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Showing posts with label Lesley Stock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lesley Stock. Show all posts
Lesley Stock ✍ Since my early childhood, I have been an avid animal lover. 

 Of course, growing up in Belfast stretched to cats, dogs, gerbils and rabbits. When I moved out of the city in my early 20’s, I found a new appreciation for both farmers and their livestock, and it has only been in the last ten years, that I added farm animals to the ‘family’. Hens, horses and lambs all became part of rural life, and whilst I haven’t ventured into cattle, I get my cow-fix when the farmer regularly holds his beef cattle in the adjoining field to my property, and what stunning beasts they are.

It will come as no surprise after that intro, that I will never be cruel to an animal (and would move heaven and earth to reek karma on anyone who did) however, I’m not a vegetarian and am pragmatic in realising that at certain stages, it is a fact of rural life that animals at times need to be humanely culled.

When I first heard about the situation in Fivemiletown, my initial reaction was profound sadness and shock that all those animals were literally chased down and murdered in front of one another and in sight of the public. This was inconceivably cruel. It was only once I had started to see other online reports and speaking with farmers that I became aware of the background to this barbaric act by the very Dept who’s responsibility it is to ensure the welfare of livestock. 

These animals were not feral, they were not emaciated nor had they TB. This perfectly healthy herd had not been ‘euthanised’ as the Minister stated. Euthanasia is a humane form of taking away the suffering of a sick or injured animal - this was wanton murder of beasts. Reports from the Department of Agriculture, Environment and Rural Affairs (DAERA? stated initially that these animals were ‘feral.’ Again, I’d be ‘feral’ if someone came running at me with a sniper and was systematically killing my herd mates. In Elsie McGarvey's own words at the Parliamentary committee meeting on 10th August 2026, there was a history of TB testing – meaning they weren’t That feral that they couldn’t be tested. All of the animals bar one (most probably one of the calves) had been tagged and were registered as being on NIFAIS. (Northern Ireland Food Animal Information System)

If this was just a ‘one – off’ then, perhaps, Mr Muir's  position and that of Senior Vet staff would be safe. However, since this crisis has become public knowledge, we, the public, are being made aware of the way farmers and their livestock are and have been treated in recent years. I watched with tears in my eyes, a video of cattle lying in inches of their own blood, in the background the elderly farmer could be heard crying “them cattle aren’t even dead”. And they weren’t. 

Some readers will find the video extremely distressing. 


Is this the type of thing DAERA Scappaticci-like nutting squads do as part pf their culling? Whoever gunned down these animals lacked the decency to ensure they were dispatched humanely and quickly. There were at least two animals still writhing in the blood, sweat steaming off the dead compatriots next to them. It is one of the worse things I have had the misfortune to witness. 

Another video showed 2 pigs - animals for which a rescue plan was being devised - grazing on a hill, which had been verified as having been slaughtered needlessly by DAERA, and then the bodies left to rot! Every day, there are more verified horror stories coming out about the abject cruelty of a Government Department, even though Ms McGarvey seemed to infer that the photos seen online “had not been verified.” Is she suggesting that someone has fabricated the photos of healthy dead cattle? Surely it would have been easily verified had she asked those present at the cull if those were the cattle they murdered.

Now, turn the tables. Think of this: the owner of the cattle in Fivemiletown was convicted of animal cruelty, in other words, if he had have let his cattle writhe in pain in its own blood, what would his penalty be? Well, under the Welfare of Animals Act (Northern Ireland) 2011, the farmer could, quite rightly, be sentenced up to 5 years for unnecessary suffering, bearing in mind, this includes mental suffering. So, what is the difference between a farmer committing an offence and the very Dept which its very existence is to enforce and ensure the welfare of livestock?

The Department, and ultimately, the DAERA Minister and his senior lackies must be made accountable for the dreadful crimes of cruelty against defenceless healthy animals. He must answer why he allows this practice of killing healthy animals with such barbaric consequences. The buck stops with him.

