Tag: FAMILY

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Fourteen Things Seem Hopeless

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

It’s a beautiful sunny Sunday in early March and I really should be in the garden doing some tidying up but my morning visit to my parents has drained me of energy . Mum is becoming more and more obstinate, she says no to anything that could help her. She does not have the capacity to reason anymore so there is no discussion, it’s her way or the highway. If Dad or I try to insist then there will be a tantrum. Even at eighty-nine, Mum can be quite intimidating. It has got to the point where I walk up their garden path with a sense of trepidation and anxiety.

This morning it was apparent that Mum was in desperate need of a hairwash. I always do it over the kitchen sink, it takes ten minutes, if that. Mum’s forehead, and behind her ears are covered in orange, waxy scales. Mum says no way is she having her hair washed and that I should mind my own business and go home. Dad tries to reason with her but she refuses to move out of the chair. Eventually I manage to persuade her over to the sink and very gently clean her scalp and face but afterwards she sits pretending to cry which makes me feel terrible. She pretends to cry on every visit now, it’s an unwelcome new development. She tells my lovely dad is is a horrible husband and that I should go home and not come back. In my last Dementia Diaries post I was optimistic about Dad accepting some professional help but here we are, still muddling along by ourselves. I have filled out a Social Services form online requesting an assessment but have heard nothing back.

The Occupational Therapist has delivered a shiny new walking frame to my parents’ house. It must have cost hundreds of pounds. It has brakes and a little shopping basket attached. It can also be used as a seat. Mum just spends her days sitting in the armchair now but, in the past, has always enjoyed getting out. She should be able to manage a very short walk and it will do her good to get the blood circulating, particularly in her perpetually swollen legs. I suggest that we go out for a little walk around their pretty cul-de-sac. Again I am met with refusal “I am not using that” she says. End of conversation. I try to press the matter but she pretends to go to sleep. I see her peering out of one eye to see if I’m still there, if it weren’t so infuriating it would almost be sit-com worthy. So it will be another day where my Dad won’t see anyone. The walking frame is now in their utility room, tea towels draped over it, what a waste of resources.

This week I was upset to read about the tragic deaths of actor Gene Hackman and his wife, Betsy Arakawa. Betsy, aged sixty five, was carer to Hackman who was ninety five and had advanced Alzheimer’s disease. Betsy had died from an infection associated with rodents and Hackman died of natural causes a week later. As is always the case now, the internet was immediately awash with conspiracy theories about the “mysterious” deaths. There was actually nothing mysterious as all, just desperately sad. It would seem that Hackman possibly did not comprehend that his wife was dead and was alone in their house for a week afterwards until he passed away himself. Even if he had understood he probably did not have the cognitive ability to summon help. I am surprised this scenario doesn’t play out more often, or perhaps it does but we only hear about it when it affects famous people. If my dad died my mum wouldn’t be able to use the phone and she would probably forget what had happened within a couple of minutes. She would not be able to prepare even the simplest meal for herself. I check in with my parents every day and, if they don’t answer the phone, I drive to their house. Fortunately they live very close to me. My dad has an emergency alert pendant, he has had one heart attack. God forbid he has another then I hope he could press the button and get help. My mum certainly couldn’t dial 999 now.

There was a lot of judgement about Gene Hackman and Betsy Arakawa’s deaths. Where were their three adult children, why didn’t they have a housekeeper, caregivers etc. The fact is some people become very reclusive when they grow older and refuse to accept any help from outsiders, even family. They don’t want to admit the full extent of what is going on, they tell themselves they can cope. In the Hackman family’s case, they probably didn’t expect a sixty five year old woman to suddenly pass away. Not every family is close but somebody needs to take responsibility for checking in every day.

So, an unsuccessful and upsetting visit to my parents house. I am hoping that social services will respond to my request for an assessment and that they will insist on someone coming in regularly to wash Mum. Someone who is used to dealing with refusal , tears and tantrums. On my walk home I bump into their lovely, sprightly neighbour whose husband went into a care home with Alzheimer’s a year or so ago. He is very happy there apparently and his ninety year old wife looks so much better for having passed the burden onto the professionals. She told me she wasn’t getting more than three hours sleep a night before and that she had lost two stone which she is now slowly regaining. I hope my dad will consider care for my mum if she gets any worse because we can’t struggle on like this.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

My Daughter’s 21st Birthday – We visit The London Dungeon

On By samanthaIn GOING OUTLeave a comment

My daughter had been debating what to do for her 21st birthday. We had already been to see the Mean Girls Musical a couple of weeks beforehand. She had been planning on going back to university but many of her friends were on work placement or studying for their exams. In the end she decided to stay at home and celebrate with her friends after their exams were finished. She still didn’t seem very enthusiastic about doing anything in particular, we debated going to Madame Tussauds or The Natural History Museum but on the end decided on The London Dungeon. I booked tickets on the day which were £35 each. We had been a couple of times before, about a decade ago so we knew what to expect.

