Where's Betty?

Today has been one of those trying days . My mother was unwell last night but refused a doctor. I put her and dad to bed. He kept asking is your mum ok? I put him to bed with the words do not get up, do not let the bed get wet. Something as a child, I never imagined having to say to my dad, my kids yes, but not my dad. I left them and said ring early if you are ok otherwise ill be back. No call by 7 so I went back. She was still ill. Well not ill but really ill. She still said she was fine just a touch of a bug. Ambulance arrived, checked her, off to hospital for her. But then , dad. What to do? I can't get to hospital to make sure she is ok, when he refuses to get up. Two hours later I ring other half. Despite being in a really important meeting, and I mean life changing meeting, he came and helped. We got dad up. Cleaned him, stripped the bed, dressed him and kept answering questions..... Where your mum? Whŷ are you not at work? Is Peter not working? Is there more sugar for my tea? Trying to tell a man with an attention span of less than a goldfish that he is going into respite, thanks Rachel super social worker for sorting that at no notice, 30 times in 20 minutes what is happening. We thought he had it then he asked for his lunch.....not a clue . After repeating and reapeating she needs to go to hospital for medicine, he still didn't get it. Two hours later on arrival at respite care he still asked where's Betty? I wish her a speedy recovery because he has no idea where she is..........and misses her

X Ray Specs

Apologies for the delay in recalling my trip to the optician. I have tried and tried to make this a serious post but it still makes me laugh thinking about this particular adventure. Not cruel but taking any joy I can from the situation. Well he needed his eyes testing. I am roped in as official driver. Be warned all of you children who used mum or dads taxi, it will come back to haunt you. Mum goes in, I take dad to hardware store. Bizarre conversations ensue. We had gone to buy a clock but it took 30 mins as I was trying to get him interested in things in the shop. This is the man who built supermarkets, homes and was a specialist in restoration. On this day he clung to the bird food stall , wide eyed obviously frightened. I kept checking back on him every few seconds. We bought a clock and some cake tin liners , he does like cake. Then we got to the opticians, maybe I am mean but I couldn't resist trying the display glasses on him. The shop had a display of sunglasses in the window. So Clem became Roy Orbisson, well cool, but he said he could not see. So I tried the biggest comedy frames on him. These are really good I can see everything, came the reply. I told him they had no lenses in. Of course they do , he just didn't realise they were plain glass. So as I tried lots of pairs on him, I also cleaned his usual glasses. Eventually I put his glasses back on. These are fabulous so much better, came the response. Then we had his test, his optician was fantastic . He does need new glasses. But given he can't tell the difference between his readers and long vision lenses we just bought one pair. I kept repeating the optician questions, he just said sometimes I examine and rely on results rather than opinion, in a very kind way that meant. LISTEN STOP YOU ARE NOT HELPING. He did get new glasses, very trendy ones which he would hate, but allow the rest of us to tell whether he is wearing readers or not. I suppose you had to be there, but trying fake glasses on a man with severe dementia was a highlight of the weekend.

Inspired by Dirty Dancing ?

It has taken months to get my mum to face the possibility that my dad may need full time care. However she came round to the idea and yesterday took a trip to a dementia suitable home, very local. I had high hopes as his current respite Center is 40 minutes away.

 I rang last night and she would not discuss it, just said she was too upset to discuss. Strange, everyone I spoke to who had relatives in the home had really good reviews. It was too late to go round so I had to leave her.

 Tonight I popped round for a few minutes to drop off shopping so I asked why she was upset. She said the home was lovely, the rooms were nice and the lounge fantastic. I am not the brightest at times, so I asked what was the problem?

 Was is smelly?? (she has a heightened sense of smell, which unfortunately I inherited ) answer no. Was it dirty? She does appreciate a clean place, answer not that I noticed.

 Well as you can imagine I am now intrigued. Nice rooms, clean what more could you ask?

Well, what more could you say in this case.... Apparently whilst in the lounge she mentioned the D word. She admitted to strangers, that embarrassing illness that comes with greater longevity...... He has dementia!

 Well, blow me down, they didn't only go and show her the dementia day lounge. A small ante room to the lounge, no TV, although it has a window, with one small couch. They don't let them mix!!!!! No D folk on the main lounge!!!

 And that is why she is upset. I am sure there are many good care homes across the borough I live it, but was recommended, that's wrong. My dad and other dementia suffers are not second class citizens. They are people who have a condition. To their families they are the same as always. Only we can laugh at their stupidity at times, they laugh at times at their memory, if you are lucky...........but in the words of Patrick Swayzee ......nobody puts baby (or parents) in a corner!!!! He won't be going there.

A cracking day out

I usually post about my father, but today it's all mother related. As is usual on a Saturday I take her for her hair done whilst I clemsit. He was really bright today. Now more unstable on his feet, he still managed the bathroom alone, and managed to stand to ask, very politely , for a brew. But then I went to pick her up from her weekly hair appointment and take her for the "big shop" . Don't worry we made sure he was safe first. We spent 50 minutes at the fish counter in morrisons. Another 20 at the veg section, and even longer perusing meats and cooked goods. She has enough food for a few weeks. On the way home she repeatedly thanked me for taking her out. Very odd. It's not about the weekly shop though is it. It's about a few hours of normality where every decision is not about keeping another person safe. That must very exhausting. Imagine an adult with the skills of a 2 year old, and you as main carer at 86, being asked to do it all. Yes day care come for 20 minutes four days a week, but is that enough? Admitting you can no longer do it is more upsetting to admit than the realisation that dementia is only going to get worse. On a positive note, they loved the tea she bought and she may even treat herself to the mini bottle of red wine. I told her to have two!!!!