Chicken strips, dauphinoise potatoes, sweetcorn

Today started much like every other day recently. Mum complained of a headache, refused painkillers, changed her mind abd accepted the painkillers then sulked because I couldn’t give them to her immediately because I was getting dressed, refused them again, changed her mind again and accepted them but only when she was ready, complained of urinary frequency, complained of stomachache, complained of soreness, complained of a headache…

It’s no wonder I wake up every morning with a feeling of dread, even with Suki purring in my arms.

I managed to sneak into the kitchen to make some phone calls: I confirmed that a doctor would be calling, confirmed today’s flat viewing, and discovered that another flat isn’t suitable, although the agent is lovely (and I hope he found his missing keys that he was hunting for when I called!).

When I came out of the kitchen, mum complained (such a novelty!) that I had “disappeared”, and said that she “can’t cope with anything”, which I think is the root of most of her problems. It clearly isn’t something that I am in a position to solve, and it seems doctors aren’t keen to try either, as when the GP called she declined to assist with anything other than a new prescription for steroid cream for the lichen sclerosus. Mum’s constant pain, her frequent refusal to take medication or eat food, her low mood, my position at breaking point – illustrated by sobbing that I could no longer cope – was pushed back to “let’s solve this first”.

Thankfully this afternoon I had the flat viewing over in Cowes, although mum made every attempt to guilt-trip me into not going: she just wanted to be with me, I didn’t love her, why was I abandoning her?

The drive over was very pleasant, with a friendly taxi driver who was happy to chat about gardening, wildlife, cats, and cars. As soon as I looked at the flat I realised that it wasn’t going to be suitable: Cowes is quite hilly, so it’s six steps from the pavement down to the building, then another two steps back up to the front door.

On a good day, like today, I could manage the steps, but on a bad day I would be pretty much trapped in the flat. It’s a shame, as the flat itself was nice, with a lovely view of the Solent from the kitchen, but it clearly wasn’t right for me.

Then I spent the wait for my taxi home trying to coax a lovely old orange cat to come and say hello to me. They looked at me. They sauntered then trotted towards me, maowing the whole way then, at the very last moment, swerved just out of my reach to fall down and roll around adorably in the road. Then they repeated the routine in the opposite direction, again carefully staying two to three inches beyond my reach.

It’s a good thing cats are so gorgeous, as they can be right little trolls at times!

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Dinner was nice and easy: frozen breaded chicken strips (nice and crunchy outside, like sawdust inside), potato dauphinoise (delicious), and sweetcorn. Mum didn’t take much but cleared her plate, then had some trifle for dessert. And that, I think, is as good as I’m going to get.

Tomorrow I’m viewing another flat, this one in Freshwater, then will have time for a quick cup of coffee in a nearby café before returning home and waiting desperately for Lady Friday to arrive and give me a much-needed, if all too short, break.

And so we go on.