Day 4,043 in the Nanny June Care Home

The One Where We Keep Falling

One day there will be a phone call. That horrible, knowing in an instant that “this isn’t good” phone call.

When my dad was in the same care home I had The Phone Call just as I was just off out the door for a nice meal and drinks with a friend. The call said ‘come soon’. I made a judgement call in that moment that I would go in the morning. My dad would say do that. Quite literally - it’s what he would have wanted. Weeks later (thankfully?!) he died. But the phone call was a heads up. The care home knew.

A few weeks ago when I was least expecting it and absorbed in my own being a mum life, I got a call. For context the care home rings reasonably often; changes to visiting post Covid, the need for new slippers or pyjamas, consent for vaccinations… but this call had *that* tone.

*Am I speaking to Elizabeth?*

- June has had a fall.

But she’s okay.

Startled but okay.

It wasn’t just a phone call, it was a wake up call. *That* phone call will come one day. Probably when I least expect it.

Then this week I had another call.

Another ‘Am I speaking to Elizabeth? Her daughter?” phone call.

Another fall.

At night this time.

Nanny June is as tough as old boots. She probably bounces as badly as them though.

She’s okay.

I’m okay.

Everything is okay.

But not forever. This is a lesson in being prepared. For increased fragility and frailty. For that phone call. The last phone call.

Assume the brace position.