We travelled to Waterloo East and then it is a five minute walk to the dungeon which overlooks the river, you can’t really miss it. The nearest Tube is Waterloo. There weren’t many visitors to The Dungeon at 11am on a Wednesday morning, there seemed to be more staff than guests but we were greeted enthusiastically by staff wearing various medieval costumes, a silent monk was particularly creepy. There are plenty of photo opportunities in the entrance but after that point you have to turn your phone off. The staff do corner you to take some “official” photos, pictures of you in the stocks or about to have your head lopped off with an axe and you can view and purchase these photos before leaving. The Dungeons are manned by actors, all very young, who take visitors on a tour of some of the horrors of London. It had changed somewhat since my last visit and I was disappointed to see the boat ride had been removed, that was my favourite part. A room dedicated to the witch trials had been added and this was probably the most frightening spectacle. I had previously taken my children and some friends for their tenth birthdays but I think the witch performance would be too scary for many ten year olds.

The first character we met was a court jester who dramatically told us a little bit about what to expect and then we were taken into a pitch back lift called The Descent and the tour began. We found ourselves in a courtroom where a batty judge sat in session. One of the other visitors was placed in the dock and some silly charges ready out, it was all very funny. A long list of crimes punishable by death in 1622 was displayed on the wall, pickpocketing and animal theft included. We are then led to a medieval torture chamber, again a guest or two are singled out to participate but it is all very light-hearted.

The actress playing Mrs Lovett in the Sweeney Todd section was absolutely superb and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. She stood behind a counter ladened with dubious looking meat pies. Guests are then escorted into a room full of barbers chairs and asked to sit down. It is enough to make your scalp crawl. There is a strong comedic element to some of the exhibits, particularly the courtroom and the pie shop. Others are strictly horror inducing such as the section on Jack the Ripper and the Witches. Be prepared to find yourself in pitch black rooms at various points during the tour, not knowing who or what is going to appear right in front of you. There are also a lot of strobe lighting effects.

The London Dungeons are genuinley quite educational in places, especially the plague section and guests stop here, sit down and are treated to an autopsy of a plague victim. Prepare to be splattered by the totally incompetent physician!

There is a confusing mirror maze and then the guests find themselves in a Whitechapel set where we meet a lady of the night, terrified that she will be The Ripper’s next victim, we then going into a pub for another genuinely terrifying spectacle. Now I come to think about it, I do remember many squeals in this part when I visited a decade ago with a gaggle of ten year old girls. Maybe not the obvious choice of venue but they did all have a fantastic time.

After making the rounds of all the exhibits the dungeons predictably ends in a small gift shop where you can buy the usual stuff, key rings, pencils and T shirts etc. There is also a bar before the exit where you can rest before heading back out into 2025.

I think The London Dungeon is brilliant fun and a great way to spend a couple of hours in London. It’s probably suitable for most children of twelve and older. The London Eye is right outside and you can buy a multi-ticket including the Dungeon, The London Eye and Madame Tussauds and make a real day of it.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Thirteen Finally Accepting Help

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

Mum’s health seems to plateau for six months or so and then, suddenly, something that she has been managing becomes impossible for her. About six months ago she stopped being able to get into the bath. My parents shower is over the bath so that is impossible too. I didn’t know that this was an issue, my dad didn’t volunteer the information but it became very apparent that Mum was not as clean as she should be. A few years ago the Occupational Therapist visited and installed handrails all over the house, including the bathroom but, even so, Mum can’t now climb over the side of the bath. Like many elderly people, she suffers from urinary incontinence and, although the washing machine is always on, Mum herself isn’t washing the parts of her body that really need cleaning. Incontinence pants such as Tena Lady are very expensive, they aren’t available on the NHS but the district nurse did bring some pads round. They are so cheap looking that they don’t even come with an adhesive strip and I don’t think Mum has the dexterity to use them correctly. We ordered some incontinence pants from Amazon but I’m not convinced Mum will use them, in fact I am sure she won’t.

