Looking After Dad

Lea and I saw the house doctor earlier today. We discussed the situation, and it looks like mum would need some strong stuff - none of your namby-pamby anti-depressants, it will take the kind of drugs that require the signature of a psychiatrist. Their old family GP specialised in so-called psycho-geriatric case. He can't make it over to the house today. Could mum call at his office at 4 pm? "Certainly not! If he wants to see me he is welcome to come over. Making out like I'm a nutcase yet". We call him again. He will be over tomorrow noon. Let's hope she consents to see him, and agrees to take whatever he perscribes. Meanwhile the advice we are given is not to let all the accusations, the insults, even the rumour spreading get to us. "Don't argue, avoid confrontations as a top priority". Oh yeah?! So I serve her lunch ("late"), let her go on babbling, but I notice at the end of the meal she thanks me and says "it was delicious". I wish I could regard this as progress, but I am sceptical.