What a Dilemma! - Leaving Home

What a Dilemma! – Leaving Home

Martha, aged 79, is not managing too well at home, her sight and hearing are slowly deteriorating, and it is obvious to her friends and neighbours that as she struggles to walk and do daily tasks, she clearly needs more help than they can give her.

Martha’s daughter, Veronica, lives in the Midlands while Martha lives in the family home, tucked away in a picturesque village on the South Downs .   Veronica is worried about her Mother and comes to visit as often as she can in between managing a full time job and two lively teenagers.  ‘It’s time I took action and start making enquiries about a suitable residential setting near to me and the boys,’ she muttered to herself.   On several visits over the last few months she had had difficult conversations with Martha, some of them ending in tears, others in anger or silent resignation.  

The day arrived for Martha’s move to the Midlands. The car was already loaded, the ornaments and family photograph albums tucked between the clothing in the suitcase, and only yesterday Martha said a tearful ‘Goodbye’ to Sammy her twelve-year old cat as he was driven away to the cattery.

On reaching the car where Veronica stood waiting with the front passenger door held open, Martha slowly struggled to turn and take one final look at the home in which she and husband, Leonard, had brought up their three children, Veronica, the eldest, a partner in a law firm, Victor, an engineer working in the Far East, and Albert, the youngest, living in Scotland with his family of four children aged 4 to 14. Martha fought back the tears as Veronica started the engine and pulled away. She didn't want Veronica to see her upset as she had gone to so much trouble to find her a place to live.  'I should be grateful' Martha thought, 'she's worked so hard to find me somewhere near her, and she says I'll love seeing the grandchildren more often.'  The journey lasted over five hours, punctuated with a coffee and combined toilet stop and an occasional comment mainly about the traffic and the weather.  The silences hung heavy between them. They reached St. Agatha's Nursing Home as afternoon tea was served. 

The large oak door swung open.  'Hello, you must be Mrs. Jenkins, we've been expecting you. Come in now and have some tea. You must be tired after your long journey.'   Martha, using her walking frame, inched along the hallway and was shown into a sitting room. Although her head was partially bent downwards she could see enough to realise that there were several people sitting in armchairs.  She was shown to a vacant seat and Veronica instructed Martha to turn round and sit herself down. 

'We'll get you some tea, while I take your daughter to the Office to sort a few things out and then, when you've had your tea we'll come back and take you to your room.'
A ginger cat wandered past Martha's feet and she wondered how Sammy was faring in the Cattery. 'I hope someone will take him and give him his favourite fish,' thought Martha. 

She finally got to see her room, No. 27.  She hoped she'd remember where it was but her initial thought focused on the toilet.  'I need the toilet,' Martha whispered, and was shown to one two doors down on the opposite side of the corridor.  The Manager, Mrs Mehta, and Veronica talked quietly as Martha slowly made her way and then the door was shut behind her.  At last she was alone for a few minutes.  

Now back in No. 27, Martha reached a chair beside the bed, Veronica bent and kissed her cheek.  She was in a hurry to leave. 'Im going now, Mother, I've sorted everything. Now you've got nothing to worry about and I'll be back to see how you're getting on in a few days.  Be good now, and don't give the nurses any trouble,' and with a final wave she was gone. 

Martha sat staring at a photograph of Leonard, positioned on the bedside table. Her thoughts wandered from Leonard, to Victor, to Sammy, to the 'Farewell' tea the neighbours had brought to her home just yesterday.  Those faces seemed a long way away. 'Will I ever see Marjorie, Rose, Dorothy and Peter again,' she wondered. Even the Meals on Wheels Lady had called in for a cup of tea and slice of cake.  Her thoughts turned back to Leonard.  She wondered what Leonard would say about her sitting here in this room on her own in a place she'd never seen before, not chosen.  he wouldn't have liked the fact Veronica was selling their home. Veronica hadn't told her how much it cost to stay here but she knew it must be expensive if her home was being sold. At that thought she shed a tear.  She felt abandoned and wanted to shut her eyes and not wake up. 

Martha was interrupted by a knock on the door.  'Can I come in. You've just arrived, I know. It will feel strange at first but you'll soon settle and in a little while I'll come and get you and you can meet some of the other residents before supper.'  Martha was alone again and thought some more. 'I don't want to meet the other residents,' she muttered angrily to herself.  Martha shed a silent tear as her thoughts turned to everything that was familiar to her. 

There was her darling, Sammy, her home, already with an estate agent, to be sold as quickly as possible to pay the Nursing Home fees.  Then there were her kindly neighbours who popped in daily and did her shopping.   Then there were he nurses who came three days a week to dress her leg, the milkman who made her a cup of tea on Saturdays when her neighbours were busy with their families.  Martha thought of her Day Centre friends, she only went on one day a week but she loved the ride around familiar roads and the chats they had together.  They were like her family, too.  She slowly left Leonard and looked around the room.   'Where was the telephone?  How will I get in touch with Victor and Albert, and what about the neighbours?'  She hoped Veronica had remembered to sort out the phone but she couldn't ring her to ask.  Her mind wandered off into thoughts of her Doctor whom she had known since the children were small.  ‘Who would look after her now?  She admitted to herself that there had been times she was lonely, terribly lonely, when the neighbours were away, usually babysitting the grandchildren, the milkman was on his holiday, there was no post and the nurse phoned to say they were extra busy and she would have to wait for them to visit. She was alone now and a great wave of fear surrounded her.  She was amongst strangers who seemed kind but she didn't know them, she couldn't understand some of them and she was worried about whether she could afford to stay.  Veronica said they'd had a prospective buyer for her home.  Her beloved home, ‘Oh, no!  How could Veronica sell the family home where the swing still stood at the end of the garden and Leonard's rose bush that he'd given her on their fiftieth wedding anniversary, was still in bloom.  Memories and emotion mingled together. 

'Now Martha, we can't have you sitting here on your own, come and meet your new friends.'   Martha, at that moment, didn't want to meet anybody, she wanted to go to the toilet and she wanted Veronica to take her home. 

Veronica drove to her home with a heavy heart, yet she was relieved.  Mother was safe, she'd soon settle, she mused.  The next morning she phoned the Home's Manager.  

'How's my Mother, Mrs. Jenkins?  I'm her daughter and I want her to be happy and settle in.  Please, if anyone phones to ask after Mother, say she's fine and they're not to visit, send letters, or flowers.  I want to make sure she isn't unsettled with constant reminders of home as it will upset her and I have enough to worry about without her being disturbed.'  As I said yesterday, this was a difficult decision to make and I want to be sure I’ve done the right thing.   Mrs. Mehta had heard similar requests from relatives and gave a deep sigh as she replaced the phone on its holder.

Veronica put the phone down abruptly and convincing herself she’d done the right thing reminded herself that when she visited at the weekend she must take Mother a new nightdress and some talcum powder.  She added it to the list where she had written socks and vests needed for her son’s football match that she was driving them to on Sunday. 

Ann Macfarlane OBE