A while back, on one of my visits to Mum, we went shopping for shoes. Mum has suffered from enormous bunions for a few years now, and it turned out that she needed a size 4 shoe on her left foot and a size 5 on her right. Thanks to the pesky new technology at the till we didn't get away with 'accidentally' picking up mismatched sizes from the shelf, so I ended up having to pay for 2 sets of shoes in each style.
Recently, Mum's feet have swollen up even further and a staff member at the Home rang me this week to suggest that I buy some especially-stretchy numbers from the 'Cosyfeet' catalogue. I got her to sit with Mum and pick out the styles and colours she wanted, and then the staff member rang me back with the catalogue numbers. She's gone for the Eliza slipper and the Katie shoe, in a size 6 this time, and I've had to buy matching Velcro extension strips for when Mum's feet swell even further. These are both pretty ugly examples - there are nicer ones in the catalogue, in my opinion. I'm tempted to see these choices as another sign of Mum's decline, but then it could well be that she was steered towards them by someone who doesn't know her tastes the way I do. The trick these days is how NOT to influence Mum's decisions.
I'm still going to use a wheelchair when we go shopping, though. It can shave a whole hour off a store visit!