Email from Mum (so apparently not urgent, at least, not by the standards of an 80 year old). Dad’s had double vision, fell over yesterday and cut his face and chipped his tooth (never does anything by halves. Still won’t tell us why there’s a chunk out of his nose…that’s been a mystery for about 4 years now). The nurse patched him up yesterday, but, apparently, didn’t enquire about double vision (why not?).
This morning he pootled to the GP about his sciatica, told her about the double vision (amazingly, remembered to tell her about the double vision: and listened to my Mother telling him to tell her about the double vision. Because, you know, forgetful and stubborn almost-77-year old). GP packs him off to hospital in an ambulance (this happens with alarming frequency. Both parents have had at least one trip to the hospital in an ambulance from the GP in the last year or so), worrying that his blood thinning medication has caused problems, and sending him for a scan.
Mum refuses to have me go up there, but did promise to phone various neighbours, whom I am sure will go round and have a cup of coffee with her for a bit. She can’t drive to hospital (all the dizziness has meant she’s not been out on her own for over a year), but will get a taxi if required. I’m generally persona non grata when Dad’s ill (not by choice…he just doesn’t like having me around if he’s not able to be the full protective Papa) so I’m sitting and trying not to fret.
Thing is, I’m not sure this isn’t the end of the beginning, as it were, and it’s just going to be an inexorable decline over the next couple of years. Which will suck mightily for all concerned, even if it is inevitable after 70-odd years of living life, and carousing more than is good for you. And I’m just not quite ready for that yet. Particularly given that there will be a requirement to be stoic and good tempered about it all. Because that, apparently, is how we roll in this family. Except when we don’t.