Lamb burgers, Mediterranean vegetable, soft pitta
Today I have been wearing my favourite t-shirt, the one with a cartoon cat dressed as a video game knight, bearing the caption “I’m not procrastinating: I’m doing side quests”.
I mention this because today I finally went into the village to collect a prescription, a task I have been putting off for over a week. I did this not because I finally decided that it was time to complete this quest, but because we had run out of cat food and feeding Suki is of course the most important quest on any day.
The taxi driver who took me to the village saw mum for only a few seconds, as she bustled up the road – unaccompanied, on her own initiative – to say hello to neighbour, but even on that brief observation commented that she looks better – “something in her face just looks more alert”.
That it is so obvious even to a passing acquaintance says a lot about just how dramatic the change in mum has been. Tomorrow is the psychiatrist appointment, to get a second opinion on mum’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s, and I spent a chunk of today making notes to try and convey this to the psychiatrist. Tbh, even if the psychiatrist decides that the original diagnosis is correct, I will be fine with it as long as she officially approves keeping mum off the medication which I now think has played such a large part in reducing mum’s world.
Mum has been in serious discomfort from the lichen sclerosus today so, this afternoon, I offered to buy her a pair of jersey trousers, hoping these will be more comfortable than her usual jeans. I pulled up the Amazon website, showed mum some options, but she said she didn’t like any of them. Eventually I found a pair that got a “those will do, I suppose. Can I go and sit down now?”
The taxi driver commented this morning that, with mum’s drastic improvement, I wouldn’t need to move out. I laughed, because I’m still going, and this was a useful reminder that mum may be better, but she’s still mum. By which I mean she is self-absorbed, ungracious, and entirely lacking in gratitude. 🙄
For dinner I did a mum favourite, lamb burgers and Mediterranean veg. I put mine inside a soft pitta and pretended it was from a takeaway van at a festival. Mum had hers with salad.
For afters we had chocolate and pistachio buns, from Sainsbury’s, as that was where I bought the cat food. Mum is unhappy that there’s no ice cream to go with it (because she ate it all). I gave her my chocolate brownie ice cream, and she’s unhappy that it’s too hard.
I am now in my bedroom eating my bun – very sweet, nicely pistachio-y – and hiding both from Strictly and from Ms Ungrateful, wondering why the heck I even try to do anything nice for her.
And on that depressing note, goodnight.
