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| Dad |
After dad had taken himself off on the Wednesday night and scared me half to death, I left their house wondering how I was ever going to get through to mum. Whatever I said, wasn’t making any kind of an impact on her!
Plan B – talk to her friends. So, the next day, I rang my aunts and explained the situation. Both had the same opinion as myself, that mum couldn’t carry on the way she was, not only for dad's health, but for her own. Another friend who goes to their church was summoned and asked would he have a word as well. It was literally desperation point! Mum was refusing to speak to me or even dad and I knew that this was going to end up a complete nightmare if not sorted. I texted, no answer. I rang, got one word answers, so I left it a day or so, hoping she would calm down.
I then had a dread, so real that I had a pain my chest, that dad's condition would get worse by being sent to ‘Coventry’ so to speak. I plucked up the grit and put my big girl pants on (you know the huge ones that one needs to head round to the house incase you may get a frosty welcome). The atmosphere was palpable: it was immediately obvious that things since Wednesday, hadn’t improved. So, I threw my smile on and chatted away to dad like nothing was wrong. God love him, his face lit up and he engaged in the usual conversations I get every time I head round. ‘Where’s the kids today’, ‘Have you been up to the horse (I have found he now can’t remember Freya’s name, so she’s now ‘the horse’),’Have you been to work?’ (No dad I retired 3 years ago).
Mum by this stage had got up and walked into the kitchen, where I followed her after a couple of minutes. ‘Has the girl from Social Services rang you yet about getting someone in to sit with dad if you’re out’ I inquired. ‘Nope.’ Again, we’re playing that game mum? I asked her why she was acting the way she was, and yet again the venom with which the reply came was obvious. ‘You were out of line, and I want an Apology.’ Apology? She wanted an apology?? With that, I said cheerio to dad and left their house, mind racing as to how we get round this situation.
When I came home and thought about the (albeit slight) conversation, I found myself doubting what mum had said. Had the social worker rung, and mum had brushed her off? Lately, I’d been doubting a lot of what mum had been saying, and I hated the feeling that it gave me. I rang the team at the Ards Hospital and explained the situation. Folks, I can tell you, never worry about asking for help to deal with any situation regarding dementia. I spoke to Lisa and she put me at such ease, explaining that that’s what they are there for and we had a good chat, with the result that she would come out the following week to try to assess how she could help. I have never been the type of person to ask for help, I’m a bit of a control freak if I’m honest, but in this case, I know little about the disease, and quite frankly, haven’t a clue as to how to deal with some of the issues which are now presented to me. Advice would be something I’ve definitely come to rely on!
I sent mum a text - ‘I will not apologise for wanting the best for dad AND you, you can’t cope, so tell me, what will ease it.’ I heard my phone ping a few minutes later and rushed to open the text, hoping that she was going to give me something I could work with.
‘Your decision’
So again, she’d basically blanked me, so I took another approach. I sent one back saying to have dad ready the following afternoon and I’d bring him out. There was no way, I was letting mum make me feel uncomfortable going to her house, I needed to ensure dad was ok and in good form. My son was heading into Newtownards anyway the following afternoon, so he picked up dad and brought him to our house. After a quick coffee, I asked if he would come with me to feed the horse and sheep. He could hardly get his boots on quickly enough! He has always loved animals and he thankfully has kept this love for furry creatures and nature. So he had a brilliant couple of hours feeding and brushing Freya and the two sheep she has for companionship.
Although I live in a pretty rural area, I do have the most fantastic neighbours, and I had explained the predicament previously to next door. Glenn had suggested I bring dad in for some chatter and coffee, so when we got back (clobbered in muck from the field) we headed in next door. As I watched dad and Glenn chatting and getting to know each other, I think I was glowing inside to see dad so happy, animated and able to hold a conversation about the motorbikes he’d been so interested in as a young man. He ate a great dinner and his diabetes blood results when checked were spot on. I had had a brief conversation as to what mum was doing while he was out. Of course he couldn’t remember. However, he made it clear she was still in foul form with him at least!
I returned dad much later than I’d expected as we’d had such a great day and went into the house with him, only to be greeted by the sulking 80 year old. This couldn’t go on, something needed to change. How though? I’d tried everything from shouting my frustration, to cajoling to ignoring. When a loved one is diagnosed with dementia (Vascular Dementia in dad’s case) it would seem, certainly in our case with mum also being elderly, that sometimes, the carer suffers even more than the patient. It’s a tough road. For me, patience has been the one thing that has prevented from combusting.
Next week – The way forward
When I came home and thought about the (albeit slight) conversation, I found myself doubting what mum had said. Had the social worker rung, and mum had brushed her off? Lately, I’d been doubting a lot of what mum had been saying, and I hated the feeling that it gave me. I rang the team at the Ards Hospital and explained the situation. Folks, I can tell you, never worry about asking for help to deal with any situation regarding dementia. I spoke to Lisa and she put me at such ease, explaining that that’s what they are there for and we had a good chat, with the result that she would come out the following week to try to assess how she could help. I have never been the type of person to ask for help, I’m a bit of a control freak if I’m honest, but in this case, I know little about the disease, and quite frankly, haven’t a clue as to how to deal with some of the issues which are now presented to me. Advice would be something I’ve definitely come to rely on!
I sent mum a text - ‘I will not apologise for wanting the best for dad AND you, you can’t cope, so tell me, what will ease it.’ I heard my phone ping a few minutes later and rushed to open the text, hoping that she was going to give me something I could work with.
‘Your decision’
So again, she’d basically blanked me, so I took another approach. I sent one back saying to have dad ready the following afternoon and I’d bring him out. There was no way, I was letting mum make me feel uncomfortable going to her house, I needed to ensure dad was ok and in good form. My son was heading into Newtownards anyway the following afternoon, so he picked up dad and brought him to our house. After a quick coffee, I asked if he would come with me to feed the horse and sheep. He could hardly get his boots on quickly enough! He has always loved animals and he thankfully has kept this love for furry creatures and nature. So he had a brilliant couple of hours feeding and brushing Freya and the two sheep she has for companionship.
Although I live in a pretty rural area, I do have the most fantastic neighbours, and I had explained the predicament previously to next door. Glenn had suggested I bring dad in for some chatter and coffee, so when we got back (clobbered in muck from the field) we headed in next door. As I watched dad and Glenn chatting and getting to know each other, I think I was glowing inside to see dad so happy, animated and able to hold a conversation about the motorbikes he’d been so interested in as a young man. He ate a great dinner and his diabetes blood results when checked were spot on. I had had a brief conversation as to what mum was doing while he was out. Of course he couldn’t remember. However, he made it clear she was still in foul form with him at least!
I returned dad much later than I’d expected as we’d had such a great day and went into the house with him, only to be greeted by the sulking 80 year old. This couldn’t go on, something needed to change. How though? I’d tried everything from shouting my frustration, to cajoling to ignoring. When a loved one is diagnosed with dementia (Vascular Dementia in dad’s case) it would seem, certainly in our case with mum also being elderly, that sometimes, the carer suffers even more than the patient. It’s a tough road. For me, patience has been the one thing that has prevented from combusting.
Next week – The way forward
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| Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer currently involved in community work. |
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