The patient was 21 years old...pretty,plump,poor...but pleasant.
She had a straightforward tonsillitis...but looked exhausted and was a little tearful as I took the history.
"Okay...so what work do you do ?"
I care for my husband...
"Oh...okay...whats wrong with him then?"
He's got dementia...
"Dementia...right...hummh...you're 21...is that correct?"
Yes...
"If you don't mind me asking...how old is your husband?"
He's 53...
"Oh...right..."
We've been together for 7 years...I love him...
"Seven years ...hummh....so you were 14 when you met him?"
Yes...I moved in with him when I was 15...
She smiled shyly.
"What did your parents think about that...?"
Well....they thought he could help me look after them...
...my dad walks with crutches...
...and my mum has a mental illness...
"When did the dementia start to show...?"
Oh...about 4 years ago...when he was 49...
"I see....okay then...why does your dad walk with crutches...?"
I dunno...
"Whats wrong with your mum...?"
I dunno...
"Gosh....well...okay then...are you getting all the help you need to look after your husband...? Are your parents able to help you at all...?"
Well...my parents live with me and my husband now...cos I still care for them as well...
*sigh*
I gave myself a prescription for a large glass of red wine.
And a kit kat.
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