In relation to the ‘independent’ (though not that independent and external) review, I understand why farmers have no faith in the independence of this appointment. To be fair to Dr Martin Blake, there is no-one within farming circles who are questioning his abilities, however, since DAERA and Irelands’ Department of Agriculture, Food and the Marine work closely together - and in the Department's own words the Humane Slaughter Team “assist in operations all over the Island of Ireland” - I would be of the opinion that Mr Muir could have found a more suitable ‘independent’ external reviewer. I would be worried that if DAERA are routinely practicing slaughter such as the videos have evidenced, it could also be assumed that the Dept in Ireland also have those practices. If this is the case, then an inquiry must be undertaken to ensure these policies change – and urgently.

I have been taken aback by the Alliance Party, yet again, blaming everyone else and gaslighting Unionist politicians for making this a political issue. Naomi Long must be blind, deaf and dumb not to have seen the reaction by ordinary people, from Both sections of the community who are equally appalled by the revelations we have seen. Agriculture is our biggest industry, using approximately 75% of our land for farming and food production, supporting at least 51,000 jobs for local people in areas where industry is scarce. Hopefully, the party is not attempting to make this scandal a matter of Green Vs Orange. I personally have been in contact with a woman from a farming background in Tyrone, who is just as horrified by the Dept and the scandalous practices that are taking place against (on the whole smaller farmers) day in day out.

And that leads me to wonder, why are the smaller farmers finding it so difficult to stay afloat and abide by the Department's stringent and oftentimes ridiculous rules? I, for one, want to buy and eat meat which is traceable to whichever farm it came from. That’s what puts our farming industry head and shoulders above other countries. We undoubtedly have the best food supply in Europe. So whilst we can capitalise on this amazing industry, Mr Muir seems to be pushing ahead for net zero. His predecessor had a tad more knowledge in that whilst he saw the need to look at the effects of climate change, he was in opposition to net zero as he was savvy enough to know that this would have a catastrophic impact on small farmers.

The attitude by the Minister in the ‘speech’ he gave in relation to the Ulster Farmers Union when he robustly and, I have to say, relatively aggressively told them that they need to butt out and that he’s not beholden to them was, quite frankly, just another example of the way Alliance treat the electorate. Mr Muir seems to forget that he in fact, Is there to be accountable to the public, including farmers!

So can we look back at DAERA’s shame in the needless slaughter (not euthanasia) of 50 healthy cattle, and see it as a view forward and the Slaughter of the small farmer? Time will tell.
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Slaughter Of The Small Farmers

Lesley Stock ✍ In case some reading this aren’t aware, I am a former RUC/PSNI officer, a mother of two adult children, conduct workshops in trauma and Peace and reconciliation both with adults and teenagers and have taken an interest in the political scene in NI pretty recently.

I would be the first to say that my experiences differ vastly to others, and I condemn Any form of murder, from wherever it comes and whilst I can accept and even understand in some instances, that people during the conflict here took up arms for a variety of reasons, I can never condone the deliberate taking of a life.

I am from a Unionist family; however, I can never remember being brought to the 12th parades as a child and only remember mum in the latter days of my gran’s life being coerced into taking her. My only experience of the parades is having to police them every year and it was not a duty I looked forward to. I have to say though, that Belfast is a totally different atmosphere (certainly within North Belfast) than other areas. I have been publicly critical of the Orange Order and of the way some loyalists conduct themselves at parades, and in fact year long.

Having said all that, in the past few days I have seen what looks like inflated misrepresentation by people who should know better. Journalists, political figures, so called political commentators - all have had their digs at the PUL community, in some cases spinning in order to try to score points against it.

We saw Sinead McLaughlin weighing in from Derry to castigate the 12th by tweeting:

Everybody leaves, everything closes down, you would struggle to get a restaurant open in Belfast on the lead up to and the couple of days after. It is a disaster for Tourism.

Can I categorically state now that Ms McLaughlin is not factual? Restaurants were busy, shops were busy, museums were open, as was St Georges Market - and all were bringing in revenue. Even in my own area, all restaurants were booming, petrol stations were open etc, so that’s Sineads’ myth busted. Then only today, Chris Donnelly decided to weigh in with the same type of argument.

