Month: October 2024

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Twelve Alzheimer’s Disease

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

I am in rather a low mood so please forgive me if this post is a little miserable. It’s been a tough week with one thing and another. My mother in law is in hospital in London again, this time with Pneumonia A doctor rang my husband and said that he thought my mother-in-law must be hallucinating because of the abusive things she was saying to staff in A & E. My husband had to explain that this is just her every day behaviour. She has now been abusive to every nurse on the ward and, when a woman visiting another patient offered her a chocolate biscuit she went ballistic. My husband has been to see her almost every day but my mother-in-laws tells anyone who will listen that he doesn’t even ring to see how she is. He speaks to her multiple times every single day of the year. My husband’s brothers both live overseas but also speak to her daily and are coming over to see her as it is her ninetieth birthday in a week or so and they had a celebratory dinner planned. I haven’t been visiting her. My mother-in-law, as you may have gathered, is a complex and difficult person and I don’t fancy being in the firing line.

Today I got up early and did some housework, washing and ironing. At 11am I loaded my car with my vacuum cleaner, mop and bucket and drove for two minutes which is all the time it takes to get to Mum and Dad’s, I prefer to walk but obviously I can’t carry so many cumbersome items. Dad timed the Tesco delivery arrival with my visit so I vacuumed their house, mopped the kitchen floor, put the laundry mountain away and then dealt with the grocery delivery. I was standing in the hallway with an enormously heavy crate and mum just would not move out of my way “go around me” she said. I couldn’t without banging into her. Now my shoulder is killing me.

On Tuesday I took my parents to the memory clinic at the local hospital. Getting Mum into the car was an ordeal but we managed it. I decided that I was going to accompany my parents into the actual appointment rather than waiting in the reception area for them as I usually do. The consultation was with a psychiatrist. Dad had changed the batteries in Mum’s hearing aids that morning but she still could not hear a thing or follow the conversation at all. She was sitting right next to the doctor and just smiling vacantly at everything he said. It felt really sad and undignified. The doctor asked if mum is still driving. Thank goodness she has never driven so we haven’t had the same battle that some of my friend’s have had of persuading their parents that they are no longer safe on the roads. Then he spoke about her having a will and Power of Attorney. He told us that Mum’s recent brain scan showed that her Hippocampus, the part of the brain associated with memory, has shrunk considerably and gave her a diagnoses of Alzheimer’s Disease which was not entirely unexpected but still difficult to hear. He asked Dad if they are managing and Dad replied yes. I interjected at this point because, despite Dad’s heroic efforts, this isn’t quite true. Mum is not washing anymore and can’t get in the bath or shower. I don’t mind washing Mum’s hair but I am not comfortable with giving her a more intimate wash and they are still refusing to have a carer in to help. Throughout this dementia “journey” I have found that my parents prefer everything to be a secret and this attitude is proving a huge barrier to them receiving appropriate assistance. The psychiatrist said they should contact social services. I asked if he could organise a referral himself and he agreed. Dad has rung the district nurse multiple times about some hygiene-related issues that Mum is having but we can’t even get a phone call back.

So, two frail, elderly ladies, one in hospital and one being cared for at home. Meanwhile my aunt, almost ninety, is zipping around here, there and everywhere in her car, looking very “with it” as she says right down to her Zara outfits and sparkly nail polish. Dad is still as sharp as a tack but has had to give up his own interests to look after Mum. Life is not always easy but like, thousands of other families, we are muddling along.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

This Week I Have Been…. Gripping Reads, Chilling Viewing & a Spooky Podcast

On By samanthaIn GOING OUTLeave a comment

Reading – The Woman Who Lied by Claire Douglas

I recently reviewed The Wrong Sister by Claire Douglas which was a real page-turner. The Woman Who Lied is even more gripping, I thought. There are so many inexpensive thrillers available for Kindle, usually described as “completely gripping” and “unputdownable” but so many of them aren’t very well written or have big plot holes. Like most readers, if find a book I enjoy then I am likely to read more of that author’s work.

