Honey-mustard glazed cocktail sausages, parmentier potatoes, salad

Today we went over to the hospital for mum’s latest appointment with the rheumatologist.

In the taxi over there, I swear the conversation went:

Mum: “There used to be a lady I knew who lived round here. I haven’t seen her in ages, why haven’t I seen her?”

Me: “I’m going to invite her over for a cup of tea next week.”

Mum: “good, because my teeth really are hurting.”

Me, pivoting with the change of topic: “well, we’re seeing the doctor soon.”

Mum: “it’s just that I’ve got something in my eye, it’s really sore.”

Me, pivoting again: “they’re probably just dry, you can use some eye drops when we get home.”

Mum: “it’s just that my mouth is sore, and it seems no-one wants to help.”

Me, starting to feel dizzy from all the pivoting: “you’ve got mouthwash that you use every…”

Mum, interrupting: “it’s just that I’ve got this horrible headache, and, and, and…”

Me, giving up: “mm”.

Mum, realising she lost my attention: “I really do love you, you know.”

Me: “thank you. I love you too.”

Mum: “it’s just that my teeth really hurt, and, and, and…”

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The appointment with the consultant was definitely interesting. He still hasn’t received the results of mum’s CT scan, which the appointment was meant to be about. He’s going to send them a rather pointed email to ask where the results have got to.

He was also profoundly unimpressed by the dentists who have failed to find any sign of the inflammation which is apparently clearly visible on an x-ray (which they have seen). He strongly recommended that we find another practice and ask for a second opinion, so if anyone on the Island can recommend a good practice, I would be very grateful.

The conclusion of the appointment was that mum’s daily dose of steroids is going to be slowly reduced over the coming months, and see where that leaves us. Mum has, having had so much attention paid to her teeth, now fixated on the subject to the exclusion of anything else.

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After all that, with the muscles in my feet twitching with over-exertion, I wasn’t in the mood to do much of anything except sit on the bed with my snuggle-puss Suki. Sadly dinner needed to be cooked (oh, takeaways, how I miss you!), so I had to get up and do food.

Thankfully groceries were delivered today, so all I needed to do was pour the potatoes onto a baking tray and put them in the oven then, 20 minutes or so later, add the pre-cooked cocktail sausages which had been coated in equal quantities of honey and wholegrain mustard and heat those through.

Mum gave it a pre-emptive “yum!” and cleared her plate, before diving into the many sweet things included in the grocery delivery. Sadly, this apparently included “too many” tubs of the coffee ice cream she has previously complained extensively that we didn’t have enough of.

Some days – indeed, most days – I just can’t win.