Been worrying all night about that last posting, thinking it sounded like I’m making sport of my mother. Which I’m not. Please know I’m not. But it's not going to be removed because it’s daily life reality at the moment. My brother would tell you.
She knows she’s lost some of her wits, along with her short term memory. Says she has ‘gaps’ in her head. Which is absolutely normal for her age, let's face it. We just pray she’s not incipient Alzheimer’s. She has all the symptoms but not all at the same time. I keep jollying her along and telling her how amazingly she’s doing, even if she can’t see or hear or think properly, or walk more than a few yards – and that’s clinging to her wheeled trolley.
So when it comes to the news, which keeps her connected to the world, and which she likes to hear every hour because she can’t remember what it said on the last one, it’s got to be the radio. She forgets that my portable telly is too small for her – she can’t see what’s going on or follow the speech. So she only gets mad and thumps the table. If we can find a reasonably slow bulletin like Radio 3 or 4, that’s better and she can sit with head bent, concentrating furiously. And I’ll fill in the gaps. And again, after the next one, and so on and so on.
She has an amazing scanning mouse with a scart connection into the telly, (you can get one with a usb connection, and have b/w or colour) to sit scanning the newspaper or the post, reading it on the screen 200 x enlarged. But it's hard work. The individual letters still keep jumping about. She gives up after a line or two. And it doesn’t work on my telly. Only on a new one like hers.
There’s been no time to do anything other than look after her and write myself into a different space when she’s napping. You lot out there are my support network, whether you know it or not.
Haven't played the piano for her cos I'm scared. So out of practice she'll shout at me. Need to practise before her next visit. No sewing, no shopping, no library, except an occasional dive down to the corner shop (8 miles away) if she promises not to forget I’ve gone out for half an hour. Last time I went out while she was napping, I came back to find her in a rare old panic, hollering up the stairs. She'd mistaken an earlier shopping bag for hen corn or vice versa, thought I was back from shops but not answering. Another time she woke up having completely forgotten I was out getting her prescription, and was scared stiff.
We only get her out when it’s not raining. Or windy. Or cold. Not as much as I’d like to do with her. It’s better in summer. I got a carer to sit with her for three hours the other week, someone she knew and was comfortable with. In the middle of my shopping/prescriptions/library stuff I sat in wonderful autumn sunshine eating a huge sausage roll in the carpark behind the town hall, idling away half an hour, completely vacant, just because I could.
I’m not sorry for myself. Might sound like a whinge, but when I said it was a privilege to look after her, I meant it. She deserves it. But sometimes she says life in a care home would be interesting. A nearby place had been recommended to me so I investigated recently and found it really good – lively atmosphere, good smell, decent ratio of carers to clients etc etc. Lots of people to talk to and places to visit. They even did a pub lunch once a week. They would take her to church on Sunday if she was up to it. Being only a few miles from my Out in the Sticks, I could visit her all the time. Manager seemed excellent. Mother could even have her morning sherry and evening vermouth, no questions asked. In fact she wouldn't be alone in that. Great.
We were invited for lunch there next day. Halfway through it she looked away at the big bay window, then as she turned back a huge shudder hit her. I asked what was the matter. Tell you later, she said in a low voice.
Our visit wasn’t helped by
a) it was the Manager’s day off ( we hadn’t been told beforehand) and there wasn’t anyone else for mother to talk to as they were all busy chasing around, it being mealtime,
b) people having lunch in their rooms were pressing their buzzers which automatically repeated LOUDLY every twenty seconds until switched off, and
c) there were two others at our table, one deaf and the other uncommunicative, and everybody else was at one long table having a very nasty argument, atmosphere deadly. I was horrified.
Driving away, I asked how she felt about it all. (And she hadn’t heard the Argument behind her.) She hesitated, said it would take a minute to find the words. So I said
Shall I tell you what I think, then?
Yes please.
I think you’re not ready for that.
Oh Thank God you said that.
And asking her about the shudder, she replied that for a moment she’d thought This Is It. This is My Life Now. And it had been a horrible feeling. Says it all.
So we’re all agreed she would have to be a whole lot worse than she is, to be in a home. Even a nice one.
But she goes home tomorrow for a fortnight, now we’ve set up evening carers to put her safely to bed (one day I’ll tell you why she’s never to be trusted to do her own medicines any more) and do the commode, eye drops, teeth cleaning, turn electric blanket off etc etc. I'm also working on the companionship aspect while she's there, someone to pop in and talk to her, but she's always sceptical about this idea. I think she'd rather nap, and have quiet times on her own schedule. Isn't even convinced of the necessity of the evening carer, but we family will not allow her home without one, so that's that.
I shall sleep for two days then do a mad tidy up and then perhaps I’ll actually do some sewing. Will catch up on Wallander videos (the real one, not our upstart Kenneth). Might even drink more wine than is good for me. Might even get ratted one night. Might even play the piano.
No wonder I think Ratty looks cute.
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