Saturday, 16 April 2011
Thinking things through
I was up early as I need to get a lot done today. I did some work on the short stories I started earlier this week. They’re now at the ‘almost ready’ stage. Hopefully they’ll be finished by Monday.
A man and his two dogs, a Labrador and a miniature dachshund, came to check me out at lunchtime. It seemed to go OK so hopefully that’s another booking for the summer.
After lunch, I set to work on the TV screenplay for the Club competition. It’s a hard slog – the entry instructions are three pages long. I’m wondering if many people will enter. If they don’t, and I can get my head round it, there’s a good chance of a prize.
Mum called at half past three, the first time I’ve heard from her since last Sunday. I told her that Social Services were going to take over her financial affairs because she no longer wanted me to do it. She denied issuing any instructions to the solicitor, she also denied going to a day centre twice a week. She even said she hadn’t seen a social worker for ages, and that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself.
I just repeated the facts. That Social Services had already applied to the court and that there was nothing I could do. I told her I’d employed a solicitor but that nobody would tell me what was going on. I know I’m wasting my time. I told her all this three weeks ago when it all blew up, and she said she’d talk to the solicitor, but she didn’t. How can she when five minutes after speaking to me she’s forgotten the entire conversation?
I have to remind myself that when Social Services DO take over, Mum probably won’t even realise.
I have no idea what she says to anyone else. For all I know she could be telling everyone how horrible I am. It wouldn’t be the first time.
This whole thing is making me paranoid. I feel as though I’m trapped in one of those movies where the whole world is plotting against you. It’s like my own version of The Truman Show – I’m the only one who has no idea what on earth is going on.
I spoke to a friend yesterday. Her advice was simple. Write to everyone involved, explaining what I’ve done – the solicitor, the dead end and so on. If I do that, I’ll also say this to the social workers, her solicitor, her carer and anyone else I can think of ‘as long as you’re happy that Mum isn’t being taken advantage of and that she gave instructions, whatever they may be, to her solicitor before the dementia set in, then I will accept that, and leave things as they are, but if there’s any chance that isn’t the case, it’s up to you to do something about it, as there’s nothing more I can do.’
Writing that, makes me feel like Pontius Pilate, but I don’t see any alternative. I’ll sleep on it and see what tomorrow brings.