A very unusual couple of days have passed here in Aberdeen.
Hubby and I spent various portions of the week prepping for my parents' visit: doing laundry, scrubbing bathroom, plotting trips and adventures for their 4 days with us—part of their two-week UK roadtrip.
We didn't hear a peep from them for their first week of travel, and lots happened in that time we needed to tell them:
Before we left Canada this spring, my Nana, dad's mom, was diagnosed with advanced stomach cancer. This on top of early dimensia and alzheimers. Knowing she may not be around by Christmas, I had a chance to say goodbye in July.
When dad and mom left home a week ago today Nana was eating very little, losing weight rapidly, but still living independently and doing alright.
On Tuesday we learned that things had taken a bad turn.
On Wednesday my aunt sent photos of Nana, her dentures out, her weight below 100lbs. She looked like a toothless skeleton with dyed black hair splayed out on a pillow.
On Thursday my aunt administered the first doses of morphene and, between visitors, the family started to get things in order. My aunt sent an urgent email: could we fax over a document with Dad's signature handing over his power of attorney, so that my uncle could empty Nana's bank account and make arrangements.
That evening when my parents arrived they were shocked that things had progressed so quickly. Dean had prepared the letter, Dad dated and signed it and we faxed it from the College en route to dinner that evening.
We had an amazing visit and polished off more than a bottle of wine while dad teasingly hassled the waitress,as usual. They told us about their time in York and Edinburgh and we filled them in on our Scottish life.
The next morning I got up early for my first shift at Starbucks, checked my email and learned that the fax we sent was not accepted by the bank—we had to courier a notarized letter with the account info written on it. Sheesh!
We divised a plan: Dean would type and print the new letter at his office and after my my morning shift I would call around to find a Notary. Then we could resume our afternoon itinerary of sightseeing.
Four hours later when I called home to tell the parents I was on my way, Mom informed me that dad had spent the morning in town going from solicitor to solicitor trying to find one who would notarize the letter. He was turned away from four offices (clients only!") before a young lawyer finally took pity on him and notarized it for free.
I was impressed with the efficiency of my parents in this new city and that they'd taken care of everything on their own! Off we went to fax and courier the letter. Even at its fastest, the letter would not arrive until Wednesday.
When we got home from our morning of trudging around Aberdeen end to end in the rain, the sun was beginning to come out. Perfect tourist weather. Thought I'd check my email once before we left for Dunottar Caslte.
To my dismay, I found another urgent email from my aunt. The letter we had faxed (& now couriered) was missing the account information again!
Mom and dad had not heard all my instructions that morning. The letter we had notarized was the same letter from the night before!
Thus, the process began all over again. We picked up Dean and the new, accurate letter. We returned to the solicitor's office, thankfully still open on a Friday afternoon, we returned to the post office, lined up again, couriered another letter.
The afternoon was gone, there was no time left to see sights and we were all exhausted. Not only that, it was clear my dad would not be at ease until he had tried every possible means to make it home before his mom died.
I made dinner, they made phone calls.
Finally it was settled. They got on a flight from Heathrow to Vancouver on Sunday.
We needed a mellow evening. Slow walk through town and a viewing of Atonement (it's good). They were on the road to London by 7am today. Visit aborted.
It rained all day anyway.
