He's got a hospital appointment for the Western Eye Hospital on the day after St Patrick's Day. Could I go down to London and go to the hospital with him?
I told him that I could. Watching the Monday job interview fluttering away in the breeze, I told him that I could travel down on Monday (17th March) and return on Thursday (20th March) and give him a bit of help around house, if he liked.
He told me that there was no need to move in.
The Stinky Old Bat has been taken to hospital (again) after she kept collapsing. She still hasn't returned after a few weeks in hospital.
She had been receiving personal care visits, home help visits, district nursing visits when she got her insulin shots, meals on wheels visits (1 meal a day), shopping visits and, intermittently home visits from paid companions for the blind. Everyone of them had their own set of keys.
After he'd called the ambulance and got her carted off, Dad celebrated by changing the locks.
The Social Workers aren't sneaking back her in without consulting with him first.
Legally, it's a kind of limbo. She's deteriorating fast, but can maintain a chipper, chatty, lucid 'front' which fools anyone with superficial contact. Although she receives many visits a day, she refuses all but medical help and all the 'carers' spend so little time with her, that not one of them have noted anything in the logbook that sits in her front room on a lace covered side table.
She has no living next of kin in this country, no one but an old friend (a former neighbour) has access to her money and that's third party access to her current account, not the Power of Attorney status that he needs to be of any use to the situation.
We (the Button family) are not next of kin to Stinky Old Bat and we have a vested financial interest in having her removed from the house.
It's worth more with her gone from there.
No one from Social Services is inclined to believe that we have anything but a financial motive when we say that she needs 24hr nursing care in a dedicated home, hospice or hospital.
It's safe to say that Dad has been waiting for this for over 30 years.
All good thing come to those who wait, I suppose, but what's worrying me is that the house is a verminous wreck and Dad is clearly very hopeful of getting 'top dollar' for it just as house prices are turning down.
And what's gone so wrong with his relationship with the two younger brothers that he's asking me to travel to London to accompany him to a hospital out-patients appointment?
He doesn't have a good or kind word to say about anybody - the GP I had him registered to doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about - MwK is doing the job Dad has had to abandon and he can't do a stroke without Dad effing and blinding about how shoddy the work is and how he's doing it all wrong - YMB doesn't know his arse from his elbow and never visits even though he only lives down the road - even Dad's surviving sister and her children get abuse - how she keeps interfering, how they were raised, their choices of partners ..... and on and on and on.
What's gone so wrong?
Whether I like it or not, I'm going to find out.