The small stuff

The other day, my daughter was looking at me trying to sort bills & organise a schedule for my Mum who has Alzheimer's, and she said "It's crazy how it falls to you to do this for Grandma when in fact you could do with a helper yourself."

And we laughed, but she is correct. I have a major executive function disorder, inattentive ADHD, and only just manage my own sh_t. Now I have Mum's too. But hey, that's life, often not an easy ride.

The tragedy of it is that Mum was so goddam organised and efficient. She was a casualty nurse in the 1950s, a health visitor through the 1960s, a college lecturer through the 1970s and 1980s. Even with progressing dementia, her house is still cleaner and neater than mine has ever been or will be. She can still clean, still keep the house in order. But arrangements, bills, appointments, scheduling - that has gone.

Yesterday I was at work and my phone kept ringing. Each time I answered Mum's confused voice said "Hello?" She was trying to make an appointment at the hairdresser's. "I AM dialling their number! I have no idea why I am getting you!"

So anyway, I've had to write off this weekend to try and get quite a few things sorted out. The hairdresser's, the opticians, and God knows when Mum last had a dentist visit - I will try to find out. I also should look into trying to get some sort of carer's parking ticket for the car. It's a residents parking zone at here and I only have daily tickets which I keep forgetting to replace when I stay overnight. Just paid a £50 fine because of that. Also Mum's watch strap is broken and not being able to wear a watch is upsetting her. Wasn't there once a book called "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff?" I do nothing but sweat the small stuff. But the small stuff doesn't take care of itself.

Back in my own house, water is leaking through the bathroom ceiling each time someone uses the shower, and the back door lock is jammed locked. Only my son is there. I've told him to use the front door, and get washed at the sink.