Tag: alzheimers

Time Flies at Supersonic Speed

On By samanthaIn FAMILYLeave a comment

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I’ve been ‘fraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m gettin’ older, too “Landslide”, Fleetwood Mac

I had a very strange experience yesterday. I was at a routine hospital appointment, waiting in a corridor to be called in. I suddenly remembered sitting the the exact same spot, outside the same room with my daughter when she was about seven years old. She will be twenty two tomorrow. I was overcome with the feeling that, if I turned my head, I would see my little seven year old daughter, wearing her stripy school pinafore, floppy hat and navy blue leather T Bar shoes sitting there next to me. I could feel her there, swinging her little legs, so palpably. I felt almost overcome by sadness at how quickly the years have passed.

In June 2025 I had three children living at home. My daughter was on work placement for her degree, my oldest son was preparing to move into a house with his partner and my youngest hadn’t yet gone off to university. Now they are all living away from home and my husband and I are rattling around in our house. Seeing my youngest go off to catch the train back to his university town after Christmas was hard, he has a whole other life that I know almost nothing about now. He is quite guarded about what he shares, everything is “chill” and fine apparently, I hope so.

I went to a drinks party at London Bridge on Saturday and, on the train back, there was a family of four sitting next to us. I could only see the husband and two grown up children as the mother was in my blind spot. All I could see of her were her badly scuffed boots, frayed trousers and shabby handbag which was odd because the rest of her family were dressed head to toe in expensive clothes. When we reached our destination the family stood up to get off as well and I saw the woman’s face and immediately realised that I knew her, she and I even had coffee at each other’s houses when my youngest son and her daughter were tiny and attending the same play group. I wondered if she spent all her time looking after the rest of her family and had failed to notice that she could do with a bit of TLC herself. I nearly said hello but then the penny dropped that it had been seventeen years since we had last spoken. We did that polite thing of pretending not to recognise each other. She was probably thinking that I haven’t worn too well myself! How could almost two decades pass so quickly?

I am feeling a little melancholy after Christmas. I think I probably also have a touch of Empty Nest Syndrome. It is my day off and I visited my parents who now need my help far more than my children. There is a solitary snow boot in the corner of their bedroom, it is covered in a thick blanket of dust. It’s been there for years. Today I decided I was going to insist it is finally thrown away. Dad stopped me saying Mum, who is totally housebound, might decided to go for a walk in the snow. In one boot? My highly intelligent Dad seems to have convinced himself that Mum is going to miraculously recover from her Alzheimer’s disease if he looks after her well enough. I did manage to throw away a dozen cans of air freshener though so my visit wasn’t a complete decluttering failure.

I have a letter from my grandmother in which she says time passes so quickly. It has been in my jewellery box for forty years and I have never been able to bring myself to re-read it. Now I know exactly what she meant. It seems as if in the blink of an eye a year has passed. As I drove home from the hospital a beautiful song called “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac came on the radio, it summed up my mood perfectly.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

Cover photo – A timepiece from the V & A Cartier exhibition

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Three

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIES3 Comments

My eighty-nine year old mother-in-law went into hospital for a day three weeks ago. Whilst there she caught a chest infection and has been bed bound on a geriatric ward ever since. My husband said that she is becoming weaker and weaker because she is just left, lying in bed all day. It is a London hospital and the nurses are no doubt busy but my mother-in-law has continually asked to get out of bed and have an assisted walk but it has only happened once in three weeks. There are posters up around the ward urging patients to get moving as, apparently, ten days in bed ages the muscles by ten years. My mother-in-law is far too frail to get out of bed without assistance.

My mother-in-law lives in a town house, only the kitchen is on the ground floor and a toilet. There are lots of steep stairs. My husband thinks that this vertical living has kept his mother fit until now. She does have Asthma and has recently been diagnosed with Dementia although this is not always apparent. We have been told that she still has “capacity” to make her own decisions. Over the past few years we have suggested that she move into sheltered housing, nearer us, but she refuses to leave London. To be honest, who can blame her? I would not like somebody telling me it is time to leave my home of many years. She has lived in the capital all her life, apart from when she was an evacuee in Oxford, the thought of moving to a little village in Kent seems dull to her. She describes where we live as “dead”. It really isn’t but it is a world away from the busy city. She has been having carers in twice a day to help her and it was once of these carers that insisted on taking her to the hospital and staying with her while she was admitted. This isn’t my own mum to write about but I think it is safe to say that she is a complex and sometimes difficult person and we are all wondering what is going to happen when she is discharged from hospital. It will be Christmas in a couple of days and it does not look like she will be going anywhere before then.

It would seem that a sensible solution would be for my mother-in-law would be to go into a care-home for a month or so while she regains her strength and then maybe she can return back to her own house. This would give my husband some time to organise some necessary alterations to the property. If she won’t leave her home then the ground floor will have to be turned into a sort of self contained apartment. Whether she would even be able to manage then is highly questionable. At the moment she is not strong enough to open the wrapper on a bar of chocolate. Perhaps a move to sheltered accommodation would have prevented the possible permanent move into care which is now on the cards.

My husband and I make an appointment to view the care home in our village. I am dreading it. I am looking more for my own mum than my mother-in-law and feel guilty . We meet with the manager who is very well versed on the financials and takes a long time patiently explaining everything to us. The cost per week is £1,850 for residents who have dementia. £1,750 for patients without a dementia diagnosis. So, for my mum and mother-in-law, the annual cost is an enormous £96,200 per year. Each resident must demonstrate that they can self fund for the first two years and then, if their savings run down sufficiently, the local council takes over the cost. The council do not pay anywhere as much as the privately funded residents – they pay £800 per week. So wealthy residents who pay fund their own care for more than two years are subsidising the council funded patients. The manager explains that, because my dad could live another ten years, my parents house will not be included in their assets. I know absolutely nothing about how much Mum and Dad have in savings but I would be very surprised if it is anywhere near the almost £200,000 needed to self-fund two years of care. My mother-in-law is in a more fortunate position as another family member has offered to pay for her care. Which care-homes do less wealthy elderly people go to? I visited my late godmother in a care home in Surrey which was nowhere as nice as this one. I remember walking in and being nauseated by the overwhelming smell of urine, there were sodden piles of underwear on the floor in the toilets, this home just smells clean and fresh. Perhaps they are like hotels and this one is the equivalent of five star.

The manager takes us for a look around. There is nothing not to like. The place is gleaming and tastefully decorated with generic but attractive artwork everywhere. Each of the residents doors has a decal of an old-fashioned front door stuck to it in different, bright colours. The manager explains that people with dementia can recognise colours until very late in their cognitive decline. There is a box-frame outside each room with some photos from the resident’s past and maybe a momento or two. There are sensor matts in case of falls. A TV lounge and dining room. 

The thought of ending up in a care home fills most people with dread. My elderly aunt has said she will not leave her own home under any circumstances. The care home we visited seems like a very pleasant place to live if you can afford it. I have now been told of another local care home specialising in respite care and we will have to go and look at this one as well. My husband is off to see his mum in hospital again this evening. It is upsetting for him to see his feisty mum in such a weakened state but we need to accept what is happening and make plans for a safe future for her.

Poster on the ward my mother-in-law is currently on encouraging patients to get moving.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash