On Monday evening we had to take the dementing ones cat to the vet. The cat had been poorly a while but the dementing one was not really acknowledging it.
On the way there, my sister’s social worked called me. She told me that there has been a whistle blowing incident at my sisters care home. There is an allegation of abuse towards my sister. A member of staff has been suspended and the police are conducting an investigation.
The social worker requested I do not retaliate by hunting anyone down and performing KGB style torture. I reluctantly promised I wouldn’t.
At the vets, they were offering to find ways to keep Ali cat alive. The dementing one was agreeable to this. However I called it and requested the cat be put to sleep. It was the right thing to do because the poor thing looked like an RSPCA advert and was going to get more and more neglected.
‘Turns out doing the right thing is hard. The dementing one was very pragmatic about it all (she doesn’t do emotion anymore really). Meanwhile I was a blubbering mess who could only just muster a “Thank you” as Ali cat slipped into an eternal sleep. .
We went back to the dementing ones house and I dug a grave for Ali cat.
I then called in on my sister and reminded her carer’s that I’m her appointed person – that they need to look after her well because she has someone fearless who is looking out for her and who doesn’t tolerate mistreatment. I said it in a Russian accent so they knew I meant business.
The good thing about all of this, is that even the bits that leave me feeling a little bruised and broken, remind me I’m still alive. And whilst that continues to be the case, I’ll keep on fixing what I can. I live in service to make things change and improve in ways that fuel my reasons to like myself, to be proud of myself and to be at peace with myself.
Everyday, in every *way* I will continue to get better and better.
