I went out at 9.30am this morning and didn't get in until 4.30pm. The plan was to take Tom out for a coffee and a bit of fresh air for an hour then come home and get on with what we both needed to do. We'd only just ordered the coffee when he went into what I can only describe as a mental decline.
I suggested we take him back to the home and said that I would stay with him for the day to see if he slept any better with somebody with him. Very surprisingly he agreed to this.
So, for most of the day I've sat in Tom's room. We've watched tennis, read the papers and had a chat. He's dozed in the chair and tried to sleep in the bed but can't get comfy. His ankles are like puddings, his bedsore is giving him jip and not being able to get a proper breath is driving his mad. And watching the whole thing just makes you feel so helpless.
He eventually went into a 'proper' sleep in the chair about 3pm and had a good hour, only to jerk awake that violently that he somehow slipped/fell off the chair and ended up sprawled out on the floor.
They've put a call in to his GP again and somebody is coming out to see him tomorrow. The nurse who's dealt with him today isn't in now for 3 days and has asked if we can be there tomorrow afternoon when the Doctor comes so we can go through everything with him.
So, that's what I've got planned for tomorrow.
Sorry about the lack of photos, there's not much opportunity for picture taking in a poorly man's bedroom. Hopefully normality will resume tomorrow.