I don’t come from a very open family and definitely would not feel comfortable giving Mum an intimate wash and neither would Dad. I bought some Water Wipes for her to use but the pack remains, unopened, in the bathroom and they wouldn’t be a long term solution anyway. I have been trying to persuade Dad to engage a carer but he just wouldn’t agree. He has a gardener come a few times a year and Mum constantly tells her to go home and she also constantly tells me when I visit “go home, your husband will be wondering where you are”. I know that Dad is worried about her being difficult with having a stranger come into the house and helping her but we are out of options. I tell Dad that if I were in Mum’s position I would want my family to ensure I was kept clean and we are letting her down by not doing so just because we are afraid of a tantrum. Finally he rings Social Services, we had been waiting for a referral from the psychiatrist who diagnosed Alzheimer’s but that never materialised, and they pay my parents a visit.

Annoyingly I couldn’t be there when Social Services arrived because I was working but they assessed my parents needs and put them in touch with Crossroads., a charity that supports unpaid carers. The very next day a woman from Crossroads visited my parents and spoke to them about any benefits they are entitled to such as Carers Allowance and filled out the form for a council tax exemption. Two days after that Dad had to go for an Xray as he hurt his shoulder . I was unable to get time off from work at such short notice. Dad arranged hospital transport and a volunteer from Crossroads offers to sit with Mum. Dad’s appointment was at 3pm but he still hadn’t been seen at 4.45pm and the carer rang him to say she had to leave. Fortunately I had finished work and didn’t have to collect my son as I usually do at that time so I rushed around to their house. Then Dad rang to say that hospital transport had forgotten him! The nurse told him he should have booked a morning appointment if he wanted to use that service. Poor Dad it had all been arranged that morning, the transport coordinator was well aware of his appointment time, not the most confidence inspiring start to accepting other people’s help. In the end he called a taxi. An expensive solution.

When I arrived at my parent’s house Mum told me to leave before I had even taken my coat off. I asked the volunteer how things had gone but she understandably rushed off without saying much. I made Mum a cup of tea and Dad was home about an hour later. So we learned that we have to book a carer/volunteer for much longer than is necessary in the case of hospital appointments and that hospital transport can’t be relied on.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Christmas Gift Ideas for Family and Friends

On By samanthaIn SHOPPINGLeave a comment

I went to the dentist a couple of weeks ago, it was the 26th October and she asked “are you all ready for Christmas?” Huh? Christmas, we hadn’t even had Halloween. This year has flown by and I suppose I need to get organised. It will only be the five of us and my parents for Christmas lunch but I also have my elderly aunt and my parents over sometime in early December.

So gifts, I want to get on with buying them and wrapping them up as they arrive so I am not wrestling with the Sellotape for hours on end. I would like to say the presents I choose are all sourced from local businesses and, before I went back to work, that would be the case but now I have no time to go to the shops so they are mostly bought online. For my elderly relatives I now stick to Marks and Spencer vouchers and they can spend them on nice food if they wish. Here are my picks for other gifts for 2024:

Girls older teens/early twenties

Earrings, not very expensive because they lose them but no so cheap they will turn their ears green. I have chosen these nine carat gold studs from QVC, I bought them when they were on special offer, they are currently £75 which is a little expensive for a stocking filler. They will look nice with my daughter’s suits when she is on her new work placement.

Travel Jewellery Box from Oliver Bonas, because I always have to buy something when I go in to this shop, they sell so many pretty things. These boxes are reduced at the time of writing. They come in lots of pretty designs and are a useful, inexpensive gift for just about anyone.

Joggers from ASOS My daughter plays a lot of sport and all young people seem to live in joggers. Last year I bought her a fleece lined pair but I don’t think they were a hit. These are a little sleeker. I noticed while shopping for these that most of the styles now have wide legs but they’d trip my daughter up if she were wearing them for lacrosse practice.

Teenage Boys

Cash, that’s what they really appreciate but I will also buy some clothes for my younger son. Again, joggers, boys seem to prefer grey. Wide hems seem to be the trend for boys too but I have stuck to the traditional, cuffed style

Crew neck sweatshirt from Uniqlo. My younger son already has one of these in navy and the quality is great. He doesn’t tend to wear hoodies, he likes something a little smarter.

Suitcase, one of my sons is travelling to Australia next year and will need a new case. I was not terribly impressed with my recent purchase from Samsonite so am thinking of ordering this one by brand Americal Tourister from Amazon, Not a brand I am familiar with but this product has almost 1500 excellent reviews and is reasonably priced at £90.

