I'm not so stupid.
This time I checked the library before going to dad's flat.
Good move as it turned out cos there he was. Same light summer jacket but at least it's warm and dry today.
He had a new dressing on his head and I found some notes at his flat from the district nurse.
Result? Not quite as it turns out. The dressing on his elbow hadn't been touched. I tried to take it off but bottled out again as it was sticking to the wound.
Bah! Will have to phone them yet again. Knowing how these things go, what's the likelihood of them coming while he's in the library?
There was a letter there saying he has an appointment at a Falls Clinic for an assessment.
Where did that come from?
On the plus side, it said he'd be there for a full day but they'd arranged transport.
On the minus side, there were various aspects that were unclear to me, let alone him.
Will phone them and find out so I can explain it to him and leave an appropriate daft-old-bugger note.
Thing is, my number's on just about everything connected to him, so why didn't anyone phone me to let me know this was being arranged?
On Monday I'd switched his heating on and left a note on the switch.
'It's getting cold. Keep heating on or face the wrath of the daughter.'
It was off today, of course.
A conversation about people going on holiday without insurance:
Dad: Well of course that's really foolish ...
Me: You can bloody talk. Look what happened last time you went away.
Dad: Ah yes, I remember. I came home early.
Me: No you didn't. You came home late! Alan (my brother) went to bring you back.
Dad: Really? Why? What was wrong with me?
Me: (Taps chest. Don't want to remind him of that terrible time last year when he was rushed to hospital and had 2 emergency stent operations before anyone so much as got round to contacting me to tell me.)
Dad: What, heart? Nonsense. I've never ever had any problems with my heart.
I got back in time to pick up LG and had a conversation with a woman in a similar position, except her father's in a residential home just up the road.
It seems she and I are a recognised phenomenon.
We even have a name: 'sandwich carers'. Not because we make lunches (though we do) but because we're sandwiched between the needs of children and parents.
In the news this week: people in the 100+ bracket are in the largest growing age category.
Hope society gets its act together to take proper care of our elders before we ourselves become the bread instead of the filling.