on past experience - that this will actually make the blind bit of difference) and I just don't really want to know. I have reassured him that I love him and will stand by him, though not cover up for him, but that at the moment I just don't feel like hugging him very much as I feel hurt and betrayed. To which he replied "But we're still friends, aren't we, mummy?" What do you say? I mean, what do you say? I've always known this stage in his development and coming to terms with his life was inevitable... it's so common in adoption... but somehow I never quite realised how much my son he would have become by now and how much it would break my heart.
(I'd just like to say how proud I am of my wonderful family who are not only standing by me in all of this, but also standing by him. It's a testament to the niche he has carved for himself within our family but also shows great patience and understanding and love on their part. I'll also say yet again how amazing the support and prayer and practical help and love from my internet friends round the world has been. Mind blowing. Thank you)