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I spoke with Olivia the physiotherapist intially dealing with Dad on February 23rd.
Then on 2nd March I got through to the Countess and was passed through to the physiotherapist dealing with Dad.
“Hello,” he began, “I'm John, I've just returned and, I'll be looking after your Father.”
“Uh-huh,” I'd responded blankly.
Then he had surprised me.
“We're thinking about dicharging him soon.”
“When?” I'd asked.
I cannot recall whether 'John' had said tomorrow, or Friday.
Either way I was puzzled.
Other than this conversation, no-one had spoken to me about Dad's condition.
“But he hasn't been assesed for need.” I'd said, thinking of my home not him. Yet, that had not been what came out.
“Ah, we won'tt discharge him on Friday then,” he had said, the tone of his voice no longer sounding as cheerful.
On Sunday I had rung a few times to find out how Dad was, having little luck in accessing information.
On Monday I rung between eight to ten times, waiting on the physiotherapist when requesting, being assured by the ward nurse, “I'll get them to ring you, or try to contact you myself.”
I'd waited all day, getting more anxious by the minute.
Finally my anxiety and lack of patience got to me and I'd passed my thoughts on to my doctor, who'd got Leanne the receptionist, who finally got through to me, telling me Dad was medically stable. Now although that wasn't much, it'd certainly been important to me.
That said, I actually slept well for three nights and ate a solid meal, for three days running, before seeking an early night which is very rare, for me.
And, thanks to Youtube, I managed to acquire several new audio's, to listen to...
I did go to the dentist again, this time for my final moulding, prior to the set being made and my next appointment.
Then upon checking my new phone fpr prior calls I had found a 'real' phone number, that I did not recognise. I had chosen to phone call back, thankful that I had in the end.
I had introduced myself and, she had recognized the previous call: "I'm a social worker, ringing about your Father."
She had been asking if I'd help in assesing whether I'd be willing to help, seeming pleased I'd 'yes.' Of course I'd said 'yes', wanting my Dad home...
Then I'd been listening to Radio Merseyside late night and Charles Kingsland was giving medical adice to listeners. Someone rang in and asked, "What about the fourth jab, being given to the over 40's?"
The answer had been that those with extreme morbidity would be given preference. And, as I'd headed for my laptop and finally bed, I thought on... I have low immunity and, extreme morbidity... and, I wondered to myself, 'Are they going to try and get me, again?'


I spent Sunday confused and not really knowing why. When a friend called round in the evening I'd learned why the confusion had been felt, as strongly as it had: it had transprired that the clocks had gone forward already and, I had not realised, so up until my reaization, I'd been an hour slow all day.
Then on the Monday when I sought to ascertain the time of a dental appointment, all I got was an engaged tone. Finally at two fifteen I'd gone through, to an answering machine telling me the practice would be open at 8:30m the next day.
I'd travelled anyway, thankful that I had, as my appointment had been at the time my back brain recalled. That had been a surprise to me, in itself.
As it was, I got home with a new set of lower teeth that fit well, much to my pleasure...
Then there had been Friday. I had not been too good at all, with the weight of all that'd been happening of late. Then come the Saturday, I'd been able to do something about it, turning my depression on it's head somewhat.
At about 15:45 on the 5th April, I'd got a phone-call from the Ward Manager of Ward 41 of the Countess of Chester. As I'd been waiting weeks to hear from the hosptal, I'd immediately straightened up on the seat, to listen to what she had to say.
She had told me he had fallen again, on the afternoon of the fourth. It seems he had seen something on the floor and tried to pick it up, then had fallen.
He had damaged his left hip, again.
Before the call had ended, she had listened to me, as I'd spoken of Dad's likes and perferences.
I'd also made a point of thanking her for phoning, having made mention of how anxious I'd been, waiting for someone to phone from the Countess.
Then, at about 19:45 there was another phone-call. This one was the orthopoedic surgeon who'd been operating on Dad the next day; if the anaesitiast says he can have it, as currently he's covid positive.
On friday I'd got a phone-call from Ellie of the Countess, which had been the call I'd been waiting for all day: Dad was alive and eaten the chocolate I'd suggested, for him.