Emilia is a successful author of nine crime novels featuring a fictional detective called Miranda Moody. The ninth book is just about to be published and Emilia has a surprising storyline planned for the tenth and final novel in the series. The fruits of her labour have bought her a huge home in Richmond which she shares with her second husband, Elliot and her children Jasmine and Wilfy. Emilia’s first husband left her for her former friend Kristen. Ottilie, Emilia’s long standing friend from boarding school lives nearby and often visits so that they can bitch about Kristen. Emilia has recently made a new friend, another mother at at Wilfy’s school, Louise, herself a detective with The Metropolitan Police, a useful contact to have when you’re a crime novelist.

One day, a harassed Emilia is on her way to a meeting with her agent when her bus is evacuated. Something begins to niggle, didn’t the exact same thing happen in one of her early Miranda Moody books? Surely just a coincidence. Then things begin to get really sinister, skylights open by themselves in the house, funeral wreaths are left for Emilia and that’s just the tame stuff. If you have a virtual assistant in your home, especially an Alexa, you may wish to scrap it after reading this book. Unfortunately, in order to find out who is terrorising her, Emilia is going to have to divulge a pretty big secret of her own. Lots of red herrings keep the reader guessing to almost the last page.

Watching –.Baby Ruby on Netfilx

Baby Ruby is listed under the horror section on Netflix and there are many typical horror elements but it is really a film about post natal psychosis. If you are pregnant you may wish to give it a miss. Jo, a French woman living in the US (played by Noemie Merlant), has a successful lifestyle blog, Love, Josephine. Here she posts the usual influencer pictures of herself in pretty outfits, her home looking pristine and healthy meals she has of course rustled up from scratch. Her last post is for her baby shower which she threw for herself as she doesn’t trust anybody else to do it as perfectly as she can. Jo and her husband, Spencer, are excited about their impending arrival, their first baby, and there is no reason to think anything is amiss. Then, Jo has an odd encounter with a new mother in a baby store and things begin to unravel.

When she does make an appearance, Baby Ruby herself is the cutest little thing. She looks like she should be wearing the cap of an acorn on her head and be living in a forest as a pixie However, she is a non-stop crier and Jo is soon exhausted. Motherhood has no respect for Jo’s perfectionism. Her colleague impatiently asks when she will be posting a picture of her new baby as the readers (and no doubt sponsors) are waiting in anticipation but Jo just has no interest, she is teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown.

Even at the end of the film it is difficult for the viewer to discern what was real and what formed part of Jo’s delusion. At first it’s not clear whether she has stumbled upon some sort of witches coven or whether it’s all in her head. Is it some sort of Rosemary’s Baby situation or is Jo unwell? I found this film really frightening and didn’t entirely understand the ending but the plot was compelling.

Listened To –Classic Ghost Stories by Tony Walker on Apple Itunes

As it is the month of Halloween it seems fitting to recommend a spooky stories podcast and this one really is top notch. The title of the podcast, Classic Ghost Stories is slightly misleading because the story I listened to today, The Premonition by Lewis Darley, was set in around 2016 and takes place in modern day Bristol so not yet a classic. I particularly enjoyed the fact that Walker interviewed Lewis Darley after the reading and we found out a little about his inspiration and other creative works. Of course most of the authors featured are long since deceased but the stories have stood the test of time. I have enjoyed every one so far, particularly Three Miles Up by Elizabeth Jane Howard and The Work of Evil by William Croft Dickinson. Walker narrates beautifully making this podcast a delight to listen to and I am happy to see there are five seasons so I have a lot of supernatural scariness to catch up on.

.Thanks for reading

Samantha

Cover Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

A Beginner’s Tale: Core Fitness Struggles

On By samanthaIn HEALTHLeave a comment

I joined the gym a few months ago and my membership gives me access to any number of scary-sounding exercise classes. Most of those I would be interested in attending fall on my working days so I am left with “Core Fitness”. I am looking to improve my core strength and stability so this sounded perfect.

The first week I went along, the class was packed and I couldn’t believe how difficult I found it. I was by far the least coordinated in the group although I later found out some of the other women (they are all women) have been attending this class for years. There were lots of yoga poses involved and everybody else seemed to know exactly what these were. For the following five days the muscles in my abdomen were killing me. I have started watching some YouTube videos where I can learn how to do the exercises correctly without injuring myself and in the privacy of my own bedroom. After my fourth class, I began to feel a little more confident. Then, the Swiss Balls appeared and all was lost. Michelle, the instructor, tells us we are going to be using the balls and the entire class erupts in a sort of synchronised groan. I had no clue what was going on. Then Michelle distributed the inflatable balls. I am given the largest one. She tells me I am tall and therefore need the super sized ball. I am five foot eight inches tall, not six foot five. I lie on top of it and don’t feel safe at all, wobbling all over the place and my feet don’t reach the floor. I have never done this type of exercise at all and this wasn’t a very successful first attempt. In the end I did the exercises on the mat, putting the inflatable to one side. I left feeling really quite humiliated.

