Italian grains and roasted Mediterranean veg

I usually try not toget involved in conversations between mum and visiting friends, as that hour or so is all the peace I get in a week. Sometimes, though, I have to intervene, as when I hear mum telling her friend “oh, I get these horrible headaches and the doctors just say there’s nothing they can do”.

I went into the front room and reminded mum of all the things doctors have done and continue to do to try and get her feeling better. Mum says, slightly huffily, “why didn’t I know any of this?”

Now I don’t blame mum for not remembering – that’s the nature of Alzheimer’s – but her default assumption that no-one’s helping and I’m not telling her things is deeply frustrating to deal with.

As is mum’s habit of scooping about two thirds of a meal onto her plate, then saying “you don’t mind, do you?” when I remind her it’s meant to be for both of us. I should be used to this by now, but somehow it always takes me aback to see half of my dinner disappearing, particularly when it then gets scraped into the food waste bin because mum took too much.

And that’s about it for today: short and vaguely sweet, because I’m very tired and feel like someone’s stabbing me in the foot. At least I’m physically feeling a bit better – the antibiotics are doing their job, even if they’re having an unfortunate effect in other ways (🚽) – and the flowers outside are lovely and sunny.

Now I must go and find something else to eat before I succumb to temptation and go and raid the biscuit stash, much to the resulting displeasure of my still-healing gallbladder.

See you tomorrow, all, and my sincere gratitude for all your support over what has been a very difficult week.