Make 'em laugh and dodge the muck

The Aspie teen has, as I type, completed his English work for the day and is getting himself some culture (more than his usual serving from a tub of yoghurt *boom tish* ) and is watching the 1952 film version of The Importance of being Earnest.

He loves these older Brit comedic films; there's a style, a particular fashion in their making that seems to appeal to him and his sense of humour while offering no threats or anxieties.
And he needs a bit of humour in his life at the moment.

Dad has yet another chest infection and several new medications.
Hubby put the prescriptions into the chemist and stupidly assumed they'd been all filled and started following the new medication regime.
Dad is on a bajillion tablets at eleventy thousand times each day - before meals, after meals, with meals, between meals - not to mention the 4 hourly nebulisers, puffers and pain relief.
He has 10 different meds at brekkie alone - some before, some after, some with his food - all which have to be broken into tiny pieces for him to swallow which takes at least 5 tiny bird-like sips of fluid before he can get the message to his gag reflex to work.
Then, this weekend he has started on thickened fluids as he is unable to swallow without choking on fluids now.
Hubby double checked and found they hadn't filled the antibiotics - when he went back they said they didn't have them in stock, that we'd have to wait until Monday.

Dad has started going downhill mentally, refusing to eat and drink, doing silly things like emptying his hot water bottle into the waste paper basket by his chair or throwing his bedlinen onto the floor and tossing his water onto it , refusing to stand/walk, etc.
And of course he's doubly incontinent - I won't share the details but suffice to say Aspie teen freaks out and seeks respite in the backyard or up a tree while we deal with the filth.
We have tried to feed Dad, encouraged him to drink and he refuses, closing his mouth, calling us names, lashing out with his fists and feet.
You gotta respect a bloke with feet as blue as a Smurf who can manage to do that.

So, we're indulging in Fox Classics comedies like On The Buses, 'Allo 'Allo, Are You Being Served?, and the odd genuine film, classic like today's The Importance of being Earnest. 

If ya don't eat ya don't shyte, if ya don't shyte ya die!

My Dad, who lives with us, is very ill.
Apart from the fact he's just turned 87 and has many long-term health issues including Bronchiectasis, emphysema, Pulmonary Fibrosis and a hair cut he can't do a damn thing with, he's recently developed a delightful chest infection that is very clingy and needy.
Yes, it's good old Pseudomonas come to visit again, clinging on for dear life and needing another course of anti-biotics.
This visitor pops in at least twice during Winter, sometimes more frequently depending on how social Dad has been and dared to set his big toe beyond the front step of the house in the wheelchair.
Dad has also, of late, tried to stop eating to the extent he's now on mashed/vitamised food I end up spooning down his gullet.
Thick, rich creamy risottos with chicken, bacon, mushroom and leeks, chicken casseroles made with coconut milk,  steak stews with bacon, mushrooms, vegies and whipped spuds with cream cheese. And when he doesn't eat brekkie weetbix thickens home-made soups brimming with vegies and fresh, fattening goodies but vitamised to get past his lips.
Oh, yes, I've turned into Delia for the debilitated, Nigella for the nursing home, Jamie for the geriatric.
Give me a piece of bread, a slice of tomato and a bent paper clip and you, too, can witness the MacGyver of the kitchen turn bollocks into a banquet!
Aspie teen, Hubby and I really like Dad's GP ; he's blunt, straight to the point and tells it as it is without any nonsense.
Several times he's told Dad to eat but today he was blunter than usual.
He told him that if he didn't eat he'd die.
Dad pondered it and replied,
"But that's going to happen sooner or later."
The GP shot back,
"In your case it'll be sooner rather than later. We could speak to a speechie about a naso-gastric tube...?"
Bless his little cotton socks, Dad has just cleaned up 3 pieces of toast.