I've been advised to shield, yet my dad has needed help, I've tried to minimise the risks.
I've had to say no I cant do a lot of things hes asked because they're purely for his convenience.
Hes had an issue which has meant hes been in hospital for almost a month. I have done more than I should have in the circumstances. I've left myself quite vulnerable but it's been the only way to ensure his needs have been met.
Hes had a terrible cough, but excused this as a cough caused by not smoking like he usually would...seems reasonable.
So he called me yesterday and said that he would be allowed to go home, and he wanted me to collect him.
I said no, but only because I was going to put his bedding on, and make my first trip to the shops since lockdown for his food.
Its taken so long to do his bedding because I've had to wash it 4 times because it was disgusting, he hasn't washed it once since he got it last August and his home is in such a state it makes me unwell (I have severe asthma, an allergy to dust and mould too- all of which he has in an abundance)
So I'd decided if I could double up a bed trip and a shopping trip together.
I see him, from a distance, coughing away. I mention the cough again. Ask if hes ok otherwise before I head out.
Today in phone conversation, he tells me that in hospital, 3 other people in his bay were diagnosed with Covid. Apparently 2 were either side of his bed, but not to worry. He had a covid test right away, and it was negative he says, and they'll test me again when I have another check up because it can take time to show up.
So here I am, risking my health to ensure my dads cared for knowing each time I go in his home that I risk needing even more steroids or another chest infection, but resigning myself to the fact that he has no one else. FWIW he is unwell, but doesnt meet the exceptionally clinically vulnerable criteria.
He knows that the chances are, if I caught COVID19 I'd probably die, yet he has possibly been exposed to it, and didnt tell me, but expected me to go and fucking collect him in my tiny little car and take him home.
I dint want to be that mumsnet cliche, but I'm fuming. How fucking dare he?
I have OCD and I have been so careful, and I'm kicking myself because by doing something that I thought was kind, I may have just killed myself off, what about my daughter? What about my husband?
How the fuck can he do that to his daughter?