At 07:30 I asked the Old Man how he was.
I asked whether he’d had breakfast; first he said “Yes”, and then “No”.
He couldn’t find the deep box.
“BLEKE, I can’t think!”
“There’s nothing in it [i.e. the deep box].”
I told him to look in the sandwich-box. He offered simvastatin, and insisted that he had found it in the sandwich-box.
He (allegedly!) found the dispersible aspirin. I heard him stirring the water in which he had dissolved whatever it was.
He couldn’t find the Normulen box, or the bendroflumethiazide. He offered dispersible aspirin, simvastatin, ferrous sulphate — so he must have been looking in the wrong box.
He found the co-codamol. I told him to take two tablets, and he did.
He said he’d found the sandwich-box — but it was the little box. He found the bendroflumethiazide, and swallowed a tablet.
“Formulen?” he asked. He couldn’t find it.
“Is that it?” — i.e. was the session over. It wasn’t.
He took an amlodipine.
“I’m fed up.”
He took a levothyroxine.
“It’s only a little tidger,” he said, about the levothyroxine.
He had one final look for the Normulen box. He offered amlodipine, with the stress on the correct syllable.
The Old Man said that he would keep on looking for the Normulen / gliclazide, and take one if he found it.
At teatime and in the evening, the Old Man was sleepy. He had teacakes for tea.
It was hard for me to determine whether he’d taken the cod-liver-oil and the multivitamin out of the blue-top and red-top bottles. Then he offered amlodipine. He just didn’t seem to understand what I meant about taking the capsule / tablet out of the blue-top / red-top. (Twice he claimed to have taken them out of the respective bottles, but when I tried to check the description of these tablets, he became evasive or angry.)
The Old Man rang off. I rang back.
He still seemed uncomprehending and truculent.
“Don’t try to be clever.”
After a few moments more, he rang off again.
His phone was engaged when I rang back.
[Original posting 16 June 2011]