Mrs PantyHead

I’ve arrived in London at my newest G.A.P.E role. Here are the things The Agency didn’t tell me:

- My new charge would wear a Rod Stewart style wig. At the end of the day the wig would be rested on her pillow (in the manner of a domestic pet) while she donned a replacement pair of knickers on her head. Henceforth I shall refer to her as Mrs PantyHead.

- PantyHead does not sleep lying down (which I find strangely vampiric) instead she will spend the day moving from armchair to armchair until finally sleeping in the armchair next to her bed. (On the plus side this saves on washing her sheets).

- PantyHead has suddenly developed mild incontinence and needs to ‘spend a penny’ constantly. The District Nurse thinks this could be a urinary tract infection, I think it is more to do with the fact that she believes herself to be dehydrated and has quaffed 2 glasses of water in about 10 minutes and ordered me to fill a jug of water (+2 more full water glasses) for next to her chair. (This has been an ongoing order over the next 1hour, I have now slowed her water supply as surely 2 litres in 1 hour is dangerous for cell osmosis or something.)

- In conjunction with my arrival PantyHead has been kitted out with heavy-duty sanitary pads to prevent further knicker-wettage, unfortunately I now have to remind her to go to the loo as I believe she will simply let fly in her “protection” as she refers her pads. She also rather alarmingly asked me if I would like to feel her pads to check they are not wet. I declined.

- PantyHead is obsessed with her Blood Pressure and pulse and has a cuff in each room with which to measure the changes. Accordingly she has some interesting theories on the relationship between food and her B.P i.e. she cannot eat food containing sugar as this makes her blood pressure too low and vice-versa she cannot eat food that involves any chewing as this makes her blood pressure too high.

- PantyHead has trouble swallowing her medication (which is a diuretic- I’m no medical expert but doesn’t a diuretic make one pass more water, hence the extensive knicker-wettage?). The problem with swallowing her meds is that her B.P gets too low and so in order to raise it she shuffles her feet around in a weird Rumplestiltskin moonwalk at the same time as swallowing her pill. This appears to work for her.

- PantyHead is a little confused. When I returned from my brief time off (2-4pm) we had to relocate her and all her possessions into her bedroom. Please bear in mind I had to carry all of these items through: a butt-donut to sit upon (also called a pile pillow?); 2 cushions; a rug (to accompany the rug already over her knees, in case of extreme frigidity, although it is mid-summer in sweltering London); a doorbell receiver with which to summon me (repeatedly); a cordless telephone (she is too deaf to converse on); 3 toothpicks; a box of tissues; a roll of bog roll; a notepad; a pen; her side table (on which to rest her 2 water glasses + jug of water); a pouffe; her commode armchair and her walking stick. After moving the afore mentioned items PantyHead asked me to draw the curtains and said she was going to sleep. About 30 minutes later she rang me to continue her water boarding and apologised for “waking me:”

PantyHead: Ooh, I’m sorry to wake you, but I need more water.

Me: DON’T WORRY I WASN’T SLEEPING. [Shouted at volume 100 in my best deaf geriatric voice]

PantyHead: [Looking startled] Why? Don’t you ever sleep?

Me: I WILL A BIT LATER, IT’S STILL VERY EARLY.

PantyHead: Really? [Rabbit in headlights startled] But what time will you go to sleep?

Me: AT ABOUT 10 P.M.
PantyHead: [Looking from me to the bedside clock and back to me] It’s 5 o’clock now.

Me: YES, IT’S 5 P.M, 5 O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON. [I gesture wildly towards the light streaming through the curtains and make flashing ‘5’ hands at her panty clad head]

PantyHead: I need more water. I think I’m dehydrated. The Doctor told me that I must drink lots of water…if I drink water I will be able to walk easily.

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All in all a cracking start. The previous (very lovely) Kiwi carer has said that occasionally PantyHead’s blood pressure drops so low that she can’t speak and then a game of charades ensues, I’ve been assured she is a terrible mime. Can’t wait for tomorrow…