The only thing I was certain of is that, now that Dad had passed, I knew there was definitely a space available in the care home for Mum.
In the month before Dad passed it had become increasingly clear that it was no longer safe for Mum to be at home as there’d been a string of unfortunate events, culminating with her accidentally flooding the house.
I needed help, but there was a huge wait list for home care services and no local spaces available for a place in a residential home.
Despite my mum being diagnosed first, Dad’s health deteriorated much quicker and he soon required a lot of hands-on support.
We managed to make do for a while in between sporadic visits from independent carers and trips to the local day centre under the guise that mum was ‘volunteering to support elderly people in the community’ – this lie was the only way to get her to go.