Anti-theft laptop backpack, my older two children take very inexpensive flights where they cram clothes for a week into a backpack because it costs around £100 for them to upgrade to a small suitcase. I purchased two of these from Amazon in grey and in black, they have proved to be a winner so I will buy another for my younger son. My older son takes his into the office as does my daughter when she is on work placement. She said all the girls use similar, no one uses a traditional handbag for work anymore.

I always seem to be buying water bottles and then the lids get lost and they are useless. I am sure there are ten lids under my son’s bed but I daren’t look for fear of what else is lurking there. I will probably buy one or two of these from Chilly’s

Other sure-fire winners are those nylon, fluffy socks, slipper boots, plaid pyjama bottoms in brushed cotton, lip balm sets, body sprays and some of their favorite sweets.

Friends

I have about half a dozen friends that I buy gifts for, usually spending around £30 on average. Most of us complain about the amount of clutter in our homes and I am keen not to add to anyone’s burden of “stuff”.

For my friend who works from home I am going to buy this burgundy Parker Pen. I think it is a useful and elegant gift.

For my friend who takes her dog on lots of chilly walks I am going to buy her this cosy sweatshirt from Marks and Spencer which she can return if she doesn’t like it.

For my friend with whom I just exchange a tiny little gift, I am going to buy her this cute teddy keyring from Harrods. A very little bit of luxury.

So, an expensive and busy time of year, especially for women in my experience. Start writing your cards now, assuming people are still sending Christmas cards given the recent rise in the cost of stamps. My aunt writes her during August. Last year I sat writing ours for so long that my legs went to sleep and , when I tried to stand up, I fell flat on my face, not the best start to the festive season!

Happy Shopping!

Thank you for reading

Samantha

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

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

The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Ten – Where do we go from here?

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

I haven’t written a Dementia Diaries post for a little while. My mum’s condition, both physical and mental, has deteriorated considerably and even thinking about it makes me feel sad. Every day there is another problem, today Mum has lost her wedding ring, her engagement ring vanished some time ago. My dad’s entire life now revolves around looking after her and he looks utterly exhausted, not ideal when he had a heart attack only last year. I do some housework for them, mostly hoovering and mopping the kitchen floor but Mum is difficult about it and keeps telling me to stop and go home. When I try to ignore her she pretends to cry and puts her hand to her forehead and says I am making her ill. Am I supposed to leave everything for Dad to do? Dad does now have a lady gardener come every now and then but Mum rudely tells her to go home as well. The gardener has offered to clean for them, I suppose her outside work dries up in the autumn, but I know Mum would be telling her to stop for the whole time. Dad has mountains of laundry to do every single day and I go over and fold it and put it away but I am met with hostility from Mum about this as well. I invariably leave their house feeling guilty about Dad and worried about the way forward. How much longer can this go on for?

Mum now has difficulty walking even short distances and seems to launch herself across their tiny sitting room grabbing onto a chair then a table then another chair until she has made it to the door. She makes little mewing sounds as she does this. She can still pull herself upstairs with the two handrails but I don’t think that will be for long, it is a fall waiting to happen. I have asked my dad to consider turning the under stairs cupboard into a downstairs loo but he doesn’t want to. I am not even sure the space would be big enough. Getting Mum into a car is now a stressful ordeal and she won’t listen to direction. I try to tell her to put her bottom on the seat and bring her legs in but she climbs into the car in a standing position, puts one foot on top of another, and then can’t turn around. If I try to help she shrugs me off. Mum was badly hurt after falling while getting into my car two years ago, her leg took about nine months to heal, I am terrified of this happening again.

Another major setback is that Mum is now unable to get in and out of the bath. Dad now washes her with a flannel as they only have a shower head over the bath. They should have a carer coming in to help with this but the answer to that is a resounding no as well. My mother-in-law, who is in a much better state than my mum but lives alone, has carers in four times a day. They wash her, do her laundry and shopping and prepare simple meals for her. It has made a tremendous difference to her overall health. I am not sure if Dad does not want to spend the money on carers or whether he just dreads Mum being rude to them. Both my parents worked hard for many years and it is ridiculous that they are denying themselves assistance when they most need it.

Dad has a sky-high IQ, he must know that they need help but he doesn’t want to upset Mum. She must be kept happy at all costs, even to his health. As a consequence, he has become something of a servant. If he sits down for a second she asks him to open/close a window or door, if he leaves the room she keeps calling him until he gives up whatever he was trying to achieve. Apparently it is very common for dementia sufferers to become anxious if their main carer is not in sight. I came back from their house this morning feeling hopeless. Mum told Dad off for allowing me to put the carpet sweeper over. She asked the same question at least ten times in half an hour. I don’t know the way forward. Maybe one day the decision will be taken out of our hands. I think Dad is determined to manage, without outside help, for as long as possible.

