Two things happened yesterday evening: we failed to complete Dad’s coronavirus test procedure because Dad misplaced the piece of paper with the required barcodes on it (or it never arrived) and I got a second letter from the Welsh authorities extending my recommendation to stay at home until 15 June, and possibly even longer (I’m a highly vulnerable person due to taking immunosuppressants for arthritis).
I’d been relying on Dad’s test result as extra confirmation that it’s safe to enter his house. Despite Mum’s death from the virus, Dad has a somewhat cavalier attitude and dismisses the likelihood of him having covid-19 even though he’s had a persistent cough and symptoms since he was in contact with Mum. I’m convinced he’s had a mild form of covid-19 that he caught from Mum and believe this is the only safe assumption to make.
Needless to say, socially isolated Happy Hour didn’t live up to its name last night as I watched Dad fruitlessly hunting round for the paper with the test bar codes through the conservatory window with increasing dismay and we both got quite upset.
As he would have had to take the test after 9 pm and before 7 am this morning, it’s pointless asking the carers to help either.
This is so frustrating, particularly as we get ready to attend Mum’s funeral and take Dad out into the outside world.
I’m very uneasy about the logistics of the funeral. Richard is coming from Scotland with Michael and Jeni, but they’ll be arriving via an overnight stay at cousin Debbie’s B&B in Yorkshire just in time for the funeral and driving back to Scotland the same night. Leon and Lily are driving up and down from Cardiff the same day too. It’ll be quite a bleak affair without any time to chat afterwards.
One of the bereaved people I chatted to on my dog walk yesterday told me that only two people attended his father-in-law’s funeral as he didn’t want to make anyone else enter the “toxic atmosphere” of the crematorium.
I know things will change, but yesterday I really felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. People keep telling me I’m doing a wonderful job, but I can’t really give Dad the help he needs. The truth is that nobody can do anything useful under these circumstances.
2022 and all that 