That morning, the Old Man found his lansoprazole in the deep box. Then, when I told him to look for dispersible aspirin:
“Amlodipine?” — so he must have looked in the sandwich-box. Then he asked: “Co-codamol?”
Eventually he got it right.
When I told the Old Man that he was now going to take some tablets that could be found in the sandwich-box, at first he didn’t seem to understand what I was saying, and then he said as much.
“I can’t find any more.” — by which he meant that he couldn’t find the box of bendroflumethiazide. Then:
“Any more?” — clearly he had forgotten what he was looking for.
A new variant: “Levodyroxide.”
“Oh, [Deceased Lady’s name!], I don’t know what I’m doing.” Then:
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And he wanted to postpone taking his tablets until later in the day, as on 29 May.
He must have been looking in the deep box, because he found the dispersible aspirin and the lansoprazole.
Eventually he had managed to take his gliclazide, amlodipine, two co-codamol, and the dispersible aspirin. And finally he found the bendroflumethiazide.
“I’m fed up,” he said.
Having looked for the levothyroxine, he told me that he had found it and taken it. I’m not 100% sure that he had, though.
“Things are all wrong,” he complained.
I told him: “Don’t be negative, you’ll make yourself ill.”
When I phoned at 18:25, the Old Man sounded fine. He said he had had his tea. Then:
“I’ll be going to bed shortly.”
I replied that it was much too early for that. “Don’t go to bed!”
I told him that I would call him back.
At 19:25 he found it difficult to understand what I meant when I asked him to find the blue-top and red-top bottles (for the cod-liver oil and the multivitamin).
“I’m not with you,” he kept saying.
Then he couldn’t understand what I meant when I tried to check that the tablets he had got out were the correct ones.
Next he had difficulty finding the little box. I thought it might be on top of the china-cabinet, alongside the sandwich-box.
I asked him whether he had the lights on, or the curtains open.
“I’ve got the lights open.” [sic]
Clearly the box that the Old Man had picked up was the sandwich-box, not the little box, as it contained gliclazide tablets and amlodipine.
Finally he found the little box, and I got him to take out a simvastatin and swallow it.
He found the ferrous sulphate.
“What’s the time?” he asked.
“Ten to eight,” I replied.
“In the morning?”
He found the co-codamol.
I asked him where he was going to put the little box.
“On top of the china-cabinet.”
[Original posting 2 June 2011]