Yesterday’s visit was the first for a fortnight. We went, even though we are still recovering from whatever virus it is that we’ve both had, as I was keen to re-establish normal parameters as fast as possible.
My mother had said on the phone that the hospital visit would take months to recover from and I think she’s quite right. She fell asleep immediately after lunch, as soon as she sat in her easy chair. Where she has been varies, depending on how tired she is. Sometimes it’s a sanatorium, sometimes a nursing home, occasionally a hospital. One thing that has almost shocked me is how vicious verbally she has been about the lady with senile dementia in the bed next to hers. She has bitterly upbraided her for talking incessantly, so no one could think, for raving dementedly, for taking up all the time and attention, in short, for doing everything she has herself done over the last three and a half years. ‘Why do we have to put up with such people? she demanded to know, ‘Can they not inject her or something?’
Quite.
However exasperating this is, the diminution of her metal abilities caused by her exhaustion, or the progression of the disease, is now very apparent. She asked if we had any cats left and told me in the next breath to make sure to put her cat down when she died. He, bless him, is still plodding on, waiting patiently for some chicken (which I have stopped sneaking for him, I just cut him a slice off our chicken breast, if no one likes it they can lump it, I think he deserves a Dickens medal at least) or happily drinking thoughtfully from muddy puddles in the yard.
In these later stages of the disease my mother is notably polarised, she is either suffering, exhausted old lady, struggling to breathe (although tests of her after two hours without oxygen have never read less than 78% of normal) or strident dictator, slightly to the right of Genghis Khan and with a strop on. It is getting harder to distract her and steer the conversation towards happier times, or What We Did In The War, as she progressively loses control of her emotions.
She still, however, can enjoy a meal, I have made sure her fridge is full of all the best luxury foods that she enjoys. I think it’s probably important anyway, as we all get older, to have less quantity of food and better quality. She also enjoys the baby photographs which are all arrayed on a table opposite her chair.
I hope fervently that something happens to carry her off before the money runs out at the end of April. I think going into a home would kill her, quite quickly and not happily.
I began this series of dementia diaries in the hope that my experience for the second time of dealing with dementia in a family member, would be enlightening for anyone chucked into the slough of despond that dealing with this disease can be. I have avoided giving advice because everyone is different, all I can say is what did or didn’t work for me. But I do think now that placing someone in residential care may be easier for them when they are compos mentis enough to adapt to the change and accept it. Whilst I thought initially that a person whose disease was so far advanced that they would be unaware of their surroundings would be happier moved elsewhere, my observation of my mother’s reaction to her hospital visit, even given that she thought she was on a cruise ship, has altered my opinion. How do you relax in a place that starts the day at 6.30, with a cold wet flannel and metal trolleys playing dodgems with metal beds? The entertainment might be superb, it’s the volume that’s the problem.
It’s not the only one. This Thursday we are more tired than we have been for a long time. I don’t know whether it’s the break to be ill in, accumulated exhaustion or just the very basic fact that two pensioners looking after someone insane is a very hard call indeed.
We have been listening to radio programmes about care of the elderly in other countries with some interest, as we plod to and fro. Japan, a country with some of the oldest residents in the world, seems to have a system going that everyone pays in to on retirement and which takes the responsibility off the shoulders of relatives. What do they do where you live?
I have also refrained from expressing political opinions in this series. Nevertheless I feel we need to recognise that we are all living longer, all round the world. I think it is wonderful that we have meetings about taking care of the planet and all the species on it. I think we need to have meetings about the longevity of the dominant species and ways in which to make this an asset rather than a problem. Old people have resources that younger people do not; they know a lot of stuff from first hand experience. Here we are on the Internet, sharing knowledge. One of the traits that has made us the dominant species is our ability to share knowledge by writing things down; no one has to invent the wheel because it’s already been invented and we know about it. So, how can we use this knowledge to turn a big problem into a great resource?
I’m trying to do my bit. Any suggestions?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The green green grass of home.