15th June 2008 - Father's Day and MoonWalk

I did the Edinburgh Half Moon walk so I was very tired. The worst thing about the walk is the time. It would be a dawdle - literally - to do it in the day, but at midnight it totally knackers your body clock for a couple of days. Fathers Day was on the sunday of the walk and I could have not visited but I felt bad, so in I dragged my weary carcass on it's blistered feet.

Dad was sleeping when I went in and he found it difficult to stay awake for long. He didn't seem to be able to grasp the idea of Father's Day, he didn't know what to do with his cards or his present.

One of the more recent residents was being very difficult today. Francine took the brunt of it. He wanted a cigarette, but there was no staff available to take him for one. They seems to be short staffed again because it was only Francine doing the teas and coffees, with no-one else around. She'd reached the horseshoe of chairs that sleeping Dad and I were in and was blocking the open end with the trolley as she dished out the hot drinks. She was - reasonably politely - telling Bobby that he'd have to "wait the noo fur yer fag, pal, I'm short staffed here and this lot are wantin' their cuppa. Onyweys, it's no like yer going onywhere is it. You sit still and I'll git you a wee coffee fur tae huv wi' yer fag". I think that might have been what set him off - I don't think he saw the broad wink she gave me as she said this, or heard the gasping chortled whisper "Like he's go a buckin' choice in his buckin' chair" to me - I think it was the fact that he didn't have the bucking choice as he was stuck in his bucking wheelchair and stuck in the home. He needs a lot of care, but his mind is still pretty much there. He's in hell. His speech is not good, he finds it difficult to communicate, but he wants out of the home. He wants out of the home and at that particular moment, if he couldn't get out of the home, he wanted to have a fag. He rolled himself over to the trolley and started to try and tip it over. Francine struggled with him and he turned his attentions to pulling at her. She started to shout at him to let go. One of the other mobile residents got up to help - as I had - I couldn't get past her as she'd managed to manouevre the trolley to completely block the exit from the horseshoe of chairs. Bobby was screaming and screaming at Francine. Not words just "Aaaarrgghh" - comicbook screams. The old lady that was try to help Francine was pulling the trolley in such a way that it was about to tip all over her, so I managed to get her to sit, hemmed her in with a table on wheels, a tea and a pink wafer - that most sought after and effective of sops - and sped off to look for help. I shouted up and down the corridors as I ran looking for anyone to help. Eventually Candy came out of one of the toilets with Cecily, who is also very demanding, and asked me what the hell was the matter. I told her than Francine really needed help in the dayroom and she went to help. She released Bobby's grasp from Francine's arm and rolled him into the visitors room. The door opens inwards there and he can't get out. Hiatus over, Francine returned to teas. "Wit can ye dae, the pair bugger disnae want tae be here - and can ye blame him? Widnae want tae be here maesel. But it's no tha' though, I cannae huv tha'. I didnae git paid if am aff, and the sick pay disnae go far. I cannae afford tae huv the likes of him puttin' me aff ma wurk." I said that I'd never seen him like that before and she throws "That's cos your no here Jeannie, that's cos you dinnae come in every day likes ye used to. Not that I'm critising, likes, but it's been noticed , like, that yer no in as much. Yer Da's noticed tae, but that's no fur me tae say".

As I'm leaving I pass the visitors room, where Bobby is still screaming and ramming his chair against the door, frustratedly trying to get out or get attention, or get his fag. At the door Candy catches me, "Didnae you mind Francine - she was gist shaken - ye dae fine by yer Da. He disnae really notice yer no in as much. She's just lashing oot at someone and you got it this time. She feels fur the poor auld bugger. We cannae git him shiftit. The paperwurk we huv tae fill in tae git his social worker tae see he's in the wrang place is unbefuckinglievable. Her hearts in the right place though. It's just her wey uv dealing wi it aw." She tousles my hair from her 6ft 1inch vantage as I leave "You dae yer Da fine". She's 19. I'm 44 and feel even smaller than my 5ft 3inches - how did she get so smart so young?