going going gone

I asked Mum what we should have for breakfast as I looked into bare cupboards. She blithely told me that she was going to have cereal, then looked dumbstruck that there was none there. I suggested that we eat a cooked breakfast in the local café.

It took us 2 hours to get out of the door. I had to dress Mum myself, because she couldn't process instructions like "now put on your blouse" and would just stand there. Her skin hangs off her arms and legs in turkey folds, the muscles within have melted into something the consistency of a soufflé.

At the café, we found a table but Mum needed the toilet, so I guided her to the doorway to the toilets. As soon as we'd sat down again, she wanted the toilet again. We couldn't order and then leave our table and she couldn't make it to the toilet alone, so I suggested that she hold on. We ate quickly and then I took her to the toilets. 

At the doorway, Mum just stood frozen on the spot.

I asked her what was wrong. 

"Well, I can't go there, can I? There's no toilet for me to sit on!"

She was looking at through the first door into the small corridor which led to the toilet door, thinking I was leading her to an empty room. This was only 15 minutes after her last (successful) visit to the toilet in a café that she's been going to extremely often over the last 7 years.

By the time we got outside to the car, Mum needed the toilet again. I had planned to visit some Care Homes with her, but this wasn't working out well. I took her back to her apartment building and let her go there.

I know Mum hasn't got a bladder infection, because I spoke to her Doctor on Wednesday and he had just done a urine test and checked her blood.