The Old Man sounded brighter, right from the first words he spoke.
Our morning medication session went smoothly until the Old Man tried to get out the lansoprazole instead of the levothyroxine. Then he couldn’t find the levothyroxine. His voice started to sound tired and slurred.
“It’s no good just skimming over the top [i.e. of the contents of the sandwich-box],” I told him. “You could do that all day.”
The Old Man said he’d found the levothyroxine buried part-way down.
In the middle of the day, he told me that he had gone upstairs and had fallen asleep on the bed — this was why I had got no response when I had phoned him earlier.
At 20:45 the Old Man seemed disoriented. He told me he had been watching the final of the Champions League, but “it’s changed” — which I took to be a reference to the commercial break at half-time. He hadn’t had his tea yet, and claimed that this was because he didn’t know what the time was. He thought his watch was about two hours slow.
But he found the ferrous sulphate very quickly!
Once he had mustered all his evening medication, he couldn’t find his bottle of water, and so he went to the kitchen to get a cupful.
At the end of our conversation, before he supposedly went off to prepare his belated tea, he used the expression:
“…I’ve eated…” [sic]
At 21:25 he still hadn’t gone to prepare his tea.
At 21:54, finally, he told me that he’d had a cup of tea and a teacake. He sounded sleepy, and I told him to go to bed. (He had taken a long time to answer the phone on this last call of the day.)
[Original posting 22 May 2011]