A journalist wrote about their ‘trauma and scars’ as a youth and having almost to evacuate the awfulness of the 12th. If this was not one of the most sickening displays of unadulterated sectarianism and ‘poor me’ I have had the misfortune to read in quite some time, I don't really know what is. Only that I am aware of some of their past, I knew that they were well aware of North Belfast prior to having to report from the riots.

What should have been homed in on by all was the disgusting and vile effigy and (with some headers in the Loyalist community claiming this to be‘art’) of the boat with immigrants on the top of Moygashel bonfire. The silence from some Unionist politicians was deafening on this utter display of racist hate and intimidation. Quite rightly this is being investigated as a hate incident which is however, different to a hate crime. Where were the decent community of Moygashel when this disgusting display was being raised to the top of this pyre?

What should be reported on are the good works going on within communities, people who, prior to what we call ‘peace’, would have never come in contact with each other. Journalists and commentators should also challenge any attempt to stir hatred and division from wherever between the two communities, showing that it is counter-productive, juvenile and wrong. Journalists should be impartial when reporting on events rather than propel their own sensationalist agendas onto the unsuspecting public for clicks and drama.

We should all take ownership for calling out the wrongs in our own communities. All sides spouting vile nonsense only serves the purpose of dragging us back and has zero positive impact on our society.  
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Hypocrisy Should Be Made An Offence In This Place!

Lesley Stock ✍ Dear Politicians in the British, Irish and NI Governments,

I do hope you have all had a wonderful time in America, some of you, at our expense! Can I, however, bring attention to your failings as politicians, in particular to Reconciliation of our island, people and the legacy of this fractured community? 

You, (though perhaps not all) may remember agreements, which were made by yourselves either personally, or preceding members of your parties. So … Let me remind you in chronological order of those agreements made.

1998 – The Good Friday Agreement was a legally binding agreement set out in legislation i.e. Law, so can I refresh your memories as to your obligations in relation to reconciliation and legacy? First and foremost, your collective conduct as Ministers must at all times be: Accountable to users of services, the community and through the Assembly, for the activities within their responsibilities, their stewardship of public funds and the extent to which key performance targets and objectives have been met. You see the word Accountable? Well, in my opinion, you’re not.

Now can I draw your attention to Strand 3 in relation to Reconciliation and victims of violence? You agreed that it is ‘essential to acknowledge and Address, the suffering of the victims of violence as a Necessary element of reconciliation.’ Do you all think that establishing a Victims Commissioner negated your responsibility to actively promote and action everything else you initially agreed on? You also all agreed that the aims of the justice system were to be ‘responsive to the community’s’ concerns’.

Stop Press – We all have concerns in relation to the agenda, inconsideration of all victims and legality of the proposed legacy bill which the Tories are intending to introduce! Merely ‘denouncing this proposed Bill on social media’ is Not what I call actively doing anything about this, nor is it adhering to your agreements.

Ok, so the GFA| wasn’t perfect, so yet again, you all went back to the drawing board and set about drafting a New agreement in 2006. At least you recognised back then, that certain parts of the initial agreement still (after 8 Years!) had not been implemented, namely, the establishment of the Victims Commission!! So you all trooped off to Scotland and drafted yet another agreement, not taking into consideration the urgent need for positive action towards reconciliation.

By 2014, there was a need for yet Another agreement! To think that No steps had ever really been taken in response in relation to addressing some of the most divisive issues in Northern Ireland, namely Flags, Identity/Culture is quite frankly astonishing, however, on the plus side, a Commission was agreed to be established by June 2015 and it was to produce a report by mid 2017. By 2014, the GFA had been in operation 16 Years, so why was there even a need to discuss ‘transition to long term peace and stability’? Why had this not been one of the main focuses back in 1998? Perhaps some of you could inform me where I can access the Centralised Oral History Archive which was to be established 6 years ago, or indeed point me to the report of the Research Project? I mean, they’ve had 7 years to research this surely? I see the Independent Commission on Information Retrieval was to be established – but wait!! Another lame duck, yet another part of the agreement signed by all, which yet again, has let down the most vulnerable and traumatised in our society! What were you all doing about positive changes for victims, for survivors to deal with a real chance of reconciling our past?

