Chapter 42

Margaret sighed as the cab pulled up to the entrance to Christopher's care home and she reached over the cabbie's shoulder to pass him the fare plus a small tip as she had been doing for the past month. Had it really been a month since Christopher had entered this facility, she wondered to herself. And nearly two months since they had arrived in London to consult with Martin. She shuddered as she thought of how ill their only child had treated both her and his father. She understood that it was unethical for him to provide his father's medical care, but couldn't he have been more engaged, sat with them as the consultants examined Christopher and explained what was happening. She had so many questions; if only he could have given them an hour, maybe two hours each day to assure them that Christopher's treatment plan was going to be effective. Was that too much to ask? She thought not. It would have been so comforting to both Christopher and herself if he could have sat with his father and consoled him when he lashed out, but no. He left them to fend for themselves and ran off to Cornwall for the holidays. They had never asked much of him before. Surely, he could have cancelled his trip and stayed nearby when they really needed him.

As she walked down the hall, she heard a deep sonorous male voice coming from Christopher's room … Martin. He had finally returned from the west country. She hurried down the few remaining steps to his door and opened it. "Martin, it's about time you arrived. We have been needing to talk with you."

Martin scowled and nodded his head in her direction, "Mum".

Carly and Geoffrey had given her some packages for Christopher just before they returned to Portugal for the New Year's Eve party. She kept forgetting to bring them until today, and as she set them down on the dresser near the door, she noticed Ruth standing near the window. Totally surprised to see her sister-in-law, she blurted out, "What are you doing here?"

Ruth gave her the same wry look she had given her brother when he had asked that question, "Your husband asked me that very same question less than twenty minutes ago. Always nice to feel welcome when visiting the sick."

Margaret regained her composure and pulled her shoulders back and up to achieve her full height to face Ruth, "Yes, of course."

Nodding in Martin's direction she addressed her son once again, "Martin?"

An awkward silence hovered over the room as they each waited for the first to speak. Eventually, Christopher blurted out, "Martin says I can go home if we hire a live-in aide."

Margaret turned to Martin, "Is that true, Martin?"

"It's a possibility, although I'm not sure you have the funds. It would be better if Dad would work with the therapist here and regain the use of his legs."

Martin turned toward his father and added, "As Ruth just said, I would think you would prefer to walk on your own two feet rather than spend the rest of your days in a wheel chair."

Christopher jerked his head to the side as if the thought that he could be bound to a wheel chair had never crossed his mind. He rolled onto his side and slipped his feet over the edge of the bed, planning to show them all that he was perfectly capable of walking on his own, and he did manage to stand briefly before his legs buckled and he fell onto the floor, breaking his fall by grabbing onto the bed before landing. Martin rushed over to his side, propping him into a sitting position against the bed. "Ruth, can you find an aide to help me lift him back into his chair or the bed?"

"Dad, are you in any pain? I need to check you over and assess for any broken bones."

"Stop fussing Martin," Christopher growled in irritation. "Nothing is broken. I'm fine. I just slipped on the rug. Don't they know better than to put a throw rug in these rooms? Anyone could trip and fall."

Margaret looked down and said, "There isn't a rug on the floor, you old fool. We all know that you can't walk … you just refuse to admit it."

Christopher glared at her and was about to return her insult when Ruth and the aide entered the room. Martin and the aide moved him to the bed, and with the aide standing by his side, Martin checked him over. "You have some significant bruising, but it doesn't appear that you have broken any bones. Still the staff will need to keep a close eye on you in case something shows up."

He stepped back and addressed his father sternly, "You do know that you could have broken your hip with that bit of tomfoolery. Many more weeks in hospital and not much chance of regaining mobility after that. In fact, at your age, a hip fracture can lead to serious complications, even death. You were lucky this time; you may not be so fortunate next time."

"Balderdash."

"Your decision, your funeral."

Martin turned away from his father and spoke to his mother, "I have advised Dad that he should work with the therapists to strengthen his legs so he can walk, but it appears that his strokes have impaired his ability to acknowledge his limitations and unless he starts to cooperate, he will be consigned to a wheel chair and his prognosis is not good. Were you able to consult with one of the social workers? You are going to have to make some decisions regarding his care in the near future."

"Yes, I spoke with the social workers. They are really no help at all. They suggested that I attend a therapy group and they gave me some names of home health providers, which is no help whatsoever if we return to Portugal. Can't you assist me to find the right people to help? I can't do all this on my own, Martin. I really have no idea where to start."

At this point Ruth stepped in. "Margaret, Martin and I spoke extensively about this situation whilst we were in Cornwall. I believe I understand the difficulties you are facing and I am prepared to help."

"You were with Martin and his family in Cornwall? Whatever for?"

"We were celebrating the holidays, but that is irrelevant. Martin does not have the time to manage Christopher's care. As head of his department, his work is demanding, and he has a young family at home. He cannot ignore their needs."

Margaret bristled at Ruth comments. "We are his family also, and we have needs that he can't ignore."

Ruth was prepared for this line of attack, "Which is why he has accepted my offer of help. I am family as well, and I can devote the time necessary to make sure Christopher has the best of care. Isn't that what you want?" Ruth gave Margaret her best insincere smile.

Margaret hesitated. She and Ruth had never gotten along and it was unlikely they would work together smoothly now. If she were honest with herself, she was certain that Martin would be easier to manipulate, to coerce into doing whatever she asked. He had always been eager to please, always compliant, doing whatever she asked to gain her favour, or he had been as a child; she assumed he would be equally compliant now despite his incivility as of late. Ruth on the other hand was impervious to her stratagems.

Before she could speak, Martin added, "Yes. I will continue to monitor his medical status, but you can look to Ruth for help with your financial affairs and in making a decision as to whether to take Dad back to Portugal and in making the arrangements if necessary, a move I strongly advise against. You could also encourage him to work with his therapists. Ruth can certainly assess his need for some cognitive therapy."

Ruth added, 'Why don't we meet for lunch tomorrow and talk about it?"

Margaret had no intention of being railroaded into working with Ruth, "I always come to help Christopher with his midday meal. I can't possibly do lunch."

"Well then. Let's meet for an early supper. Half five tomorrow? Give me your mobile number and I will text the directions to my favourite café."

It appeared that she had no choice but to meet with Ruth. "Very well." She agreed and gave Ruth her number.

If Ruth were as anxious to help Martin as she implied, she might be inclined to see things as Margaret did. And if she played her cards right, she might be able to coerce Ruth into relieving her of the onerous responsibilities involved with caring for a sick spouse. After all, Christopher was her brother; surely, she retained some affection for him still. It could work to her advantage if she managed her interactions with Ruth prudently.

"Five thirty tomorrow. I will meet you then." Turning to Christopher, she said, "Shall we eat in the dining room? It might be pleasant to talk to some of the other patients today. I can see you have had a difficult morning."