My mother doesn't know it yet, but this is a bad week for her.

Yesterday the nurses started questioning the value (to whom?) of continuing my mother's Aricept treatment. Today another social service wheel fell off. Someone from Northern Beaches Community Care called on behalf of our case manager to notify me that Pauline has quit. Pauline is mum's careworker, and has been the best part of the social services received by my parents, and the only person who we felt actually did a better job that we could have done ourselves. No reason for her quitting was given; the news was coming fourth-hand as it was, so I didn't bother enquiring further. Tomorrow, when my father goes off to Day Care, a new careworker, Gail, will take Pauline's place. Questions are already lined up in my mind:
  • Will dad let Gail into the house?
  • Will mum accept her?
  • Will she be able to get mum to shower?
  • Will she take mum for an outing?
  • Will she leave sandwiches?
  • Will she be able to keep mum calm?
  • Will she be back next week?
I am working to an unforgiving deadline this week, and cannot afford to take time off, but the more I think about this the more it seems inevitable that if I want things to go well on the day and in future, I will have to go over tomorrow and be there in the morning when Gail arrives. I wish I had kept a detailed diary, then I would be able to see whether we are actually spending less time on mum and dad since we got the social services onboard. I have a feeling that we are not.

Losing Pauline is a real blow. I do not feel I am exaggerating the degree of loss she represents. Her ability to get mum to shower, on her very first visit, should be measured against the fact that Greg, Rachel and I had not even come close to achieving this goal, despite months of gentle persuasion.