The 12 Days of Parents

I have wondered and wondered about posting stuff now about my mother as her dementia erodes her own self, I've been blogging a long time now and I always felt that is you were related to me it was fair game. Now I'm not so sure.
We had as reasonable a Christmas as we could have done under very trying circumstances, having lots of people fundamentally unsuited to being with other humans (me, mainly) and all being cooped up together don't make for peace and goodwill to either men nor aunties. Unfortunately as neither of my parents can now drive and my dad has COPD, it meant they spent a lot of time at home, with me, nae luck to anybody there. Himself worked all through the Christmas break. Eldest Beautiful Daughter had to fit in visits to her dad, brother, friends & boyfriends family. Beautiful Baby Daughter was around some but with coursework, boyfriend and mates. The girls were brilliant with their nana but she's not easy to be with for long periods of time.  I did try and get them out, my mum will walk for miles, she has slowed down ever such a lot but she still loves a walk but because of my dad's COPD we are limited as to how far we can go.
Eating out is a pleasure of the past as mum eats very little now and can't cope with any kind of flavour (food was a big issue this visit) I enjoy eating out with them so much less as mum removes her teeth ( she has a plate with her top 4 central teeth) to eat or now drink anything and them smiles at everyone, alarmingly showing them her fangs, so any reports of Dracula's granny sighted in Market Harborough were just of my mother. She gets hugely cross when asked to put her teeth back in, grabs her omnipresent handbag (more of which anon) and storms out to go home.
Shopping was good, she enjoys this and can still read the word sale, double win as she enjoys a bargain. Less happy was the fight she put up when my dad was trying to dissuade her from buying a purple teeny tiny mini skirt. Anything bright pink or bright purple will be a winner, double points if it's soft and warm. This year I bought her pink UGG slippers and a pink and purple striped fleecy jumper, she loved them, Lucy said it made her look like a marshmallow flump, to be fair it did but she was happy and that seems to be everyone's goal now.


Attired in fleecy pinks and purples, she is accompanied everywhere by a large brown PVC handbag, she has lots of really lovely handbags but this  (AWFUL fake Mulberry bought from the market in Turkey) seems to be her favourite, she meticulously takes everything out of it,  always has a purse which she will check for her money, her bank cards and her drivers license (which is a laminated photocopy as her psychiatrist wrote to the DVLA to remove her license), she will show you all of these things telling you she has them. Then will come her fan (think of Spanish holiday souvenir circa 1975, all back lace and dodgy flamenco dancers) I have no idea why she brought the fan in December, she is always freezing - even in the summer and her shoes most usually if she has slippers on or vice versa. If we lost anything over Christmas in invariably turned up in Nana's bag. The bag got checked constantly if she was unoccupied, everything out, shown to you and back in again. Tinky Winky eat your heart out.
She has taken to wearing every item of jewellery she possesses all together, we are talking at least 10 rings and maybe 6 or 7 bracelets, 2 necklaces and a watch, but she can't tell time any more. The sparklier  and more bling the better, such a change from how she was before. She also likes to tell you about her rings and you have to admire them. One of the few things she properly enjoyed over the break was Lucy painting her nails, bright purple of course. She would look and admire her fingernails and then you could admire both the nail varnish and the rings.


She was much better in the morning but by late afternoon she was falling asleep on the sofa, her agitation was much higher then too. If my dad wasn't by her side she wanted to find him, waiting for him outside the loo several times a day, one comedy moment was her going out to the garden where he was having a  peaceful ciggy and a fly mug of tea to say "She says I have to leave you for 5 minutes to have your smoke"
 Her ability to converse has gone now, she can't follow the thread of any conversation, calls everyone sweetheart to avid using names and has several stock phrases which came in handy for nana drinking bingo.  She also thinks that what is on TV is real and quite often about her. She need regular updates on what we are doing/planning to do/when she is going home/that she can't go home today as the plane is booked for Saturday and it is far too far to walk etc.
Now she has declined so far, she is unable to do anything for herself unaided or unprompted, she has to be told to eat the food on her plate or drink her drink, she in not capable of choosing her food/drinks but can feed herself although my dad is now starting to cut some things up for her. She can't manage to wash or dress herself, she screamed the place down when she had her hair washed (and we HAD to wash it) she was furious with us but 10 minutes later all dry and fleeced up she was happy again.


So I had a glimpse into the groundhog day that is my dad's life, she needs him there constantly, even if she was with me for a few hours, she works herself up into a right old state about getting back to him and she only seems content if he is there beside her.
I feel awful that I can't really relieve him of the burden of caring for her, he doesn't see it as a burden, just as his life now, pragmatic chap that he is. I am trying to encourage him to take the befriender offer and use a day centre but he knows she only wants him, I try and say tactfully that he needs to look after himself as if he goes under, neither my sister or I would be in a position to offer full time care to her.


