At 07:33 I told the Old Man to open the deep box.
He offered Normulen; I directed him again to the deep box.
He swallowed a lansoprazole, and dissolved a dispersible aspirin which I then told him to drink.
“Me drink it?”
“Who else?” I replied. He chuckled at this.
I told the Old Man to repack the deep box and put it away.
We moved on to the sandwich-box. The Old Man asked whether this was the one with the blue dots, then offered the box with the red dots.
He offered ferrous sulphate even though I hadn’t yet given him the name of any medication that he should search for. Then he found the sandwich-box and offered Normulen. I said yes. He took out a half-tablet of gliclazide, and, with much mumbling, he swallowed it — but I heard the tinkling of the spoon in the cup. I told him to put the cup away.
The Old Man found the bendroflumethiazide and swallowed a tablet.
“I should be dashing to the toilet, with the amount of water I drink.” I replied that he didn’t drink enough.
We moved on to amlodipine, but the name seemed unfamiliar to him. Then:
“Oh yes, amlodípine, 10 milligrams.” He swallowed a tablet of it.
“Levothyroxide.” He found the levothyroxine, and swallowed a tablet.
We moved on to co-codamol.
“Two? Good gracious me!” But then he only took one tablet out! I got him to swallow 2x co-codamol. I heard him cough, and he said:
“That’s a big un.”
I reminded him to eat some of the grapes that we had bought on Monday 5 July.
Our phone-call ended at 08:12.
I made contact with the Old Man early that evening. When I phoned again at 20:21, there was no reply.
At 20:40 he answered the phone, and I told him to find the blue-top and red-top bottles. After a pause of two minutes, the Old Man asked whether I meant the evening box. But he soon found the two bottles.
The Old Man laughed because he had been holding the phone handset upside-down.
He swallowed a cod-liver-oil capsule and a multivitamin.
We moved on to the evening box. The Old Man offered simvastatin before I’d given him the name of any medication — as per this morning.
He found the simvastatin and swallowed a tablet.
The Old Man asked how long he would be taking medication, and was surprised when I told him: “For life.”
We moved on to ferrous sulphate.
“Where does it go from?” — i.e. where should he look for it. He found it, and swallowed a tablet.
“It’s co-codamól, actually.” — the Old Man was correcting the name he thought I’d called it, but when I was conveniently able to ask him what he thought I’d said, the whole episode had faded from his mind.
He swallowed 2x co-codamol.
I signed off for the night at 21:01.
[Original posting 6 July 2011]