All of the above.
So, I came to work just now and left him at home, faffing around until lunchtime when he will suddenly say to his mother:
"Okaasan, y'know, recently your memory has been not so great, after lunch we are going to talk to a doctor. Be ready at 1.30 pm. Would you like more tofu?"
How would you react?
I think I'd get angry with him, defend myself strongly and then stuff the tofu down his throat and go back to watching the weather channel on TV.
That's what I'd do.
That's what I fear is going to happen.
But I can't do any more. I've brought her and him to this day: the day you actually bring Dementia out into public and ask for help.
He wasn't talking much to me about this today. I showed him the new-patient entry form on the clinic website, he downloaded and printed it out. Then put it in a file and didn't do anything about it yet. I have to stand back and let him take the action from here. He isn't going to do the white lie way. He's going for the truth because he says she will rise to the challenge of proving that she is ok. Proving it by taking an interview test.
I wish I was a fly on the clinic wall today.
My final input was to deliver my letter to the doctor last night. The clinic is just round the corner from my classroom, so on my way home I jumped out of the car and ran across to put it in the mail box - my appeal for help with daycare and my assessment of Okaasan's abilities.
Couldn't find the mail box!!!
This business doesn't have a mail box??? Just a glass sliding door? Don't they get letters? I hunted all round the building front, and in the apartment entrance area round the corner. Couldn't find one anyway.
Finally, I managed to slip the envelope under the glass doors into the clinic hallway. Ggyahhhh!!
This is going to be like some movie where the all-important letter slips under the doormat and nobody ever reads it.
Okaasan? All oblivious to what's going to happen to her today. Or, not happen.
We haven't said anything about it at all. If we did, she would fuss and fuss and stress and stress.
But of course, in that sick-pet-getting-perky-at-the-vets-kind-of-a-way she was on GREAT form yesterday.
Came out into the kitchen at breakfast time and greeted me cheerfully, took every single pair of dirty underpants into the bath to wash (but then forgot them all and left them in damp piles around the bathroom), and at dinner was very chatty with us about her husband and his golf playing...how she used to go along with him and sit in the golf clubs studying English and chatting to the caddys (but did repeat the stories several times).
All so normal.
I swear she pops downtown to an Internet cafe and checks this blog, and does this to wind me up.
Dear Son doesn't think she is so bad - he tells me each and every single time she does the washing up - I tell HIM each and every single time she leaves food rotting in her living room.
We trade stories to justify our point of view.
Such is family life around a touchy, health topic.
Haaaah. Let's all just cross our fingers and hope today goes as hoped.
Yesterday, I climbed another mountain of stress and survived. Did a speech in Japanese to the Inner Wheel Club, (the women of Rotary members). 3 weeks in preparation and 30 mins plus questions/answers in delivery.
SO relieved when it was over.
Doing things formally in Japanese is a big challenge for me, despite living here for 20 years. The topic was UK Volunteering...and I concentrated on sponsored events, charity shops and casual, local community volunteering. I think it went ok.
All a blur really. Made a mistake of not taking off my watch and putting it on the table in front of me - so first of all I didn't know how long it was all taking - until I somehow wrangled the watch off (while juggling with the microphone) and got it onto the table.
So elated afterwards. Huge weight off my mind. Came back to the classroom and ate a chocolate pudding to celebrate. Felt giddy-happy for the rest of the day.
Hope I feel giddy-happy later today.
There's a story in Japan at the moment of a woman who murdered many family members over many years and put the bodies under the house. Japanese media are wallowing in it.
Blog readers who know where I live (Heather, Izumi, Kumiko etc): if I don't post anything here for 24 hours after now, pleeeeese come and dig in the garden!
There's no knowing how Okaasan is going to react to being told she needs to see a doctor about a mental health issue.