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| Dad |
I want to firstly tell you the background to Elounda, Crete and how mum and dad started taking their holidays there around 18 years ago.
My mum’s younger sister had moved out there when her husband and she had retired. Her husband had died unfortunately, but mum and dad (in fact all the family had visited in those years). I and my kids were the only ones not to have travelled due to her sister being one of the most vile types of people I’ve ever met! Ever heard the term ‘they’d start a fight in a cemetery’? Well, that was her, and the last time I’d had any contact with her was at my uncle’s funeral, where, yet again, she started her antics! As a matter of principle, I had stayed clear of this beautiful little fishing town.
This year however, there were a couple of reasons why I bit the bullet so to speak and relented. The aunt was unable to walk very far due to having severe back issues, so the chances of me bumping into her were slim to none! Also, I cherish my dad so much more since his diagnosis and was not going to let her stop me having what could be my last family holiday with my parents. So, I travelled to Elounda for the first time.
Both were sitting in the garden outside their apartment when I arrived. It was late, so I was ushered up to the bar to meet Aleni, the apartment owner and to get my key, where I was pleased to find out they had been doing really well in the week I was at home worrying sick!! I graciously accepted the cold gin and tonic and exchanged pleasantries before I retired and clambered into bed.
The next morning, I awoke to the brightest light warming my face on the bed. I’d forgotten to pull the balcony curtains and until I fully woke, thought I’d died and was being greeted by the angels! After struggling into bikini and sundress, I made my way to the pool to be welcomed yet again by mum and dad under the ‘fig tree’.
In the morning light, I must admit, I can now understand why they love this place so much! The pool area is surrounded by pomegranate, fig trees, palms, and although smaller than I’m used to, the pool was beautiful and there was ample sun loungers and space to faff around. Dad seemed in great form, as did mum, but when she spoke to me while we were at the pool bar the usual ‘he’ll not do anything for himself’ rants continued. I reassured her that I’d take to do with him now and she seemed a bit more settled.
The first day there, dad must have asked me 30-40 times ‘Well, what do you think of Crete?’, and every time it was asked, I answered like it was the first time he’d mentioned it. I think mum has become worn out with the constant repetitiveness of dad’s conversations. It’s not that I blame her, it Is wearing, and let’s face it – she’s 80 herself, so it must be difficult to accept that constant repetitive conversation.
The holiday was a chance for me to find out exactly what she goes through on a daily basis, and yes, it can be frustrating and wearing, but at the same stage he seemed very comfortable in this foreign place and remembered where everything was around the apartments. Getting him motivated to get up in the mornings is still an issue and many a morning, I was sent down to ‘get that lazy beggar up, he’s not lying all day in that bed’ Here is where it gets ‘odd’. Dad, as soon as I knocked on the apartment door and went in, got up and dressed and duly did what he was asked. It made me wonder why he didn’t do the same for mum I didn’t have long to find out the answer.
One morning, I happened to call into their apartment before taking a short walk into the town before breakfast. As usual, dad was still lying in bed albeit awake, mum packing the tanning creams, his meds etc into her bag for the day's sprawling at the pool. ‘Will you get up David!’ she admonished. ‘Sure, its only half 6’ says he. I looked at my watch, 8.30 am, not 6.30 …. I said, how did you get that time dad? To which mum, again in a frustrated tone between her grimacing teeth explained that he had decided not to change his watch with the time difference!! So, he was confusing himself even more! As mum swept out of the apartment, again she shouted, ‘get up!’ and promptly left!
I chatted a bit to dad and asked if he wanted to come a wee ‘dander’ with me. He declined but said, ‘she does my head in sometimes, she’s always shouting’ I tried to make a joke out of it by reminding him she had always been like that, but it saddened me to hear him feeling like he was constantly being badgered and yet, I couldn’t blame mum, she was still very much in denial about his condition. I also realised why she got so frustrated: she had left him to ‘get up’ but the minute she left, he forgot she’d told him to! I stayed and waited until he clambered out of bed, went and got his shorts on and joined mum at the pool. The whole getting up business, had taken 15 minutes of cajoling, asking and then in the end me saying I’d help him out of bed!
Being with someone who has dementia 24/7 is without doubt, tiring and frustrating, but I’ve recognised that the less ‘nagging’ is done, and more patience is shown, helps not only the sufferer, but the carer. When the sufferer looks and can read the menu, decides what they want, but then two minutes later, forgets what they’ve said they’ve wanted - it was at those times I ‘helped’ dad order, by saying ‘didn’t you want the’ whatever he’d said… It still gave him the feeling that he wasn’t being spoken for, but took away the awkwardness of him blankly staring at the menu while the waiter was there. I’d say patience is the most important thing at this stage of dad’s illness. He knows all is not right, but I want him to feel secure that he’s not going to be berated at every opportunity. I want to enjoy this time we have with him as much as possible, not get uptight, frustrated and angry at him, or cause him any anger and frustration as well.
We had some right laughs though, and thankfully dad still has that wicked sense of humour he always had, although I cringe at times because he now is becoming more inappropriate and doesn’t whisper!! I’m glad I went with them, swimming and having races in the pool with my wee daddy - just like we did when I was a child - made it all so much more special.