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

With Love and Squalor

On By samanthaIn FAMILYLeave a comment

It is a beautiful day and I am not working.  It is 10am and I have already hung two loads of washing out on the line, popped to the supermarket to do some never-ending food shopping and dropped off an online return for my daughter.  As usual, I can’t relax.  I sit out in the garden and call my friend in the Isle of Wight for a catch up, we chat for fifteen minutes.  I then decide to sit and read my current book and chill out under the parasol.  Except that I remember how smeared the mirrors in the house are, they need a good polish, and the rug in the drawing room has soot on it, that needs a vacuum, the fridge door needs a spritz of Dettox and a wipe-down….  Why am I sitting, doing nothing, when my house is a squalid tip? OK, it’s not actually a squalid tip, just not the gleaming show home I would like it to be.   I head inside and start wearing myself out doing jobs that will only need repeating in day or two. What a waste of a sunny day.

For a few years I worked for a posh estate agent. It was my job to do the the viewings in the new build “luxury homes”, a job I thoroughly enjoyed most of the time. Everything was always gleaming and glossy but I would come home and my own house would look…tired. I live in a property built in 1760, it’s full of crooked angles and gappy floorboards. The local spiders make themselves right at home and invite their friends. At 265 years old my home is entitled to look a little knackered I suppose. I’m fifty five and some days I look quite knackered myself.

Most of my friends employ a cleaner.  I did have a succession of cleaning ladies, and one chap, when my children were younger.  Two were wonderful but several were just awful.  If I paid for four hours cleaning, I’d be lucky to get two.  I would always tidy before they came, clean the loo and offer tea or coffee every hour, in the end it was just easier, not to mention cheaper, to do it myself.  One local girl, who I nicknamed Lucy Lightfingers, stole from me. It was such a shame because I know she needed the job and I turned a blind eye when it was just dishwasher tablets and washing powder but soon money began to disappear and that’s not OK. In fact I see that she has set up an online business selling pre-loved designer handbags, possibly filched from the wardrobes of her clients.  I would quite like my vintage Fendi satchel back, bought with my hard-earned overtime money, in 1997.

When I visit certain friends, their houses are always pristine, how do people manage it when they have families?  It makes me feel inadequate. I do some sort of  housework every single day yet there is always a pile of mystery paperwork on the kitchen dresser, a ring on the glass coffee table where someone (my husband) has ignored the half dozen coasters and a thin layer of dusts forms on my glossy wooden floors no matter how often I clean them.

I try to remember that our homes are meant to be lived in and it is impossible to keep on top of everything all the time. My son had a story book , The Magic Lavatory, about a little boy, Jeffrey, who lived with an aunt who was so house-proud that he wasn’t allowed to play with anything for fear of making a mess, he just sat on the sofa all day until (spoiler alert!!) he was rescued by a magic toilet, nobody wants to live like that. Those of us with nice homes and family to share them with are incredibly lucky. If we have outside space then even more so. We all set ourselves up for failure sometimes by comparing ourselves, our homes, our finances and even our looks unfavourably with others. My seventeen year old son has actually put his M & S sandwich packaging in the bin. You have to celebrate the little wins.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

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New York Nerves

On By samanthaIn FAMILYLeave a comment

My seventeen year old son is going off on a school trip to New York and Washington tomorrow. He has a very laissez-faire attitude to preparation which is the polar opposite of my own. The long list of things I am currently worrying about includes :

  • Oversleeping and not getting to the school in time for the 3.45am drop off
  • Him losing his passport
  • Something being wrong with his ESTA and him being refused entry
  • The customs discovering his perfectly legal dermatologist prescribed medication that I haven’t disclosed to the school because he didn’t want to have it dished out by the teacher
  • His feet hurting as he has only just mentioned his second pair of trainers are too small
  • His debit card, which he just told me is badly cracked, not working
  • His wallet being stolen
  • The zip breaking on his bulging suitcase as he is packing every T Shirt he owns
  • Him not having enough smart clothes for the more formal visits
  • Us ignoring the teacher’s strange directive that boys can only wear shorts that come past their knees
  • Someone planting drugs in his suitcase
  • His suitcase going missing
  • Him not wearing his retainers
  • Him running up a massive bill on data using his iPhone

You get the neurotic picture. My other son left for Spain with his fiancée yesterday and my daughter is in Croatia with friends from university. I checked they both had appropriate travel insurance, gave them a hug goodbye and didn’t really give it too much thought. They know what they are doing. My youngest son is very intelligent but there is something about most teenage boys that is a bit dreamy, or at least that’s how they can come across. I fear he will be so busy chatting with his friends that he won’t notice somebody dipping into his backpack or his passport lying on the pavement.

