Despite being told Monday that Mum wasn’t ‘medically fit’ to be discharged, we had a phone call Wednesday asking us to attend a Medical Discharge meeting on Friday afternoon. We arrived an hour early, so we could visit with Mum. Once again, she was all packed up, ready to go. She is on a different ward, again. This is the third ward she’s been on, and even within the same ward, she had moved rooms. By my estimation, she’s been in at least 5 different rooms/wards. Is this any way to treat a dementia patient? I asked her doctor how she was now medically fit and was advised that her blood tests have been normal for the past week, so no more infection. We were also advised that the meeting wasn’t today, but in 2 weeks’ time. Apparently, it’s the same social worker, but because Mum had been moved, the meeting was also moved. How nice of the social worker to tell us this! We made a quick phone call to others in the family to tell them not to come in, then sat with Mum who was in good spirits though miffed at not going home yet.

We have to talk about whether Mum goes home or into a care home, depending on what support, if any, we can get from the hospital. Physically, I doubt her carer will be able to cope as although Mum can walk a little, she can’t get in or out of bed without help. She’s lost a lot of weight, however she’s still a big woman, and is tall too. The house has a downstairs loo, and a stairlift, but I’m not sure it’s enough. The other option is for her carer (my niece), to move out though goodness knows where she and he friend will go. We can then sell the house to pay for her care. Under our ‘caring’ government, if you have property and need care, you have to sell the house to pay for the care. Although home ownership means stability, I’m often glad I don’t have a house anymore. I don’t have a lot of money either, so when I am old and possibly need care, at least I can find a suicide booth and save everyone the trouble. Oh wait, they only exist in Futurama…

Still no joy on the rental front and my landlord is giving me a hard time – I refuse to call him ‘friend’ anymore. We had an agreed leave date, though this wasn’t written in stone and with my Mum in hospital, and my Dad having died late February, I had hoped he would be more understanding of my plight. Not so. Me not moving yet is giving him ‘major problems.’ I’m sure Dad wouldn’t have died just yet if he’d known it would give someone major problems. He has suggested I get rid of the dog to make it easier to get a rental. His own dad died a while ago and I was the only one who sent a sympathy card (I didn’t get one btw). His pet dog also died a while back and he was distraught. Empathy? Not for me!

My son has described the landlord as having as much empathy as a squirrel on cocaine. That made me smile. He also stayed up late checking out houses and has emailed 6 to ask if they’ll allow the dog. I have 6 more to phone Saturday – free calls on the weekend. We have to lower our expectations, just to get out of here, and may have to move again once we’re in the area. All expense, but I do need to get out of here.

I collected my meds this week. There was an initial mistake in the amount I was supposed to have, however that was all sorted by Friday and I have a good backup now in case it takes me a while to get sorted with a new GP once I move. There was something on the news about people in Wales having issues accessing their GP and I had to wait more than 3 weeks for my appointment. I also live in the most congested part of Wales, couldn’t find a part time job, pay far too much council tax… I’ve even considered asking to move in with ex Mum in law, but she’d be terrified of the dog. She’s a small woman and he could knock her over without even meaning to, and her house is a long way from the campus. I even suggested we buy an old RV and park on her drive. My son wasn’t keen…

Fingers crossed and positive thoughts please; I really need some good vibes about now. Thanks. Have a good weekend.