I've been down to London to stay with Dad for a few days.
There was all the vacuuming, the washing, the shopping, the tidying up and the chivvying and the drugs and and and and........
Dad's tablets are in a little box set that's all set up for Morning, Afternoon, Evening, Night.
He gets confused by even that and often holds the box upside down or takes them from the next column along so either the Night tablets are taken in the morning or Tuesday mornings tablets follow Monday mornings tablets so he gets double the dose from them and can't understand why he doesn't feel very well and falls over.
Of course, he insists that he's taken them correctly and he will hear no criticism.
Saturday, I came down to find that the ticket machines in Victoria Station now do Oyster cards so I don't have to join the scrum outside - much less stressful.
And Sunday, Monday and Tuesday were spent trekking back and forth looking for things Dad can't see (that'll be nearly everything, then), opening the door to the fill-in carers who don't know about the key safe, opening the door to the district nurses who had a whale of a time on Monday trying to remove a cannula from Dad's arm.
He was in such a hurry to leave the hospital, that he left the hospital with the cannula still in his arm. With his levels of hygiene it was imperative to remove it ASAP. The district nurse (a giant African guy with a thick accent) was not happy at all and was threatening to complain to the hospital about it.
Good luck with that.
All the while, Dad cursed and tottered around repeatedly claiming "I'm not a fucking invalid!".
I still haven't told him I was made redundant.
Hopefully, I won't have to.
I got back late this evening and the first thing I did was start trawling the internet. I've found two more jobs to apply for on the NHS website.
Like I say. If it does all go belly up, it won't be for the want of trying.