As for New Decade, New Approach in 2019? Please folks, don’t make me sick. I honestly don’t think (but happy to be proven wrong on any of my observations) anything has been changed, implemented or indeed reported on. The report on flags, identity and culture certainly hasn’t been. In fact that report has been blocked after spending 100’s of thousands of taxpayers money in commissioning it! It certainly doesn’t seem to have been a New Approach, just the same B.S. regurgitated in abject apathy – especially in relation to victims, the past, legacy or justice.

I’m not a political anorak, I’m not what I would describe an ‘activist.’ I am most definitely however, a mother, a daughter and a concerned citizen who merely wants to see us all living an inclusive life, as free from the bitter sectarian rubbish that has blighted our community for decades as possible. I want You, the political leaders, to stand up for us, to fight for us in order to achieve that goal, to respect the hurt and trauma that victims families and survivors are still dealing with today. I want you to acknowledge in a practical manner which will Change the situation for them, not merely spout empty platitudes the odd time on your social media pages, or in the odd interview you give! I want you to start becoming Accountable To Us, something which you’re not at the moment, because when challenged, it would seem that the favourite term is ‘That’s not my department’ ‘That’s someone else’s fault.’ 

Stop the Blame Game, take control of the issues, create merry hell until you get those issues heard and dealt with by whoever you need to lobby…. Stop with the attitude that it’s everyone else’s fault, consider Your actions, Your language when talking, because as far as I can see, far too many of you are not adhering to your agreed principals and obligations in that respect.

Start engaging, start promoting, start being accountable to those of us who have no voice!  
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Legacy ✒ An Open Letter To All Politicians

Lesley Stock ✒ Much has been written and debated over the decades globally, about the sensitive issue of abortion. 

It would seem everyone, male, female and those in between have an opinion. Of course, I’m no different!

Did Norma Nelson/McCorvey ever change her mind about the (not one baby but three!) she gave up for adoption? Norma aka Jane Roe, until recently was not a name I was familiar with. Norma was the drug addict, poverty stricken pregnant woman who took the United States government to court for breaching her ‘constitutional right’ to have an abortion. The fact that only now decades later, the Supreme Court has reversed the decision which effectively legalised abortion in America for decades, has now discovered that the American Constitution hadn’t actually even mentioned what should be done when a woman for whatever reason didn’t want to carry on with her pregnancy!

The more I searched for information about this woman, the more confused I became. It would ultimately seem that she was a bit of an ‘actress’, a word she brazenly is quoted as describing herself as. I was left wondering was this woman the female version of Walter Mitty or was she ever really a product of her environment, maybe both? She was allegedly in an abusive marriage when she became pregnant for the third time, after already giving two previous babies up for adoption. Her first child Melissa was the only child she ever had any real contact with, however, she accuses her mother of misleading her and having her sign adoption papers without her knowledge. Her mother disputes this account and says Norma was well aware she signed over Melissa for adoption. She then became pregnant again, with a second daughter and signed this child over straight away for adoption. In 1969, the 21 year old became pregnant again and reported that she had been raped, (later admitting that she had lied!) This instigated the famous case Roe-Wade case, and although eventually she won her right to an abortion, the case had taken so long that her third daughter Shelly had been born and placed into care, being adopted and never knowing who her mother was until around 1989.

It would seem that Norma was indeed a very mixed up woman, initially being active in the pro-abortion campaign, later to say she was being used, only to turn her back on pro-life campaign by stating in an interview she backed the anti-abortion campaigners as she was being paid. She was Catholic, she was ‘born again’ Christian, she was straight, she was lesbian.

It would seem that even prior to gaining fame and notoriety, there’s no doubt she had a troubled mind and distorted view of the world. McCorvey died of natural causes in 2017 at the age of 69, having reportedly said to Shelly (the baby involved in the famous case) that she ‘should thank her for not having an abortion,’ to which Shelly snapped "What! I'm supposed to thank you for getting knocked up . . .   and then giving me away?" Taking aside the three unwanted pregnancies, my opinion of this woman is not a pleasant one.