Worry – what a colossal waste of life it is. My husband says it achieves nothing but that isn’t quite true. When I am anxious about something like this I find that making a list and crossing everything off makes me feel calmer and it also ensures nothing important is missed. After all, it wouldn’t be much fun walking around New York in the pouring rain if we hadn’t packed his waterproof, these things do matter. Worrying can certainly drain the pleasure out of life though and it is important to recognise when it is getting out of hand.

I am sure lots of people will think that teachers have a great deal, going on these incredible trips for free, but the amount of work that goes into organizing them must be enormous. In one day my son is vising the UN, the Museum of Modern Art and The Empire State Building. The responsibility of ensuring all these teens cross the busy roads safely, don’t sneak off trying to have a drink etc. would just about finish me off. I am sure they will all have a fabulous time. My son’s, rather overstuffed, suitcase is now packed, labelled and I am feeling much more relaxed already.

Thank you for reading

Samantha

Photo by Nik on Unsplash

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The Dementia Diaries – Chapter Nine – It’s Awkward

On By samanthaIn THE DEMENTIA DIARIESLeave a comment

Do you come from the sort of family that “talks about things”? I don’t. It sometimes makes things difficult when it comes to dealing with my elderly parents. For example, I have absolutely no idea what sort of funerals they would like. Mum is a Christian and Dad is an atheist, or maybe he is an agnostic, I don’t even know that! Of course I could die before either of them but the chances are it will be up to me and my brother to organise things when they do pass away. I don’t feel able to broach the topic with Dad. He will just say it will upset Mum if she hears. Obviously nobody wants to think about the people they love dying but it happens to all of us and, at almost ninety years old, you’d think Dad would have given it some thought.

My gregarious aunt has already told me she wants a huge “do”, Frank Sinitra’s “My Way” playing, expensive mahogany coffin and speeches galore. She would like a fully-catered reception at the local golf club which is what my uncle had. She has no children and, as I am not her executor I will gladly let somebody else organise all of that. My parents are very quiet people and, at this time of their lives, most of their friends have already died or have dementia. It is horribly sad. My Dad called an old friend who he met when doing National Service and this man, an incredibly talented artist, sounded totally befuddled. His own wife had recently died after a drawn-out decline with dementia, it was the first time that Dad realised that people actually die from this hideously cruel disease. The man’s daughter later sent Dad a lovely card saying that the chap now has dementia and has moved in with her and her family. She invited Dad to get in touch at any time. Poor Dad and his poor friend.

Fortunately, I have only been to a few funerals myself. My grandmother’s was lovely because Dad gave such a beautiful talk about her knowledge of wildflowers. There were only a few of us there but we were all people who really loved her. My uncle’s was a huge production, I gave the eulogy and honestly had to calm myself down when I saw so many people arriving at the crematorium. My Godmother died during Covid, I had to watch her funeral online.

Apparently the average cost of a funeral in the UK is almost £5,000. It’s a lot of money for some people to find. Many people take out funeral plans but these do not always represent good value for money , many things are not included such as the burial plot, flowers, order of service etc. When my grief-stricken aunt went to organise my uncle’s funeral one lady working at an undertakers didn’t even look up from her desk, she just barked at my aunt “prepaid”? My aunt walked out in disgust. There is a government scheme in place for those in hardship , the Funeral Expenses Payment, details are on the Gov.UK website.

Of course as well as the choice of being buried or cremated a person can also donate their body to science. I am not sure I would fancy being the cadaver for a medical student but it seems quite noble I suppose and probably avoids a lot of expense!

I really don’t feel comfortable broaching the topic of funerals with Dad. I don’t know how to bring the subject up and I feel it is really up to him to let me know. I am chatting to a friend about this when she tells me to look at the Age UK website as they have downloadable PDFs dedicated to funeral wishes and other end-of-life planning, the link is below. As for me, I will be quite happy to be put in a cardboard box. Whatever causes my family the least amount of stress and expense is fine with me.

https://www.ageuk.org.uk/information-advice/money-legal/end-of-life-planning/

Thank you for reading,

Samantha

Cover Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash