Second Helpings

Oh Dear

Oh Dear. Oh Dear. Oh Dear. I seem to be sighing and saying Oh Dear a lot. It doesn't solve anything or make me feel any better but it just keeps on happening. I wake up with Oh Dear on the tip of my tongue and go to sleep with Oh Dear rambling through my troubled thoughts.

I guess it's what happens when worry is constant and there are no obvious solutions. Sometimes I think I'll be saying Oh Dear for the rest of my days.

My Mum hasn't settled too well from her hospital ordeal and is very disorientated and confused. I'm not sure she even knows where she is any more. There are some worrying physical problems the medical profession seem to have failed to acknowledge and even though tests were carried out on her mental capacity, no help or advice has been offered. I cannot be at their house all the time to supervise food, medication, toileting and care, but it seems without paying for help, nothing is available to ease the situation. But not being there doesn't relieve the anxiety and fears for the future that live with me every hour of every day. Oh Dear.

Sis thinks it's time we looked at care home options but what I've seen and heard of those I don't think it would be advantageous. The care seems very hit and miss and I don't want Mum to be surrounded by strangers and unfamiliar routines. It would be too distressing for us all I'm sure, but obviously things are only going to get worse, so what is to be done? Oh Dear.

Dad had his check up on his pacemaker this morning and there's some concern about it being too near the surface of his skin. Should he develop any redness or sore spots, we have to take him straight to hospital. He's struggling coping with everyday life and the added pressure of Mum the way she is. Moving them to sheltered accommodation might ease things a little, but how do you uproot and move two stubborn octogenerians who are set in their ways? Oh Dear.

I've just returned from the dentist yet again. It seems like the Middle East there is no solution to my tooth problem that doesn't cost an arm and a leg or guarantee success, so for the moment it's stalemate. Oh Dear.

Son and family will be moving house next weekend nearer to Paul's job. This will distance them further from us, which isn't a bad thing in some ways. But with Mey Ling's disabilities, language and social limitations, a toddler and a baby on the way (It's a grandson by the way) I can't help worrying how they'll cope. Oh Dear.

Worrying never solved anything I know and I try very hard not to indulge in it too much or offload on others who have their own troubles to contend with. But I don't seem to have much control over anything, even this involuntary sighing and the lack of ability to stop saying Oh Dear.

Oh Dear.