This is such a sad, sad story that I expect is very common as dementia seems to affect so many people. And sadder still that my mother will only get worse.

Decorexia

 I have always had a fairly minimal house, perhaps because my family home  is so full you can only move  sideways in it and they think a surface without stuff and a wall without pictures is a complete waste of space. If you want to see what the Palace of Versailles would look like in a very ordinary Glasgow maisonette (or 4 in a block if you're one of us chosen people), you want to visit my mum & dad.
However in my middle years...
I find myself buying heart shaped things, all the feckin time, there can't be a room in my house without a heart shaped thing in it. To expand this hobby I have taken to buying heart shaped things for the villa, so not only am I imposing my lack of imagination on my nearest and dearest, I have now inflicted it on the good paying public who rent from me. Yesterday I spectacularly bought heart shaped things, in total, 3 pictures with hearts on, 2 cushions with hearts on, 1 metal hanging heart made with tiny bells ( I know), and no less than 8 hanging wicker hearts. I also bought bunting ala Kirsty Allsop but that's  a whole other story.


I have taken the buying of small bowls to an extreme art form also. We have a surfeit of small bowls, some are also heart shaped but it's not compulsory. I like bowls, I am particularly attracted to wee bowls. When you have crisps or nuts or snacky thinks it's so much nicer to have them from an attractive bowl.


Candles are also a particular passion, at present in my lounge, I have 25, some arranged in groups, some in bowls (you see, there is another purpose for a wee bowl) we have candles everywhere, inside and out. My husband who monitors our heating on a fancy graph, some Tado thingy that self regulates our heating so you don't have a timer any more (don't mock, Christ he needs something to occupy his mind, living with me) he can tell from his fancy graph when I have lit candles as the temperature increases. I am less impressed with the new fancy thing, I don't have the control thingy, he has one on his phone, if I get cold I have to light candles and put a cardie on or ring and ask him to switch the heating on. Still I have stuff and he has gadgets.


My house is filling up pretty quickly and my ever patient husband has learned not to ask what things are for, he just admires the heart shapes/wee bowls & candles and checks he is still a bloke, living in such a full house.


I am off to the beautiful house for a week, I am taking my husband, my stepson, my parents and several heart shaped things, some bowls and more candles with me. I will buy gin from the duty free and imbibe hourly from 11 to 11 as the combination of my mother telling me the same thing over and over and the boy wonder showing me how he jumps into the pool over and over will most certainly require a more relaxed (aka drunk) auntie to cope!!!


My starter for 10 was yesterday when I was chatting to my mum on the phone, she arrives tonight and I had said how nice it would be to see her. She replied that she was also looking forward to seeing me and then added "and your husband" As I am a very polite auntie, I said " Andrew is looking forward to seeing you too" She closed the conversation with, "Well, I don't know about that but I am looking forward to seeing your husband"


See you in June

The beginning of the end

I am finding more and more that I don't want to blog about stuff for fear of upsetting people. The stuff I have going on with my mother is fairly grim and I would like to blog my way through it but I don't want to upset you my dear readers. I have decided to have a separate blog as I work my way through my mother's declining mental state.

I'm not sure if I have enough to keep both blogs going so if I'm not here, you might find me over HERE

In my mother's mind

It's not been easy dealing with my mum having no short term memory, I'm not as patient or as kind as I would be with your mother and it's hard to keep positive as it is progressive and it's not going to get better. But genuinely, today I had my first proper laugh about the whole thing.

I was speaking to her on the phone and I asked what she's been up to. I was hugely surprised when she told me she'd taken the bus and gone to visit my sister. My dad who's been with her 24 hours a day for months and knows she's not been on a bus since about 1975 gently tells her she's mistaken. She then takes the arse with him and starts telling him all about her bus pass and that he's forgotten and maybe he should get his memory checked. She then told him to go jump in the Clyde.

Still, it's nice that she had a wee bus trip, even if it was imaginary. And as my dad says, she'll have forgotten she's cross with him by the time the kettle's boiled.

My memory

Should be subtitled "Or what's left of it"

Is it cos I'm stressed? (to be sung to the tune of Moose T)

Is it because I'm getting old?

Is it because I've got way too much work on?

Is it a sign of my own personal doom?

Today I was lecturing at a local university, part of my lecture was on memory loss and mild cognitive impairment in neurological disorders.

I drove all the way home and found I'd left my laptop there.

Do you think I could take my mum's appointment at the memory clinic? Save it going to waste.

My Mother's Memory

Life is not terribly easy for The Beautiful Parents at the moment. My mum has been having memory problems for at least 18 months but has vehemently denied it, she is quite happy in denial land, we have tried all kinds to get her to see her GP but have failed. My dad isn't able to persuade her and doesn't like to upset her, so we have a fair bit of hiding under the duvet about it. As she has been very physically well, she had managed to dodge her doctor for the last 2 years.

