It means arranging a great deal over the internet. Also, taking advantage of schemes to obtain repeat prescriptions more easily.
And it means hanging around the home. Unless I have to physically go somewhere. Jet-packs, unicorns, and teleporters are all beyond reach.
The level of dementia I cope with, as a sweary carer, is still reasonable. I can explain where I am going, how long for, and why. And I can leave a confused elderly lady to watch a movie while I am gone.
She can follow a film, but don't ask her to work a DVD player. In truth, she wasn't great at working the DVD before dementia kicked in.
When I return, there may be questions about where I've been. But I can go off to a dental appointment knowing she's okay in the house alone.
That raises a point. What if she's not okay in the house, alone? I deal with that when I come back. If I come back.
Because that raises another point. What if I'm out in the rain, and a rogue elephant tramples me?
Well, I'll be fucking surprised for a start.
I went out in the rain to take care of a repeat prescription. Then I carried on to town for a bit of shopping that was convenient to cover there and then.
If you are tied to a location and must leave it, invent extra business for yourself and kill a flock of birds with one stone.
Walking in the rain is great. A bit of exercise. Time to ponder things. Like the rule. It's a harsh rule.
If something bad happens while I am away, I won't cripple my life by blaming myself. That bad thing might've happened while I was in the house, after all.
There's no way to know. Don't beat yourself up over an imaginary threat. Get on with getting on. Walk in the rain.
Go to a different shop. Find that bar of chocolate the supermarket doesn't deliver. Buy that for yourself and for the confused person who really liked it all those years ago.
There weren't any rogue elephants while I was out and about. It's the wrong time of year for those, of course.
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