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