Mum fought through the early days of that first move in. It was tough for all of us but we'd found her the best place we could. Her own little suite where she could shut the door and call it her own, where staff checked on her and the meals are great. Except, problems came one after the other like a tsunami. Confusion at being moved doubled - a temporary occurrence thank goodness but one that had to be dealt with. So, week one I moved in for a few days to lend her the support it was clear she so desperately needed.
Day 1 in a Care Home
Day 2 in a Care Home
Mum's been the financial head of the household that once included the family farm, and she won't be fooled. So, when light is flooding under her door at midnight, she's concerned about what this might cost her. The issue comes up every hour on the hour through the night. I finally convince her that it is the hall light and the fact that the woman across the corridor has her light on and the door open. But, she's yet to believe that she's not going to be charged for the excessive use of power. And the next day, my short escape home for supper is interrupted as the care home calls - Mum is insisting on leaving and they fear they don't have the manpower to stop her.
I would laugh if it weren't so tragic. Mum used to be tall and strong. Now she is slightly shorter than me and when I take her hands in mine, she can't pull free. But she still gives the illusion of strength and her determination is legendary. So the night begins early as I head back to the home only to find Mum settled in her room with one of those fabulous staff members having taken charge and convincing her, for now, that this is home.
We go to bed early for I know the worst will come in the early hours of the morning starting from midnight on and there'll be no sleep after that. I'm sad as I tuck in those slippery sheets on that slick sofa thinking what has happened, how Mum's life has changed. But there's no choice, we need her safe.
Day 3 and 4 in a Care Home
Fast forward a few months and we're celebrating Mother's Day. Except mum doesn't feel much like celebrating. We're playing bingo and she wants nothing to do with it. She shoves the bingo card at me
repeatedly and gets crankier each time she does it. I'm guessing she fears she may have forgotten how to play and doesn't want to embarrass herself. So I take charge of the card and gamely play. However, I miss one key fact - it's blackout bingo. So when I call bingo and they bring over the prize, the laughs on me when we realize that there is no win. On the upside, my embarrassment was worth Mum's smile.
And the journey goes on...