The ages of man

What has four legs, then two, and finally three?

Or in Mum's case, six?

It's Mum.

I had a call from Mum's social worker today. Ann was of the same mind as us when she said it is time for mum to move into a home.

Maybe it is the curse of those who live to see their parent or parents live to their dotage, that we swap places and become adults?

I don't know, but that's how it feels.

Ann is preparing a list of care homes for Mum to look round, and maybe Mum will decide one to go to. But, Mum had failed to mention to Ann the equity release she has on the family home. A £thirty grand debt is now over seventy, and this fact means Mum's choices of possible homes is reduced, and the speed in which she can move is also changed. No longer will the council stump up the cash while the home is sold, most of that is now owed, so Mum will have to hope the council can find a place as a cheap but nice home.

If she decides to move. As no one can force Mum to move, if she doesn't want, and the council has to carry on supporting her there, no matter how hopeless things get.

Maybe, just maybe, the hopelessness of her situation has hit home; she listened, even turned the TV down.

There is nothing we can do. Nothing Ann can do. Nothing any amount of social workers, physios can do to make things better, just what Mum decides to do.

The lies, the pringles, the shortbread, the fags all come with a cost to be paid later.

When I said I don't think I'd see Mum again, I didn't think it might be this soon.

Her home will kill her if she's not careful, and is that worth a lifetime of memories? Maybe not.

Mum cannot now walk to the camode next to her chair unaided, let alone the bathroom. Such is her desperate position.

When the time comes, I will have to go up to clean her house out, and ask for the understanding of my employers to allow me time off.

Such is life.