Monday 25-10-10: Club Court

From 09:30 to about 11:45, I was in a meeting with E the social worker. She filled in a multi-page form, on the basis of information that I provided. Some of the pages simply did not apply to the Old Man’s situation. The Old Man’s case will be presented to a panel, probably on Wednesday 3 November 2010, but E herself will not be allowed to present the case. That will have to be done by her manager.

The Old Man’s weight, as of 14 (24?) October 2010, was 62 kilos. It had been 54.25 kilos on 24 August 2010, and 60.3 kilos on 7 October 2010. (I reflected that when he was living at home I should have paid more attention to his weight.)
I told E that on Saturday, the Old Man had said to me that he would like to go and see “the old house”. But on Sunday, it had become clear that he meant 33 Millpond Road, in Shoreville. (I did not tell her that, on Saturday, he had suggested that I ought to sell off the furniture. “I can’t live there with bare boards,” I had replied.)
At the end of our meeting, E went to fetch the Old Man, and we had a chat. He seems keen to stay in the kind of environment that Eastwood Priory provides.
I said goodbye to the Old Man in the dining-room, and also to M, who told me that he was having a medical that day, with a view to discharge. There was a third person, an old lady, at that table. The Old Man’s arrival at lunch had been delayed by meeting E and myself, and so he alone still had his plate on the table in front of him. He had eaten whatever meat had been served, but not much of the mashed potato or the beans. I urged him to finish the food, and put some on the fork for him, but he said: “I don’t like beans.”
After my own very late lunch, I went to assess Club Court, which is so near to the Old Man’s house that I could walk there and back.
The carer who opened the door was called A. I recognised her from somewhere, and she recognised me, but we could not remember where we had previously met. Where she lives is somewhere I don’t think I’ve ever been. She hasn’t worked at Twilight Towers.
My impression was favourable, more favourable than I had expected. The manager, Mr Chubb, looks nothing like I had imagined when I spoke with him by phone. Face-to-face, he comes across as friendly and informal rather than lackadaisical and offhand.
At 17:25 or so, Gill from St Griselda’s day centre (as she described it) phoned and asked for the Old Man. I explained his situation to her. She asked me to pass on to him the loving regards of the people at the day centre.
Early that evening, I spoke with Mrs CJ and told her about the bureaucracy I had encountered that morning. She commiserated. “Too many fingers in the pie,” she said.
On Tuesday 26 October 2010, Mr & Mrs CJ will be taking their grandsons to visit a museum.
Mrs CJ told me that her son-in-law Del may be interested in buying the Old Man’s house, as an investment.

[Original posting 25 October 2011]

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