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A blog about myself, daughter of an extreme hoarder parent who fell over on Christmas Day 2025 and broke 3 ribs. He’s currently in hospital wanting to come home asap... However, he has terminal oesophageal cancer, kidney function issues, a bladder and a chest infection, asthma, diabetes, skin cancer and he’s 95. Meanwhile I’m running around like a blue-arsed fly trying to possibly make things safe at his house in case he comes home, yet being acutely aware he will have an uncanny ability to know if anything’s missing and will be furious. I have a job and family of my own. Slowly but surely, I’m losing the plot.
Today I was at the mountain for 10am. The lady from the social worker team was coming at 3 and I wanted to get as much sorted as possible. Ant and I did as much as we could and filled all the recycling bags of glass, paper and plastic. I filled Freddie, my car and attacked the bottom of the stairs and the kitchen plus some of the pile at the top of the stairs. I wore a mask the whole day as the weather was wet. However, there's SO much left to do.
The lady turned up with a chap from a cleaning company and as soon as they got to the front door they put on shoe protectors... I queried it and she said she did it with everyone. Whatever, if those were the rules. She took a load of photos while Ant told her all about his Autism and all about himself. She went in the living room and asked - can this go? Can that go? I said the whole flipping lot could go if it was down to me... however, it wasn't and the person who it was down to was in hospital busting a gut to come home.
'Well he can't come home while it's like this.' she said. 'We need to have enough space for a Zimmer frame so - approximately half the contents have to go. But he won't give permission for that and he wants to come home yesterday.
They suggested perhaps the 3 piece suite should lose the sofa and one chair. This is a brilliant idea although I doubt he'll agree. They found a lovely corner wooden 4 legged chair, which will be re-homed into my home when it can be dug out and steam cleaned. They want to switch his double bed for a single bed. I know he won't agree to that one. He's already said if they make him put a single bed in then I am to put the double in another room (where?). He will then throw out (yeah haha) the new single and put the double back in...
'All this will have to be moved,' she said, gesturing to a huge pile of boxes (about 9 hours labour by me) I can reduce them but I can't throw them out. She said the same about the kitchen, half the lounge, half the bedroom, all the stairs and all the hallway including the porch where a set of five bedroom drawers sits, full of paper. I estimate about 2000 hours by me. Which will have to be fit around my job, my family and my life. I am away with the girls this weekend on a big birthday adventure. I'm not giving it up for anyone least f all someone who won't even say thank you.
I will not receive any thanks for it, only accusations of throwing stuff out. I will likely kill myself if I try to rush the process as there's only so much a girl can do, especially one with chronic eosinophilic asthma and dust allergies. I have to look after my own mental health - this is of vital importance to me. There is no room to sort anything unless we use the groundsheet on the garden. There is only me to do it.
I couldn't face visiting him today. I will go tomorrow, maybe.
Freddie car trips to the tip - 1 - two old kettles, another small microwave sized oven, a pile of junk and a load of cardboard (the recycling bin was full of paper).
What is making me mad? The amount of stuff the lack of time, the red tape and the fear he will come home.
What is making me happy? the thought of the weekend coming up seeing Abba Voyage in London.
What is making me cry anything and everything and nothing. - and the pet-plan ad on TV
What have I done to relax? - I managed two hours sleep last night and a Rock Choir session yesterday.
Interesting finds A wedding invitation from 1964.
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