We lunched with Mum in the communal dining room yesterday. That was a bit of an experience…
I had phoned ahead to request extra meals which is a lovely service that the care facility provides. For nine dollars we got a two course meal of roast beef, vegetables and gravy; custard and sponge for dessert. It was exactly what the residents were having, (well except for the pureeing and mashing) and it was delicious, so it is great to know that they are being served tasty, well cooked and nutritious meals.
We were seated at a small corner table with Mum (when I say we, I mean Daughter1 and I), but somehow managed to be the centre of attention for the dining room.
There were about 11 other residents (the poor man in the room across from Mum’s that called out during previous visits has since passed away) in various states of coherence, and so it was a thrilling room to play.
A man at an adjoining table was mumbling away and Mum kept thinking he was saying something she needed to respond to, “What? What’s he saying?” until I politely explained he wasn’t actually speaking to her. I don’t think she believed me, perhaps she preferred his conversation to mine. I was trying to be upbeat and chatty, repeating the same conversation over every 8 minutes as she appeared to only retain it that length of time, but I sensed her attention was not mine.
Then the matron came over and placed an extra spoon in front of Mum, for reasons known only to her, and Mum’s slight paranoia came to the fore and she decided that I had been colluding with the Matron to get her an extra spoon! I had been sitting next to Mum the entire time and so how she thought I had achieved that I am not sure! Secret spoon code perhaps?
So, my diabolical plot to equip Mum with two dessert spoons exposed, Mum decided it was time I met the audience, and so announced loud enough for everyone to hear “I don’t suppose you know these people?” Ah no. So all eyes on us now (well the eyes of those who could still hear), she introduces us as her sisters. SISTERS. And not one person blinked an eye. In fact, I actually noted two nodding their heads in agreement as though it was entirely possible that I was my 85 year old mother’s sister.
I don’t care if they are all old, feeble and demented; they are going down on the stick list for that one. Double laxatives all around.