DEMENTIA CARE: STRUGGLING WITH NOTHING IN PARTICULAR.

A recent trip into town for tests went well.
   Underlying health trouble and routine checks join in a mighty battle to test blood...
   Only in cinemas. Rated Normal for the amount of hassle caused.

Details, details, details, and, oh, details. These are important. Ferrying a dementia sufferer into town in inclement weather is pretty much like landing someone on the moon.

   The fucking important part is ferrying the poor bastard back home safely.

   There was no real trouble here. The usual non-argument over clothing happened right at the start.

Wear your fleece.

   I'll be too warm in that fleece.

   It's fucking snowing outside.

   Maybe I should wear that fleece. (Struggles into fleece.)

   Here's your new waterproof jacket.

   (Already wearing the waterproof trousers.) Is this new?

   It's new.

   I had these waterproofs before.

The main fight is over gloves. Making sure they are worn. Any fiddling or fidgeting with the gloves is discouraged, because there can't be any fucking around with distractions while crossing roads.

   And that means ensuring the gloves are worn before leaving the bus for the street.

   Think ahead, think ahead, think ahead, think some more.

   Even so, there's an awkward moment caused by traffic rearranged by building work. No way around that. At least the gloves were on.

We stop to talk to familiar people. Most of them are familiar. I know not one person. And I know for a fact that one familiar person is definitely a stranger...

   When an elderly woman stops to talk to her pal, another elderly woman, and the second elderly woman clearly doesn't know the first elderly woman, you take your punch on the chin and roll with it.

   All I could do was escort, escort, escort...

   Looking ahead to the state of the pavement. Checking for cars. Watching the weather. I can't intercept every person, and shield them from an unexpected hello.

   So I don't do that. I listen to the tale of that girl across the street. Too far away to say hi to, this complete stranger is known.

   I know that girl.

   Clearly you don't. Let's try to keep this appointment.

   (No mention of that girl's name.) In we go, to the surgery. At least the patient remembers her own name, age, and date of birth. The receptionist is polite about the arrangements.

   Are you okay to go upstairs?

   This is a choice I can't make, as the patient can struggle upstairs if she wants to. She wants to. So up we go. After the epic battle to arrive on time, after talking to a whole bunch of people she knows, she sits and waits in the room full of chairs.

   I make sure we aren't late for appointments. The health service makes sure that we are rarely seen on time. I don't care. The penalty for missing an appointment is hassle. Luckily, the penalty for arriving early is mere boredom.

   And the only true hassle involves keeping those gloves on, as we head in for the appointment. The catastrophic consequence of dropping a glove could be a badly-mistimed thump from stepping into traffic to retrieve a woollen mitt.
   So, no, there'll be none of that. Heading to the appointment or coming away from it, the gloves are on.

I stay with the nurse for a minute, checking the strange details. There's an additional test arranged. But it isn't down on the list, now. What was said over the phone vanishes on the day.
   Further checking.

   Problem solved. A glucose test was left off, last time, in error. And that has been added to the list, this time around. But it took some digging to confirm the reasoning.

It's important to let the nurse get on with it, so I leave. This allows a spot of social interaction and chattiness that I'm not infringing on. Some carers fuss over every step of detail along the way. I don't need to be in the room for the blood sampling.
   Would you have interceded, to make the decision to bring the nurse downstairs?
   If I'd been told, that morning, my leg really hurts, or my back is sore, I'd have reconsidered. Adapt to circumstances. Don't force yourself onto circumstances and expect nothing to break. Stay fucking flexible.

   Out on the street, things are different. I must consider every step along the way. I have no choice. There, in the cold grey world, every step along the way could lead to a grim accident.
   Vehicle collisions, nasty falls, attempted muggings, and the arrival of Godzilla, are all watched for with a wary eye.
   I struggle along with nothing in particular. It's just a short trip by bus, and a walk to the surgery for tests. Snow keeps the crowds down, and works in our favour. No slips, no falls.
   At the bus stop, heading home into the warm and a rendezvous with hot soup, I think we made it. Did okay. I'm tense, in case I must deal with an emergency.
   The only accident in sight is an elderly gent she befriends. Turns out, she knows him. Coincidentally, he knows her. Their conversation is all about remember when.
   You couldn't tell she has dementia. Not based on that conversation. The chat continues aboard the bus. I'm forgotten, as she sits with the elderly gent and natters away to him.
   We stop at the lights. The driver opens the doors to talk to another bus driver about how fucking cold the buses are in this snowy weather.
   They'd be a damned sight warmer if you shut the fucking doors, you clown.
   Home. She takes the gloves off and asks me to feel her hands. They are like blocks of ice, even with gloved protection. We are in the warm, and soup is a short blast of heat away.
   I struggle with nothing in particular. Why? If something particular happens, I'm in a better position to deal with it. Our trip was uneventful. I stayed on the lookout, just the same.