The care home called as I was making my breakfast. They were concerned about mum. She'd not had any fluids yesterday and had a swollen arm and was looking very grey. The doctor had been called.

I rushed in - to find mum in bed, still a bit grey but slightly improved, she was dozing fitfully and clearly had a chest infection - her chest was rattling very badly.

The doctor turned up, prescribed antibiotics and mum was sat in a chair (arguing and pushing people away the entire time! For a frail old lady, she's very feisty!)  She took her first dose of meds and even drank a bit of orange squash.

The doctor was reasonably confident she'd 'survive'. I get so upset at the thought of her dying - but it'll happen soon enough, and she would really rather not be in this state.

When my slightly befuddled paternal grandma came to live with us, mum said 'If I ever get that bad, just bop me on the head'.

She's far worse than grandma ever was.