This morning The Dad had an appointment at the hospital to get some tests done on his chest. The word 'Asbestosis' had been bandied about by his GP, so listening to him coughing on and off last night did little to dispel the nagging voices of worry in the back of my mind. His cheery statement about sanding down sheets of Asbestos as an apprentice didn't help allay my concerns either.
To further enliven proceedings, he has Alzheimer's. I got him up in plenty of time to be picked up by The Mum* at 8.30 for a 9.15 appointment. Unfortunately I had to be in the office for 8.30 this morning so I had to leave his house around 8.00. He was suited, booted and ready to go. What could go wrong in half an hour?
Cue stressed out call from The Mum at 8.15. She'd arrived to pick him up and the house was empty. Apparently he'd decided to head off to see his friend, having forgotten all about said appointment, but helpfully left his phone at home.
Once he'd been tracked down, all was well and the hospital is broadly happy that he's not going to keel over tomorrow (he finds it hilarious that they think he might).
All we have to do now is await the arrival of the initial test results and turn up for another couple of tests/scans in a couple of weeks. Good fortune runs in our family, so I know it'll be OK.
* If my parents were on facebook (and I thank my lucky stars that they're not), their relationship would definitely qualify as 'it's complicated'.