Before my Bavarian Break

With mum in Shalvata, I was still determined to keep up my plan to leave on the 15th, and to go on as planned to Munich. The first day of her stay in the psychiatric facility I couldn't bring myself to go, thereby probably losing further stock. Nir and Adi drove here there, and waited for a couple of hours till she was actually admitted, Lea arrived to see her, but no sign of life from me. I went with Lea the following day (Saturday). The place was actually much more pleasant than I expected. Low-rise buildings in a green setting. Mum was in bed. Lying on her side, clearly sedated by the injection she got (we were told by the staff that she hadn't eaten a thing, taken any medication willingly, she "may" have taken some water). She refused the cake Lea brought for her in the hope she could be tempted to break her hunger strike. Nothing. Lea finally gave up and placed the small container on the bedside table. Within minutes mum made a small hand gesture, intentional or not (I tend to think the latter) that upset the container, sending the cake, whipped cream and all onto the floor. There was only one more woman in the room. Mum was talking in murmurs, to Lea. All I got from her was an accusation that this was all my doing, a part of the plot to get rid of her. We tried to reason with her that she had to co-operate with her tormentors. She would be given her food and medicine in an intraveinous drip, the sooner she plays along the sooner she's out of there.
The meal in the Zepra restaurant afterwards felt wrong, given that Zepra is considered one of the best in Israel... Lea picked me up from the house, with Idan, Anat (his girlfriend) and Adi at the back. We were met by Nir (who brought Dor pillion on his Gold Wing, and gave the same treat to Adi on the way back).
The next day we got dad and all his stuff back up to the flat. Lea brought a Phillipina called Winnie from Tel Aviv for an audition. Dad must have a round the clock help in order to be able to live in the flat. One of the reasons for that is, unfortunately, mum, but he does need the help. I wasn't frankly too impressed with her. For one she can't cook beyond the most basic stuff, but she seems caring, and we needed to create an environment where first and foremost dad can be in his own apartment, not in the support clinic, where he can no longer benefit from staying - there was nothing more they could do for him. Winnie would start tomorrow (Monday). If I stayed in Israel it would be at Lea's house. I helped dad to shower in the morning, and I must admit he nedded little help. Winnie would still have to be there: it's an issue of balance, and the shower is probably the most volunrable place for dad to be. She would also be responsible for his exercise, walks etc.
I dropped Winnie of at the bus stop, and she would return with her things tomorrow to start her new position.
In the afternoon Lea and I went to see mum. This time she was moved to a locked-up ward, and looked more out of place among all the much younger people there than anywhere else I have ever seen her. She was sat in her bed. On seeing me she turned away. Lea brought another cake, again home-made, and some grapes. Mum still had not taken any solids, and would be given a drip by the end of the day. As Lea tried to sweet talk mum into eating something, a young woman stirred in the next bed. To my horror I realised she was strapped to the bed by her wrists and ankles. She was whipped up by Lea's pleas and starting to talk, wail and sobbingly add her support. Lea just said to mum: "You should listen to her, she is right. She knows what she's talking about". I thought so too.
We eventually talked mum into getting out of bed, to go sit in the ante room where the nurse, a tough but kindly woman, kept her watch on the two rooms in her charge. Other patients strolled in and out, they smoked there (as did the nurse, but would you pick an argument with either?), and we then progressed out to the eating area. A young man came to me and in a slurred speech, occasionally peppered with clarity, asked me to get him the police for some reason I couldn't figure (and didn't care, frankly), a big fat scary girl, mum's other room-mate in fact, sidled up to mum and fixed her stare in equal measure on mum and on her untouched cake. I knew that would create a dilema for mum: stubborn as she was, she would hate her own daughter's food to be wasted on someone else. We were always told how people fought for any scrap of food in the concentration camps. If you were fortunate enough to have food left-over you held on to it, for you would need it soon enough. To give it to someone who wasn't your kith and kin was as sinful as to throw it away. On a full stomach this always sounded like a twisted, uncharitable philosophy, but we never had the "advantage" of experiencing the holocaust...
The next day, Monday, I went shopping, later Winnie arrived, and I made up a basic program of her daily tasks. I also showed her how to make chicken soup more or less the way mum used to make it till she became disfunctional in the kitchen (long before they moved to the house, I later learned). The study, my room for the last three weeks was cleared of my stuff. I packed a few things to take with me, the rest was to wait for my return at Lea's place. I took the train from Tel Aviv to Ben Gurion airport, and around midnight BST I pushed my front door open to a pile of post on the floor. Tomorrow I plan to see Guy, we're going to visit a couple of galleries.