Rachel tapped her foot impatiently as she waited to see Dr Edwards, her eyes narrow and her lips pressed tightly together. Her arrival home late the previous evening meant that this morning was her first opportunity to check on her mother at The Elms. It was a shock to learn that they’d discharged Alice, and she now wanted to ask the doctor why.
After a few minutes, a patient came out of the doctor’s office and Rachel jumped to her feet, catching the door before it had chance to close, pushing her way into the office.
Even though she was already in the room, Richard Edwards said, ‘Hello, Rachel, come in, please.’ This was an interview he’d been expecting, and he’d correctly anticipated Rachel’s mood.
‘Why wasn’t I informed of the assessment on my mother? And who decided that she was fit to go home? I thought there was a Deprivation of Liberty Order on her?’
‘Please, sit down and I’ll explain it to you.’ The doctor smiled and spoke in his reassuring, bedside voice.
* * *
Richard Edwards had plenty of practice dealing with anxious relatives over the years at The Elms. When Rachel was seated opposite him, he explained the assessment process regarding her mother’s wishes.
‘As you know, I’ve been talking with Alice regularly, but she’s also seen a Best Interests Assessor and an independent psychiatrist–’
‘But why wasn’t I informed before these meetings? I would have been here for them.’
‘Sometimes it’s better if the patient is seen alone for these assessments. Having a relative present can put undue pressure on what is shared. We asked your mother if she was happy to go ahead with the meetings or if she would like to wait until you were present. Alice chose to meet both the assessor and the doctor on her own.’
‘But she doesn’t always know what she’s saying. You know she comes out with some strange ideas and has a minimal grasp on reality.’
‘At the time of the assessment, your mother presented as quite rational. She answered all the questions correctly and admitted to some confusion about her past. The assessor was in no doubt that Alice is capable of making her own decisions, and when asked what she’d like to happen in the future, she elected to go home.’
‘She would say that, but that doesn’t mean she’s safe to be alone, does it? What if she becomes confused again, or could wander away, or let anyone in the house? She’s vulnerable.’
‘I’m sorry you don’t agree with our decision, Rachel, but both the assessor and the psychiatrist agreed to lift the DOL order, and after seeing Alice for myself, I have to concur with that decision. I think you’ll find that your mother’s much improved since you went away.’
‘But how can she be so much better in such a short time? I’m not at all happy about this.’
‘Perhaps you should go to see her and then you might feel otherwise. I saw her on the day she was discharged, and she was quite well and delighted to be going home.’ Dr Edwards stood to indicate the meeting was over. There was nothing else he could do for Rachel Roberts. The woman would hopefully feel differently after she met with her mother.
* * *
Rachel left The Elms and drove straight to her mother’s cottage, not knowing what might greet her. It was two days since Alice’s discharge; this would be her third day at home alone. Rachel rang the bell and then used her key to enter, calling out as she did so.
* * *
Alice heard her daughter from the kitchen and took a deep breath, unsure what Rachel would say or do now that she knew she was home.
There’d been plenty of thinking time for Alice over the last couple of days. Apart from a bit of food shopping, she’d done little else. The shock of finding out that Tom was dead was a heavy blow and a fact with which she still struggled. At times she’d found herself searching for clues to prove that her husband was alive, but her rational side told her this was futile. Perhaps she even owed her daughter an apology, the recent past was still somewhat hazy, but Alice knew she’d acted out of character at times, and she remembered some angry scenes from her days at The Elms.
She came out to meet her daughter with a smile fixed on her face. ‘Hello, Rachel. How was your trip?’
‘Fine, but I’m more concerned about you. You’re not well enough to be alone, Mum. You should have waited until I came home.’ Rachel looked wary of her mother as if she was sizing up her mood.
‘But I’m home now, and I feel so much better for it. I’ll make us a coffee, shall I, and then we can have a chat.’
Rachel followed into the kitchen, where the back door was open, allowing a pleasant breeze to waft through the warm sunny room, carrying on it the scent of freshly mown grass. Silence hung heavily in the air as both women pondered how to open the conversation.
‘How did you know I was home?’ Alice spoke as she went through the motions of making coffee.
‘I got back late last night, so I didn’t visit The Elms until this morning. It was quite a shock to discover you weren’t there.’
‘Did they tell you about the assessments?’
‘Yes. Dr Edwards told me, but I wish you’d waited until I was back. I could have been with you.’
‘I managed perfectly well on my own and there was no need to be taking up a bed that someone else needed. Anyway, I think I owe you an apology. I still find it hard to accept, and I can’t say I remember much about it, but I do know now that your dad is dead…’ It was so difficult to speak those words. To her chagrin, tears filled Alice’s eyes.
‘That’s a relief to hear, but what’s changed your mind?’
‘I found the order of service from his funeral. It was a shock at first, and the facts are still muddled, but I’m sorry I didn’t believe you; it’s just so hard to accept.’ Alice did break down then; hot tears had been her companion for the last few days. The heartache was, at times, almost unbearable.
‘Don’t cry, Mum.’ Rachel made no attempt to move towards her mother or offer a hug to comfort her, but then she rarely, if ever, displayed such emotions. ‘If you still can’t remember the details, can you see now why I don’t think you’re well enough to be on your own?’ She spoke coolly, her words held no compassion. Finally, Alice stopped crying and looked at her daughter.
‘I’m not going back to that place. I might have gaps in my memory, but the doctor thinks that could be down to an infection or something; I’m quite well now.’ Surely Rachel wasn’t going to try to make her go back to The Elms?
‘And what about Barney? Do you still think you have a dog, or can you remember what happened to him?’ Her daughter’s voice sounded harsh, almost cruel.
Alice grudgingly conceded. ‘No, I can’t remember what happened to Barney, but I believe you if you say he’s gone too.’
‘I’m simply worried about your safety. You don’t seem to realise how ill you’ve been. Would you like me to get some help for you? Perhaps someone could call each day to see if you’re okay?’
‘Rachel, I’m fifty-five, hardly an old lady, and I don’t need anyone checking up on me. I’ve got the telephone and I can call you if I need to, but I’m home and I fully intend to carry on living my own life, even if I am alone.’ Alice swallowed hard at the implication of her own words. ‘I’m sure the memories will return in time, but I certainly don’t want to be treated like an invalid.’ She was growing increasingly angry; her daughter’s concern should have been touching, but it wasn’t. They’d never really been close and she rather resented Rachel wanting to make decisions for her now.
‘Okay, but if you do feel ill again or confused, I want you to tell me straight away.’
‘Yes, I will, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.’
After politely answering one or two questions about her trip, Rachel left to go to work and Alice was finally able to relax. Her daughter wasn’t the comfort she should be and sadly not the person Alice would want beside her if she did feel ill.
The relief when Rachel left was a familiar, almost tangible, sensation. When, she wondered, had it started to be like this?
