Marianne Talbot with her mother My hopes are dashed. Tim and Poppy have decided they can't take Fatcat. I'm stuck with her. Oh well, at least it has pushed me into taking her to the vet. Her claws are so long she can't move without announcing her whereabouts. This warns poor Oedipus she is coming, so he can remove himself from the range of her nasty swipes. But it'd be cruel to allow it to continue.
Mum is still in wonderful spirits. It is liberating to go in and find her teasing the nurses, or good-naturedly chattering animated nonsense to the old lady sleeping next to her. I go away completely guilt-free, indeed positively feeling good about her. To think that six months ago mum was begging me to help her die.
Now my biggest problem is what to do about her constant need for handkerchiefs, and what I can take to her that will give her pleasure.
The former is not really a problem I suppose. Not for me anyway. When mum needs to blow her nose, which is frequently (she always said this is a sign of good health), she just uses whatever she is wearing, the tablecloth, or a napkin. As all these things go straight to the laundry at the end of the day, so what's the problem?
Well, every time mum hikes up her jumper and blows her nose on it I cringe. It's even worse when she uses the jumper of the person next to her.
When she went into the home I supplied her with handkerchiefs by the dozen. But they've all disappeared. I took another lot recently. But mum has forgotten what they are for. Anyway the carers have better things to do than find mum's handkerchiefs. It is pointless to replace them again.
It's a shame. I like taking mum presents, and at least in replacing the handkerchiefs, and the other things that go missing, I can pretend. But I do not feel that I am giving her a treat: mum shows not the slightest interest in them.
Taking her flowers or plants has become equally pointless. If they register with her at all it is not obviously with pleasure. Mum has become oblivious to the finer things of life.
I can, of course, give mum a hug or a conversation but there is only one concrete thing I can take her that will make an impact: something sweet.
Mum never had a sweet tooth. Now she devours anything sugary. But by indulging myself in taking her such things I am merely hastening the day when all her teeth will have to come out.