Second Helpings

Just Another Day in Paradise

That phrase 'Sunday, sweet Sunday with nothing to do,' has always amused my cynical side as I don't remember the last Sunday I ever had to myself. Might say the same about the other six days for that matter.

I'd just finished washing my hair this morning, then popped my delectable meatloaf in the oven for Sunday dinner with Paul and family when the telephone rang. You know you're getting old when you sense bad news before you even pick up the receiver.

It was my Dad. Seemed Mum had a severe pain in her side and he thought she needed a doctor. Of course, doctors don't do Sundays, so after a series of phone calls and answering five hundred irrelevant questions an ambulance was sent out to their house. Off I went with wet hair, leaving a half cooked meatloaf, to sort out the latest crisis.

The paramedics were wonderful - they deserve top wages and medals for their work and patience, but it seemed another hospital trip was necessary. We followed the ambulance to hospital and I eventually located Mum in a cubicle performing amateur dramatics while the nurses took her temperature and a blood sample.

Meanwhile...hubby had problems parking the car, then got into a dispute with a dishy, young male nurse due to his brusque attitude. I never did locate him and apparently he then had a phone call from Mey Ling saying she needed to talk to him, so he b******d off to their house. Charming.

I've spent the afternoon in cubicles, two hours waiting on a corridor with Mum on a trolley, helping her on and off the bed onto a commode as nurses didn't seem to have time and listening to my stomach rumble, my parched throat croak and my brain telling me I can't cope with this lot much longer.

Eventually it's established Mum has some sort of bowel blockage, requiring suppositories and yet another two lots of medication to be taken daily. I point out to the nurse we now have two inhalers, three lots of eyes drops, two heart tablets to be taken three times a day and now two lots of laxatives to be taken by an 83 year old with dementia. Do they think I can live at their house?

Mum, sans teeth again, alternated between being sweet old lady declaring she loves me and asking do I love her, to cantankerous old bat demanding the loo, complaining about the noise and delay and wanting to go home. Outside the weather decided to join in the drama with the arrival of thunder, lightning and hailstorms.

Eventually the hospital decide to release her and have arranged for a district nurse to call tomorrow and a Social Service assessment yet again in the near future. Here we go again. I'm informed an ambulance may be available in two to five hours to take her home.

Meanwhile...Hubby has been called in as mediator between Mey Ling and Paul who are having marital debates. Excuse me, but they are supposedly adults and married against all advice, so in my humble opinion should be left to sort out their own mess. She's threatening to return to Cambodia and he's threatening to encourage her, but hubby just can't keep his nose out. I'm stuck at hospital with my complaining, confused and very fragile mother and he's at home feeding them my meatloaf. Charming.

At long last hubby arrives to take Mum home so after begging five times for a wheelchair, lifting Mum onto the commode yet again as no nurse is available I finally get to push her in a wheelchair through the corridors, out into the rain and lift her into the car. So much for our caring National Health Service.

I spend an hour in La La Land settling Mum, administering unblocking medication and sorting out their needs for next week, God willing. By the time I get home the volatile newlyweds have departed and I'm past caring whether I eat any of the remaining meatloaf or not. Cracking a can or five seems an easier option.

So that was my Sunday, sweet Sunday with nothing to do. How was yours?