Substandard

Written for https://jimadamsauthordotcom.wordpress.com/2026/02/26/thursday-inspiration-321-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-heartbreaker/

Mary leant against her walking frame, her identity stripped from her. Without her oxygen, this long corridor would be the last straw.

She never liked care homes, and this one would be no different. Tepid dinners, which always smelt of old cabbage, with a pudding resembling frog spawn for afters. She begged her son for a sandwich from Tesco and a bag of sweets because she was wasting away.

However, the council was renovating her kitchen. She had no choice; she wasn’t mobile enough to look after herself. With everyone working, she had to endure the substandard service.

‘Try to use the walker,’ the carer said.

‘No! Can’t you see I’m on oxygen! You need to get me a wheelchair. I heard that poor lady the other day screaming for help. Did anyone help her? No, my granddaughter did your job.’

‘I’ll let the manager know, but you are . . .’

‘I want a wheelchair!’

‘Alright, I’ll get you it. Calm down, Mrs Wheeton.’

Brought into the dayroom, Mary sat next to her friend.

‘You alright?’ Maud asked.

‘Yea,’ Mary said. ‘Looking forward to a sing song.’