Lesley Stock  Once we had Dad’s formal diagnosis of vascular dementia, we at least started to receive appointments for the Dementia care team. 

Dad
Mum and I attended an appointment with one of the dementia care team’s nurses, who took us through the issues we were having and explained how to deal, without sounding condescending or ‘authoritative’. 

At the time, I was grateful and assumed mum was taking this all in, and that she would take in what Jenny was saying about the disease. Until now, although mum knew dad was not himself, no matter what I advised, she either ignored or refused to accept. Dad was unfortunately still driving at this stage and despite me telling mum to ‘lose the car keys’ she seemed reluctant even to accept he shouldn’t be driving! How she was able to ignore the fact that dad didn’t even know the way to his local butchers is beyond me. She was in Ards one day and told dad to meet her round at the post office, a journey he made every week. When she arrived (wind blowing a gale and rain thrashing!), there was no sign of dad in the car! She walked half way round Ards trying to find where he could have gone. She rang his mobile, no answer, she rang the house, in case he had gone home, again, no answer. She rang me at home! Just as she was about to ring the police, there he was, parked up in the square! She leathered into him about where he’d been. Of course, he hadn’t remembered where she’d told him to meet her, so he had just parked where he normally parked and sat!

It took another few weeks before I could get through to him that he couldn’t drive anymore. I told him that the doctor had said he wasn’t meant to drive as he was on new pills. Lying doesn’t come easily to me, and I had such pangs of guilt that I had now removed yet another part of his life and independence. But at the same time, my first priority now is the safety and well being of my beloved wee daddy, and of course other road users. It wasn’t as bad for us as I’m sure other families had it, as mum still has her car and can drive. (Albeit like Miss Daisy!!)

As the weeks and months went on, I noticed dad becoming more and more withdrawn, depressed and started to get quite lethargic. I spoke again to his GP who prescribed anti-depressants, which thankfully, seemed to perk him up a bit. He began to eat better and enjoyed when I took him out for a run in the car to visit my horse and couple of pet sheep. It, at least, gave mum a bit of a break.

Things ticked along for a few months and then I started getting calls from mum ranting about ‘him’, not doing this or that - things that she’d asked him to do! When it became an every day occurrence, I spoke with her again regarding her understanding of the condition. Trying to explain to another 80 year old under severe stress was difficult. She said she understood, but followed on with, ‘it’s not all the dementia you know, he’s just downright lazy!’ Things however, came to a head in early summer of this year. Unbeknown to me, mum was going out the odd day and leaving dad's lunch and insulin out for him to take. When she was returning, he’d taken his lunch, but the insulin was still sitting beside the plate. When she relayed this to me, I have to admit, I cracked up with her, for a) leaving him on his own in the first place and b) thinking that he would remember to take his meds. Again, the disgruntled reply was ‘for goodness sake, he knows he has to take his insulin and test his blood!’ She still didn’t ‘get’ the fact that his brain is now firing off every which way, or indeed, in no way that would be coherent to ours.

I could see mum getting more and more stressed and as mum has had a nervous breakdown in the past, no matter what I offered to help with, her answer was always, he can do it rightly! Eventually, mum just stressed herself out that much that she refused to remind him to take his insulin. She didn’t recognise that now, more patience is needed. Now he has to be literally Given the injection into his hand. Things had reached critical point and as I couldn’t be there 24/7, there was now a safeguarding issue around dads health and well being, not to mention mum's! I took the bull by the horns and rung the Dementia nurse Jenny. It was a hard conversation: in effect, I was reporting my own mum for neglect, but I felt I had no other alternative. I live in a large rented bungalow, plenty of room to accommodate my parents safely and give them their own space, as well as my 26 year old son and his girlfriend who I still haven’t managed to get shot of. But mum point blank refused to come. So I felt she’d left me with no other choice. I said in the first part of dementia diaries, that the road of dementia carers is a lonely one, its also a very hard one, as difficult decisions have to be made for the good of the sufferer and also one’s own well being.

After contacting the social services team, they thankfully sent in nurses to administer dads insulin three times a day. This was obviously an emergency situation and I have to say, they got it up and running within two days of me ringing. I only had two days of running backwards and forwards from my house to check his bloods and give him his injection. Initially, mum protested: they came in too early in the morning, they didn’t come at the ‘right time’ at lunch etc etc, however, within a few weeks, dad's levels stabilised and now, it has become routine for both mum and dad.

My parents always took at least two holidays a year, one of which, for the last 17 years, has been to Crete. Mum kept saying to me, you know your dad really wants to go to Crete this year now that we can fly. When she first suggested it, I thought I was hearing things!! This daft 80 year old woman, with her own health issues, wanted to trail dad on a four and a half hour flight?? I tried to dissuade her, citing everything that could possibly go wrong but in early August, she announced she’d booked the flights and Eleni, the owner of the apartments had reserved ‘their’ garden bungalow! So that was that: against my advice and misgivings, they were heading to Crete early September!! I was so worried about how they would get on, I scraped together the money for the flight (beans and toast for us for the next few weeks) and I was bound for Crete as well!

In the next part of the diaries – ‘The holiday.’
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Dementia Diaries @ Ⅱ

Lesley Stock  Once we had Dad’s formal diagnosis of vascular dementia, we at least started to receive appointments for the Dementia care team. 

