Bacon, garlic butter new potatoes, salad
I didn’t sleep well last night, the neuro pain in my feet flaring up to reignite the old feeling of having leaned against a hot oven shelf. Mum calling to ask if I was OK every time she went to the loo didn’t help, either.
This morning, I woke up wrapped around my tabby teddy bear, and stayed there until my bladder threatened revolt if I ignored it much longer. That done, and Suki fed, I called the GP surgery to get myself on the call-back list, then went through the current standard routine of mum lying in bed, complaining of pain while stubbornly refusing pain relief.
Mid-morning, I carried mum’s tablets into her darkened bedroom and, while I was there, scooped up a few items to take to the kitchen for washing up. “Don’t you like me anymore?” came the call from behind me, for reasons that escaped me.
Then I waited for the GP to call, nursing my low mood and exhaustion in the privacy of my room. But instead of a call, I got a text to say they had issued my repeat medication and “hope this resolves my concerns”. I immediately called and tried to get them to understand that no, it didn’t resolve my concerns, and I actually wanted to speak to somebody. They really struggled with that concept: was I sure I didn’t just want more of my regular medication?
Eventually they agreed to re-add me to the call-back list with a note that “the patient is not happy with the response given”. That rather missed the point, but it got someone to talk to me, so I accepted it.
The paramedic who called was very helpful, doubling my daily dose of antidepressants, referring me to the surgery’s mental health specialist, and telling me to make sure Social Services really understand how difficult things are for me atm.
Phone call done, mum decided that she was starving – having refused to eat all day – and asked over and over if she was going to get food today. Eventually, after about the dozenth repetition, I realised that mum was laughing at me every time I said “dinner will be at the usual time”. Was she actually hungry, or just enjoying baiting me? I don’t know, but I have my suspicions!
Dinner was a long way from inspired: new potatoes in garlic butter, bacon that needed using, and salad. Within a couple of minutes of going into the kitchen, mum was demanding to know “isn’t it ready yet?”
It’s been a long and difficult day. I suspect tomorrow will be equally long and just as difficult. At least it will almost certainly still include a tabby teddy bear, so things could be at least a little worse.
