jmgoyder

Yesterday, after writing about Anthony not coming home, not asking to come home, and sometimes not remembering home and/or thinking he is home in his nursing home room, guess what?

He asked to come home. Not once, not twice, but repeatedly throughout the late morning and early afternoon. I was so taken aback because this hasn’t happened for ages – maybe months – so I was a bit unprepared. He kept trying to get up from his armchair (he needs help to do so) and, every half hour or so, repeated, “Come on Jules, let’s go.”

Me: It’s too cold and wet today, Ants. Let’s wait until the weather is better.

Anthony: I can light a fire in the fireplace.

Me: We don’t have any kindling.

Anthony: I’ll chop some in no time.

Me: It’s a bit late in the day, today. What about tomorrow morning?

Anthony: You’re unreasonable (removing my hand from his).

Me: What? Are you angry with me now?

Anthony: I haven’t been home for months. You keep stopping me!

After a couple of repeats of the same conversation, more or less, I decided to end it by promising to pick him up at 10.30am today and bring him home. Once that was established, he reached for my hand again and we continued to watch the television and eat olives.

When I got home last night I wondered if this sudden relapse into homesickness (which was a two-year nightmare for both of us which I blogged about on and off) might have been triggered by my conversation with Anthony’s nephew the other day about the possibility of bringing Ants home for the day. In retrospect, I should have steered this conversation away from the topic of ‘home’ (especially within Anthony’s earshot), but I had no way of anticipating that the idea would somehow stick and re-emerge days later.

Okay, so today was when I was supposed to fulfil my promise to Anthony that I would pick him up at 10.30am and bring him home. This may sound callous but I had no intention of doing this, simply because I can’t physically manage him by myself; he is too heavy.

So I made myself wait until after lunch to go in and see Anthony. And I have to say that it was with a mixture of dread and curiosity that I entered his room (with my bunch of camellias).

To my great relief, it was immediately apparent that Anthony had forgotten yesterday’s ‘home’ conversation. Instead:

Anthony: I didn’t expect to see you! You are good at geography.

Me: Look at these camellias!

Anthony: You’re so early! (It was 1pm)

Me: How do you like my boots? (I was wearing colourful boots)

Anthony: A bit way out.

Me: How Dare you!

Anthony: Sit down and shut up.

Me: Don’t you tell me to shut up!

Anthony: Can you put that that that trolley up in my room? (pointing to his walker) – also that woollen coil (pointing to the blanket on his knees).

Me (putting walker into his bathroom and closing door, readjusting his knee blanket): Okay – are you warm enough?

Anthony: Yes.

Me: Right, so can you stop fussing about the stupid blanket? It’s just a blanket!

Anthony: Yes, but look at the little fella (there is always either a child or a pet on Anthony’s lap from around 4pm).

Me: Yes, it’s a beautiful sight, beautiful.

Anthony (after a bit of a slumber): Jules?

Me: Yes? I’m here, Ants.

Anthony: Can you roll me up?

Me: Do you mean put your feet down? (I had his feet up in the armchair) How’s that?

Anthony: Bloody beautiful.