This year however, there were a couple of reasons why I bit the bullet so to speak and relented. The aunt was unable to walk very far due to having severe back issues, so the chances of me bumping into her were slim to none! Also, I cherish my dad so much more since his diagnosis and was not going to let her stop me having what could be my last family holiday with my parents. So, I travelled to Elounda for the first time.
Both were sitting in the garden outside their apartment when I arrived. It was late, so I was ushered up to the bar to meet Aleni, the apartment owner and to get my key, where I was pleased to find out they had been doing really well in the week I was at home worrying sick!! I graciously accepted the cold gin and tonic and exchanged pleasantries before I retired and clambered into bed.
The next morning, I awoke to the brightest light warming my face on the bed. I’d forgotten to pull the balcony curtains and until I fully woke, thought I’d died and was being greeted by the angels! After struggling into bikini and sundress, I made my way to the pool to be welcomed yet again by mum and dad under the ‘fig tree’.
In the morning light, I must admit, I can now understand why they love this place so much! The pool area is surrounded by pomegranate, fig trees, palms, and although smaller than I’m used to, the pool was beautiful and there was ample sun loungers and space to faff around. Dad seemed in great form, as did mum, but when she spoke to me while we were at the pool bar the usual ‘he’ll not do anything for himself’ rants continued. I reassured her that I’d take to do with him now and she seemed a bit more settled.
The first day there, dad must have asked me 30-40 times ‘Well, what do you think of Crete?’, and every time it was asked, I answered like it was the first time he’d mentioned it. I think mum has become worn out with the constant repetitiveness of dad’s conversations. It’s not that I blame her, it Is wearing, and let’s face it – she’s 80 herself, so it must be difficult to accept that constant repetitive conversation.
The holiday was a chance for me to find out exactly what she goes through on a daily basis, and yes, it can be frustrating and wearing, but at the same stage he seemed very comfortable in this foreign place and remembered where everything was around the apartments. Getting him motivated to get up in the mornings is still an issue and many a morning, I was sent down to ‘get that lazy beggar up, he’s not lying all day in that bed’ Here is where it gets ‘odd’. Dad, as soon as I knocked on the apartment door and went in, got up and dressed and duly did what he was asked. It made me wonder why he didn’t do the same for mum I didn’t have long to find out the answer.
One morning, I happened to call into their apartment before taking a short walk into the town before breakfast. As usual, dad was still lying in bed albeit awake, mum packing the tanning creams, his meds etc into her bag for the day's sprawling at the pool. ‘Will you get up David!’ she admonished. ‘Sure, its only half 6’ says he. I looked at my watch, 8.30 am, not 6.30 …. I said, how did you get that time dad? To which mum, again in a frustrated tone between her grimacing teeth explained that he had decided not to change his watch with the time difference!! So, he was confusing himself even more! As mum swept out of the apartment, again she shouted, ‘get up!’ and promptly left!
I chatted a bit to dad and asked if he wanted to come a wee ‘dander’ with me. He declined but said, ‘she does my head in sometimes, she’s always shouting’ I tried to make a joke out of it by reminding him she had always been like that, but it saddened me to hear him feeling like he was constantly being badgered and yet, I couldn’t blame mum, she was still very much in denial about his condition. I also realised why she got so frustrated: she had left him to ‘get up’ but the minute she left, he forgot she’d told him to! I stayed and waited until he clambered out of bed, went and got his shorts on and joined mum at the pool. The whole getting up business, had taken 15 minutes of cajoling, asking and then in the end me saying I’d help him out of bed!
Being with someone who has dementia 24/7 is without doubt, tiring and frustrating, but I’ve recognised that the less ‘nagging’ is done, and more patience is shown, helps not only the sufferer, but the carer. When the sufferer looks and can read the menu, decides what they want, but then two minutes later, forgets what they’ve said they’ve wanted - it was at those times I ‘helped’ dad order, by saying ‘didn’t you want the’ whatever he’d said… It still gave him the feeling that he wasn’t being spoken for, but took away the awkwardness of him blankly staring at the menu while the waiter was there. I’d say patience is the most important thing at this stage of dad’s illness. He knows all is not right, but I want him to feel secure that he’s not going to be berated at every opportunity. I want to enjoy this time we have with him as much as possible, not get uptight, frustrated and angry at him, or cause him any anger and frustration as well.
We had some right laughs though, and thankfully dad still has that wicked sense of humour he always had, although I cringe at times because he now is becoming more inappropriate and doesn’t whisper!! I’m glad I went with them, swimming and having races in the pool with my wee daddy - just like we did when I was a child - made it all so much more special.
When a loved one has dementia, don’t concentrate on the awful times that are coming, they’re not here yet! Cherish each passing day they remember your name, have a laugh, do the things they did when you were a child. I don’t know how long I have my dad, but by God, I’m going to enjoy every moment!
Next When it gets to crisis point.
Next When it gets to crisis point.
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| Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer currently involved in community work. |
A very revealing account of the issue which is conveyed in a human and not a robotic manner. The difficulty and conflict of emotions comes across authentically.
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