When carers can't care anymore

After 16 days and a failed procedure to sort out her physical problem my mother has been discharged. It's been an interesting two weeks. But apparently she is fit to be released with daily visits from CPN. I have left her with meals for a week, yes I will be visiting during this time but bulk cooking is easier. Today was great fun, I arrived with her shopping, no answer. I rang the doorbell and her landline and mobile no answer. I rang her friend, she wasn't there. So I rang Mr B who zoomed down to come in house with our keys. Even though she is my mother I do not like to use keys to her house unless agreed in advance. I think it is rude and would hate anyone to use keys to mine. She was snoring in bed. Apparently the nurse who visited has told her she is not mental!!!! I doubt the nurse would say this but it makes her feel happy. She is not dressed, at 3pm. However she had some toast at 8am. I stayed and made her lunch and her tea. She is a shadow of her self, constantly retelling things over and over. This is not normal. I asked about the voices and noises she was hearing in hospital. She says these have stopped but she is having altered thoughts, this is clear from her discussions. I asked what the nurse said about the voices. She said the nurse never asked so she never told her. I think I need to see the nurse. Not only is my dad in permenant care now, but my mother is also disappearing and if I don't get a referral to the psychiatrist who specialises in elderly I will be screaming soon. She is however much better now she is at home. However I can't be certain if this is because she won't tell me, the drugs working or she is genuinely better. On a positive note dad is thriving. How long though will it be allowed that elderly are left to care for spouses until they reach breaking point, families can intervene but GPs should spot the signs and not ignore them. The elderly are not just regular visitors wasting your time, they are making a cry for help which GPs need to pick up on and intervene.

When carers go bad

What a day! My mum, carer for Clem, was taken ill 10 days ago. After a trip in the fast flashing ambulance she was delivered at hospital. Did I go with her? No, I couldn't I had to arrange respite for dad. Husband called, Clem was got up, showered and dressed and dispatched to what I now call Daddy DayCare. Thanks to a fabulous social worker who arranged the placement in 30 minutes. In fact getting him up and out was harder. Social workers get a bad rap most days but his is faultless so far, after a stream of time wasters, case closers and patronisers we have struck gold this time. I finally arrived at hospital to be told they were waiting for a scan and blood tests as there appeared to be a problem with her gallbladder and pancreas. Phew, painful for her but straightforward to fix, hopefully. That was 28th Feb, Thursday. Last Saturday I went to visiting to be told she could come home, I immediately spoke to the consultant and advised of her situation. If she is released she won't come back, she will find an excuse as this means Getting respite again and she is reluctant to do this any time. He agreed to keep her in until the MRI scan. Then Sunday came........ Confusion, voices' conspiracies events, lectures, garden parties, parties, protests, deaths........all fabricated. In the last week she has imagined....but believes to be true My husband left taking the kids, this was quite offensive to him. I died, obviously not, my dad died but seemed fine when I saw him today. Her ex daughter in laws mum became her best friend... Think not. Her best friend spent two days singing happy birthday on the carpark....her eldest granddaughter lectured every ward in the hospital....she is a beautiful speaker ...... The list goes on.......a funny one my husband sees to prostitutes at night as his job. Why does he get all the fun dreams???? I took my dad to see her today, he has sever dementia. On the way back to Daddy Day care he said she looks unwell, and confused... She doesn't like to be on her own... Needless to say she has had a breakdown, that's what comes when society expects people to look after partners and siblings because it saves cash. In this case it is going cost the state so much more. Get well Betty, Happy Mothers Day..

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!!!!

Kicked out of exercise class!!!!

Well, it's been a while since my last post but events of today have left me speechless!

Today , as is normal for a Tuesday he goes to exercise class. This is one of his regular activities to keep him interacting with others and most importantly to give my mum a rest. I received a phone call from my mum, panicking, to say the exercise class had rung to say he was unwell and needed collecting urgently. Luckily I was working from home so I was local.

I arrived to be told by the people attending how ill he was, oh he is not himself, he is not right. He looked one of the healthiest there.

I got to him and he was distant ,but fine, even had a chat and asked why I was there.

When will people realise that an 85 year old stroke victim with severe dementia will have vacant days when they wobble on their feet. On the way home he asked why he went to the class as the young woman does not know what she is doing, she's new he kept saying.

Thanks to that overreaction, I had to return a very confused man home to a distraught wife.

One very annoyed daughter!