Dad
Mum and I attended an appointment with one of the dementia care team’s nurses, who took us through the issues we were having and explained how to deal, without sounding condescending or ‘authoritative’. 

At the time, I was grateful and assumed mum was taking this all in, and that she would take in what Jenny was saying about the disease. Until now, although mum knew dad was not himself, no matter what I advised, she either ignored or refused to accept. Dad was unfortunately still driving at this stage and despite me telling mum to ‘lose the car keys’ she seemed reluctant even to accept he shouldn’t be driving! How she was able to ignore the fact that dad didn’t even know the way to his local butchers is beyond me. She was in Ards one day and told dad to meet her round at the post office, a journey he made every week. When she arrived (wind blowing a gale and rain thrashing!), there was no sign of dad in the car! She walked half way round Ards trying to find where he could have gone. She rang his mobile, no answer, she rang the house, in case he had gone home, again, no answer. She rang me at home! Just as she was about to ring the police, there he was, parked up in the square! She leathered into him about where he’d been. Of course, he hadn’t remembered where she’d told him to meet her, so he had just parked where he normally parked and sat!

It took another few weeks before I could get through to him that he couldn’t drive anymore. I told him that the doctor had said he wasn’t meant to drive as he was on new pills. Lying doesn’t come easily to me, and I had such pangs of guilt that I had now removed yet another part of his life and independence. But at the same time, my first priority now is the safety and well being of my beloved wee daddy, and of course other road users. It wasn’t as bad for us as I’m sure other families had it, as mum still has her car and can drive. (Albeit like Miss Daisy!!)

As the weeks and months went on, I noticed dad becoming more and more withdrawn, depressed and started to get quite lethargic. I spoke again to his GP who prescribed anti-depressants, which thankfully, seemed to perk him up a bit. He began to eat better and enjoyed when I took him out for a run in the car to visit my horse and couple of pet sheep. It, at least, gave mum a bit of a break.

Things ticked along for a few months and then I started getting calls from mum ranting about ‘him’, not doing this or that - things that she’d asked him to do! When it became an every day occurrence, I spoke with her again regarding her understanding of the condition. Trying to explain to another 80 year old under severe stress was difficult. She said she understood, but followed on with, ‘it’s not all the dementia you know, he’s just downright lazy!’ Things however, came to a head in early summer of this year. Unbeknown to me, mum was going out the odd day and leaving dad's lunch and insulin out for him to take. When she was returning, he’d taken his lunch, but the insulin was still sitting beside the plate. When she relayed this to me, I have to admit, I cracked up with her, for a) leaving him on his own in the first place and b) thinking that he would remember to take his meds. Again, the disgruntled reply was ‘for goodness sake, he knows he has to take his insulin and test his blood!’ She still didn’t ‘get’ the fact that his brain is now firing off every which way, or indeed, in no way that would be coherent to ours.

I could see mum getting more and more stressed and as mum has had a nervous breakdown in the past, no matter what I offered to help with, her answer was always, he can do it rightly! Eventually, mum just stressed herself out that much that she refused to remind him to take his insulin. She didn’t recognise that now, more patience is needed. Now he has to be literally Given the injection into his hand. Things had reached critical point and as I couldn’t be there 24/7, there was now a safeguarding issue around dads health and well being, not to mention mum's! I took the bull by the horns and rung the Dementia nurse Jenny. It was a hard conversation: in effect, I was reporting my own mum for neglect, but I felt I had no other alternative. I live in a large rented bungalow, plenty of room to accommodate my parents safely and give them their own space, as well as my 26 year old son and his girlfriend who I still haven’t managed to get shot of. But mum point blank refused to come. So I felt she’d left me with no other choice. I said in the first part of dementia diaries, that the road of dementia carers is a lonely one, its also a very hard one, as difficult decisions have to be made for the good of the sufferer and also one’s own well being.

After contacting the social services team, they thankfully sent in nurses to administer dads insulin three times a day. This was obviously an emergency situation and I have to say, they got it up and running within two days of me ringing. I only had two days of running backwards and forwards from my house to check his bloods and give him his injection. Initially, mum protested: they came in too early in the morning, they didn’t come at the ‘right time’ at lunch etc etc, however, within a few weeks, dad's levels stabilised and now, it has become routine for both mum and dad.

My parents always took at least two holidays a year, one of which, for the last 17 years, has been to Crete. Mum kept saying to me, you know your dad really wants to go to Crete this year now that we can fly. When she first suggested it, I thought I was hearing things!! This daft 80 year old woman, with her own health issues, wanted to trail dad on a four and a half hour flight?? I tried to dissuade her, citing everything that could possibly go wrong but in early August, she announced she’d booked the flights and Eleni, the owner of the apartments had reserved ‘their’ garden bungalow! So that was that: against my advice and misgivings, they were heading to Crete early September!! I was so worried about how they would get on, I scraped together the money for the flight (beans and toast for us for the next few weeks) and I was bound for Crete as well!

In the next part of the diaries – ‘The holiday.’
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

2 comments:

  1. I really enjoy your writings Lesley, hopefully your wee Da behaves for you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I enjoy them as well. It is raw and unfiltered by niceties. Explains something of what really goes on in such difficult circumstances

    ReplyDelete