The following week I forced myself to go back, hoping the wretched balls wouldn’t feature again. Unfortunately they did and we were told to go to the equipment cupboard and select one appropriate for our height. One of the other women, who I had never even spoken to before, passed me a smaller ball and told me she had felt really sorry for me the previous week. Then another women piped up that she had too and that she was really impressed that I kept going. I thought it was so kind of them to take the time to say something encouraging. We all got in our rows and the woman to my left was told that she needed the moon-sized ball but she actually refused to take it. It was still a wobbly workout but I managed the exercises much better on the smaller ball and this time left feeling pleased that I’d made the effort.

I have missed a month of my classes due to working additional days and my never-ending cough but I returned yesterday and, sure enough, the Swiss Balls, were rolled out. I think I will have to find another class if this continues. I managed the exercises reasonably well but the balls are filthy as is the gym floor, covered in other people’s hair. There isn’t really enough space for all of us either. After my class ended one of the women asked me if I would like to join her walking group one day. There are some really nice people around.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

Cover Image by Nhi Nguyễn Tường from Pixabay

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Eleven – A Long List of Lasts

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

When my mum was younger she was such a busy person, she had a variety of different jobs, secretary, school dinner lady (why are they never called lunch ladies?), barmaid and she would sometimes do a little bit of cleaning for neighbours or feed their pets when they were away. There wasn’t a single day of my childhood that we didn’t have a hot meal, maybe not always from scratch, Mr Brains Faggots and Findus crispy pancakes would feature occasionally but most of the time she’d cook something time consuming after being at work all day. We didn’t have a car so she would have to carry the food shopping back, her palms often red from where the plastic bags had been digging in. She would take evening classes in bizarre things like making pictures out of copper and rush off to meet friends, especially my lovely Godmother, Jo, who died a few years ago just after her one hundredth birthday. Also my friend’s mum, R, who herself sadly now has memory problems and stoically dealt with breast cancer in her late eighties, making less fuss than I would over a stubbed toe. My Mum spoke to R on the phone most Sundays until a couple of years ago but now their forty plus year friendship seems to have been erased from both their memories.

Jo, or Josephine, was about twelve years older than my mum and had never married. Her fiancé had been killed during the war. They met when they both worked for a Greek shipping company. Jo lived on the top two floors of a beautiful terraced town house in Pimlico, her brother and his wife lived on the lower floors. Mum, myself and my twin brother would take The Tube into London to visit Jo, sometimes staying for a few days in the summer. I think my Dad must have been on one of his Open University summer course at this point. In the summer we would go to St James’ Park and Kensington Gardens. In the winter we would go and see the Christmas lights and the Selfridges windows. We’d catch the number 24 bus from Victoria. Jo and her sisters, Baba and Pat, would visit us at our little semi in Hornchurch and my mum would get flustered, cleaning madly before they arrived. She would always cook a huge roast. Jo would always wear one of her many navy blue dresses, usually from Peter Jones. Happy days. Jo died in a nursing home during the pandemic, I couldn’t even attend her funeral. She didn’t know who I was when I last visited her but she looked at a picture of Mum and said “that’s my friend”. It was very moving.

This post has rather gone off tangent but what I wanted to write about was how sad it is when the last time for doing something you loved has been and gone and perhaps you haven’t even realised. Mum will never go into London again, will never see her friend Jo again, never see R again, never cook a roast again (although she helps Dad prepare their meal every evening by peeling the vegetables) . She’ll never again come striding into view, weighed down by grocery shopping. But she is still here. Maybe she can only walk a few steps and perhaps she doesn’t really know what is going on but she and Dad still love each other and still follow their little routines. She still sounds happy to hear my voice when I ring. Less happy to see me in person because she doesn’t like me doing their housework. Life has become very small for Mum and therefore for Dad also, but it is still worth living. Find time to do what you love while you can.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Photo of Pimlico by Lisa van Vliet on Unsplash