It’s been a while since I’ve written anything here about her. She appears to be a medical marvel, seemingly all but dead one day and alive and feisty the next.
I haven’t seen her as much as I should do, but my folks go a couple of times a week, and my auntie in Ireland telephones the care home every day. So they’re all doing that they can. She always has visitors too, her best friend, the parish priest goes every day and her friends from the parish all visit.
My mum raised some concerns regarding the clawing of my auntie’s left hand, how the way she’s been lying has caused one of her legs to twist which is painful when anyone tries to move it. She had been promised physiotherapy when she moved into the home. As far as we can see (and my folks have been told), she has had none. My sister in law runs a care home and knows the ins and outs of what should and shouldn’t be happening. We have a right to see my auntie’s care plan, so my ma asked for it only to be told that we were not allowed because my cousin had said so. The same cousin who has put her house on the market, more than likely dumped her personal possessions, had bought her no clothing for when she moved into the home. The one who FORCED her into that home (He did. She told us so). He’s the kind of person who threatens to beat up an OAP (my dad), the kind of man who uses his mother’s illness to get his own way when things appear to go against him, or anyone dares to complain about the way he has carried himself throughout this whole sorry affair; the threats of violence, the threats to bar anyone and everyone from visiting his mother when anyone questions his actions.
And if this little frail old lady knew any of the shit going on, she’d be terribly embarrassed and ashamed. It isn’t her fault, obviously. None of this is her fault. So we try to continue on, ignoring him and his threats, too frightened to seek advice from Social Services or a Solicitor because if he finds out, he might bar us from seeing her. If he does that, he may as well just put a pillow over her face right now. She brightens when she has visitors; she’s genuinely touched when people go to see her, that they took time out of their day to bother with her. She’s a lady. And he’s a bully.
I spoke to my ma on Friday evening. They’d been to see her that day. My ma just broke down in tears on the ‘phone. She’s frustrated and angry and tired; both her and my da are. They’re at a loss as to what to do next. I told them they’re doing the best that they can, and visiting her whenever they can. They’re giving her the love that she so desperately needs, they’re giving her the fire and the fight, their rallying words inspire her. But they really are stuck.