Don’t Drink The Mouthwash
Steven has had a toothache since yesterday morning.
That usually means two things. Firstly, lots of stress in getting the dentist to take the matter seriously and acknowledge that dental treatment and Steven is a bit like a white water rapid ride. Secondly, as Steven struggles to deal with pain, it means a sudden surge in challenging behaviour.
I’m exhausted already and there’s still two more days to go before we get to see the dentist.
Mondays are meant to be a quiet day for me. I get two hours in the morning whilst Steven is at the Arts Centre and then from 2pm, I have the rest of the day free as respite. On Tuesdays, I’m free until Steven returns from swimming at midday. Lots of time to get stuff done and chill out.
Yesterday, they arrived at the Arts centre and the support worker reported a meltdown at 8.30 that resulted in a broken fruit bowl, a ripped Mr Bean calendar and pee all over the sofa. So, that was my two hours sorted – off to buy a Tupperware fruit bowl and then home to wash the cushion covers.
I got to the flat just after 2 o’clock and got cracking on the following:
- Phone the dental surgery and arrange an appointment. The earliest one was this Thursday afternoon. The call took 35 minutes.
- Phone the council and pay the bill for Steven’s care charges up to date. That took 40 minutes.
- Phone minibus hire companies and book our vehicle for the holiday in Torquay.
- Phone around different local cab firms and get quotes with a view of changing Steven’s transport hire. This took an hour and a half of research. But I did eventually get a new firm sorted.
By now, it was 5.30pm and I realised I hadn’t eaten anything bar 2 shortbread biscuits since breakfast. So, I jumped on a bus to Uxbridge, snatched a Burger King and was back home in the hour to write the letter to the new cab firm, detailing our requirements. By 8pm, I couldn’t face anymore paperwork and crashed in front of the TV, watching an old episode of Murder She Wrote. (This is life in the fast lane).
I woke feeling quite frisky this morning, thinking I had a couple of hours to catch up on the things I had to put off yesterday. On my way back home, the support worker phoned. Steven’s toothache was worse and had induced another meltdown. The result being a smashed TV. So, that put the tin hat on today’s plans as I went off to Currys to buy a new TV. The meltdowns have continued on and off all day long.
Funny thing is – Steven isn’t too bothered by the dentist. He frames it in his Mr Bean world, so will talk about “Don’t drink the yellow mouthwash” and “Don’t stick the needle in the dentist’s leg”. Any port in a storm – if it take away some of the anxiety, then thank you Mr Bean.
I’m lucky because I’ll be out of the firing line quite a bit between now and Thursday. I go off to work at 1 o’clock tomorrow and won’t be home until just before Steven sets off for the dentist the day after. The personal budget doesn’t stretch to emergency situations but it doesn’t feel right to leave one support worker on their own with Steven whilst he’s all over the place, so I’ve doubled up the support from the time I leave tomorrow until the appointment. With a new telly to buy, care charges to settle and double the wages, thank goodness for Steven’s damages and the money I got for the HB fiasco.
Anyone want to swop lives for a few days?
From → Social Care