Back to the Netherlands

My mum had decided she wanted professional help. So we set the wheels on motion to make that happen. The first step was: a geriatric district nurse. She came when my sister was still there. We hoped things would move fast from then on. 

They didn’t. The nurse came on Monday. The next thing to happen would be a geriatrician, coming that Friday. My mum’s sister got back to visiting my mum every day to sort out tea and the occasional sandwich. But my sister and me were nervous about that. In between visits, my mum was bound to go to the loo. That could go wrong any time! I decided to go back. 

I decided to take car and ferry this time. Surely my mum would go into a home. We would have to empty her house. If I wanted to bring her administration home (I am the executor), or bring some keepsakes, this would be the time. And then you need a bit of space; hence the car. I booked a ticket on the next day’s ferry. 

Hopefully, the geriatrician would sort something out soon, but probably not that Friday, so I booked a flexible ticket back on the Tuesday. If I needed to stay longer I could move it. And I emailed work I was on my way again. And asked the neighbour again to look after the cat. 

I booked the ticket from the office, and on the way home I biked past Halfords. I needed a ‘UK’ sticker. And stickers for on my headlights. 

Then I could go and pack. Mum, here I come again!