Recently she has been feeling nauseous and been off her food. She wouldn't go and see the GP about this as she is scared to, in case they see how bad her memory is. Eventually she was throwing up old blood and my dad phoned an ambulance, she had a perforated duodenal ulcer. The "indigestion" she'd been having clearly was more serious. So she's had some major surgery and has been thrust back into the bosom of the NHS. Normally she's not be best pleased about this but as she's so ill, her arseyness (which is legendary) was abated, she was very compliant and docile.

I went up to stay on the day she got out of hospital and was properly shocked at how poor her short term memory is. I really wasn't fully aware of how much my dad is doing and how little she can now do. She has given up any kind of housework or cooking, she is not really doing anything to contribute to the running of the house, my dad is doing everything. She was still driving but has had 2 bad experiences when a road was closed and she couldn't find her way home, she was missing for over 4 hours and my sister had to drive around to find her. I knew nothing of this.

So I have a mother who clearly has dementia and refuses to acknowledge it, I have a dad who can't walk the length of the hall without being out of breath due to his COPD and asbestosis. My mum can't even make a cup of tea now, my dad doesn't drive so can't do the shopping, my sister will help but lives 40 minutes away and also has 2 school age girls and a 15 month old baby.

So, now we are 2 weeks post surgery, today she went to the GP and had a memory test done. She could not remember any of the answers, not a single one.

My mother is now refusing to be referred to the memory clinic and to ever see another doctor as long as she lives because there is absolutely nothing wrong. She is perfectly happy.

It's the rest of us that are not.

End of Story

Shall we start with the nice bit? If you're in need of a cheer up, just read the next paragraph and look at the picture of the cute baby and then click away, after that it's fairly rantie auntie, you have been warned...

I have been home, my new nephew is beautiful and teeny tiny and was a bit yellow but grand now, look how weeny he is compared to my big heffalump of a boy

Okay, that's the good bit, from now on in, it's fairly grim, on your own head be it

I am so trying and failing to enjoy my visits home now, I could give you a list of my main reasons why but I just sound like a grumpy teenager and the world so doesn't need another one of them, my beautiful baby daughter is, in fact, the world's grumpiest teenager and I have no wish for you to see where she could have got that from.

I really struggled with my mother this visit, her need to have her own way at any cost and her refusal to compromise annoys the bejaysus out of me. Her anxieties and stresses about any tiny change in her routine of watching telly and watching telly exasperate me beyond words. This combined with her life long habit of not listening and not remembering make for a bumpy time.

My mother's memory is worsening. A few days of groundhog day conversations made me say that I was worried. Her vehement denial and her refusals to visit her GP over the last 6 months (for her usual BP checks etc) makes me think she knows her memory is worsening too. She is remaining in denial land, no matter how many times we tell her that things have improved hugely since her mother's dementia demise, she remains resolute. There is no problem, she is absolutely fine. End of story, those 3 words are my mothers final and much repeated end to any argument. I must have heard them hundreds of times in my life.

I can't help wondering if her inability to accept any change and her lack of doing anything are because of her mental state. Is it the chicken or the egg? Does she stay at home watching telly and not go out because she can't go wrong? does she not listen to us so she can blame that for not remembering? when did she start having the word finding difficulties?

My dad says he can't remember the last time she cooked a meal, or did some housework or even did the shopping. He has been doing it all. She either tells him things 5 times over ar not at all and then gets completely furious with him when he says she hasn't told him, saying he's the one with the memory problems. He has raised the subject about her memory but the ensuing arguments it caused made him not push the point.

My sister says my mother has stopped visiting, she used to drive the 14 miles a few times a week but she hasn't been for months. My sister has also noticed that mum listens less well and retains less but sees this as an ongoing problem, a gradual worsening, an inevitability.

I am not a good daughter to my mother, our relationship isn't the best or the closest or the easiest, I find it difficult to be with her. The parts of myself I particularly dislike are things I associate with my mother. I put a good face on it, I visit, we speak, I know she would help me if I needed it, I try but it doesn't come naturally to me, I don't have the ease with her I have with others.

I am not kind and patient like I am with others who suffer memory loss. I am not accomodating and cheerful and understanding, I am cross and tetchy and I find it incredibly tedious. I seem to lack genuine compassion for her, if she was your mother I would be much more understanding. And that is a huge shame, she must be so scared, she looked after my gran who had dementia, it must be like facing up to your own personal doom. This is a massive failing on my part, something I will have to really work on.

I don't understand why she won't go to her GP, I have an overwhelming need to know, no matter how bad I need to know what I am dealing with. I am an ex nurse, I believe in getting checked and seeing if any drug or therapy or lifestyle change can help. I believe in having the positive mental attitude, in matters medical I believe that early diagnosis is crucial. I sincerely hope she goes and gets checked out to see if there is anything that can be done to help.

But maybe I'm thinking about physical problems but it's not a physical problem, maybe if it was my mind I was scared of losing, I would be right where she is, in denial.