it never rains but it pours

Those are the words my father spoke to me last night. On Monday my father was taken into hospital because he couldn't get out of bed and was weeping with pain. I had a SOS call from his new, big- buttoned mobile i had bought him for Father's Day. I called work, sent husband to work and children to school, got in the car and drove 33 miles to his home.
He cried.
I requested a visit from the district nurse to come and dress his leg ulcer which hadn't been tended to for a week and I requested a home visit from his GP. We waited. I gave him tea and he took some pain killers. He's not dying, but it feel like it to him, his arthritis flare up is so bad he almost want to die for some relief.
The nurse comes and takes photos of his leg before redressing it. I throw the old dressing out as she tells me, he tells me off after she's gone. "I wash them, " he explains, " you aren't meant to, but they're like gold dust. No one wants to give you any more."
We wait some more, we have tea and i watch him struggle to the door of his bathroom, slower than a snail and weeping. He waves away my arm. I wish i could pick him up and carry him like my children.
The Doctor arrives and clicks his tongue, he looks at his notes. He doesn't recognise dad and dad goes to the doctor's a lot. This is very different to Dad's previous doctor. Doctor Hall was my grandmother;s doctor and my doctor and my brother's doctor. He knew our entire family. He knew that if he had to come to my father's house, dad was very, very ill.
"You're on the strongest drugs we can give you," says the doctor,"how much are you taking? 5ml? Up it."
I explain that more morphine may make dad drowsy, he lives alone and if he gets in a mess there is no one to help him or clean him.
The doctor hmmms for a moment , then ventures that there may be a bed in the community hospital. Dad is silent. I am firm. The doctor rings them. We wait as he is put on hold. There is a bed.
We wait for the community ambulance. Quite quickly someone rings to tell us that they could be up to two hours.
Dad sulks for a bit, then tells me what to pack in his overnight bag, because he wont be staying more than that, there will be no one to water his tomatoes. Another phone call from the community hospital people. We were misinformed, the taxi could be anywhere up to 6 hours.

Either the shock of going to hospital or another dose of morphine makes dad perk up for an hour.

I am dispatched over the road with an envelop to pay his neighbour for the papers he's bought this week and a quick note saying he doesn't need any more this week. I  insist on writing he's going to hospital.

A while later when the neighbour arrives, we watch her go in and out of her house, she cleans the outside and sweeps the drive, she even sweeps the pavement. Its a small town, they like to know what's going on. This lady has a kind, kind heart but needs to know what's going on, not knowing is driving her crazy. Did i see her dust the plants or did i dream it? There is a ring at the door, i answer and she demands to know what's going on with a "I'm not being nosey, I just thought we could visit him as you live far away."

Dad makes me ring the hospital to ask if i can take him, they advise against it and assure me there is still a bed for him.

Dad is supposed to be leaving this house on a stretcher, all his neighbours are home now. The ambulance arrives and parks outside a neighbour's. Two women get out and my heart sinks, no way will dad be lifted by two women. They ask if he can get in a chair and i eagerly agree. He shouts at me to close his bedroom door so he can put his trousers on.

It takes 6 minutes to get to the hospital. There are three other men in the ward. There is only one television and someone else has the remote. I pack his things away and put his phone nearby. I stay for a while then kiss him.
I have seen him everyday this week apart from Thursday. I have been in trouble for telling his cousins and his neighbours, but he has had visits every day from people. The three men have left and dad has the ward to himself and most importantly the remote control.

Yesterday he was asking me to bring things when I came at the weekend, I had to tell him I could come on Monday when my Mum was staying, as she could look after the children for me. My mum who last year I looked after following her operation for colon cancer. She wears a stoma bag and is not as strong as she once was. I also told him my husband was unwell that evening and I had just been told by text that he had been taken to the out of hours clinic. Dad suddenly shrunk and looked small, frightened and above all ashamed.
"Why did you come?" he whispered
"I couldn't leave you without clean pants or pyjamas," I joked.
"Me, your husband and your mum," he muttered.
I think I sort of shrugged in what I  hoped was a "C'est la vie" kind of way.
"It never rains but it pours" he said."go home"

I did go home but I went and watered his tomatoes first.