So, am I against abortion? No, absolutely not! But, as a mother I would have found it close to impossible to have terminated any of the lives of my children once I saw the flickering beating miniscule heart. I, also, as a mother, cannot predict what I would do if I had have been told that my baby was severely mentally or physically impaired. I thank God I didn’t have to make that painful decision.

And now that I’ve brought God into the equation . . .  Many religious debates have taken place over this very issue. The sanctity of human life, the (in their words, certainly not mine) murder of an unborn child. What gives these people, many of them men, the right to dictate what is right and wrong? What gives them the right to abuse, accuse and castigate the decision of a woman which oftentimes is the most painful decision she will ever have to deal with? It would seem that especially in the U.S.A. those who so vehemently abhor the often necessary termination of a pregnancy, are only too willing to excuse the brutal murder of doctors. In 2009, Dr George Tiller was murdered whilst at church by Scott Roeder. In 1993, Dr Tiller had survived a gun attack by Rachelle Shannon, who shot the Obgyn in both arms.

I learned of this murder whilst reading a tweet by a lady Suzanne @SJohnsdottire. Her thread on Sunday 26th June, immediately captivated me. Her story was of her agonising journey of pregnancy, leading to the heart-breaking decision she was forced to make to have a termination of her second child who had died and was poisoning her. Her matter of fact though eloquent description of her and her husband's journey was just crushing to read. How can anyone say that a woman should be forced to carry on with a non-viable pregnancy when it will end her life as well?

How would those pro-life advocates feel if they had a daughter, who, falls pregnant after being raped? Would they force that victim to be faced with the daily trauma of having to watch that child and be reminded of the attack? I do know a woman who was able to carry on with the pregnancy after rape, she is one of the strongest women I have had the pleasure of knowing, she loves her daughter as much as any mother loves their child and she never said that she had considered an abortion. But, every woman is not the same, every situation is not the same. Should we judge and castigate a woman who decides that having a baby who would have severe mental and physical problems and have a limited life is just too much to bear? In all honesty, I cannot decide what I would have done.

I understand the idea that a woman should decide and it is her body, her right. I get that, I really do, but on the other hand, I have a serious problem with the likes of Norma McCorvey, who seems to have never heard of birth control! In these times, there is just no excuse to have one unwanted pregnancy after another. This is whereby I completely contradict myself in that any woman who cannot organise themselves with some form of birth control, time and time again, should certainly not be allowed to avail of ‘on demand’ abortion services. To use an abortion as a form of retrospective birth control is beyond ridiculous, not to mention what damage is being caused internally to that woman. Gone are the excuses that one's religious beliefs do not allow for birth control, yet we’ll pop into the clinic several times to end an unwanted pregnancy. Thankfully, it would seem that the Church has less power or psychological hold over people nowadays. I have always said, religion, faith can be a good thing, calming, healing. Where I take exception with clerics of whatever denomination or faith is when they ‘dictate,’ when they attempt to bully, embarrass, guilt trip one of their ‘flock’ into submission, or encourage something which will harm, either physically or mentally.

My views and opinions are just that, mine. My body is absolutely mine, to do with as I please. We all have choices, we all hate anyone ‘preaching’ what we should do. As a believer in democracy I also believe that women should have the ability to have a termination if the criteria is based on facts for that individual woman. I do think that abortion should be strictly regulated, medical advice and mental health support structures given to the woman and her partner if there is one before and after the decision – whatever that decision is. My daughter is 23, studying law at Liverpool university, we’ve had the discussion, ‘if she got pregnant.’ Personally, I have told her we could work things out, I would help her and her baby in any way l could, emotionally, financially and practically. But – the end decision would have to be hers, and I as her mum, would accept and live with that decision.

What I don’t think I can ever however accept is ‘on demand’ abortion, purely because a woman is lazy, is constantly having unwanted pregnancies. Our Health Service suffers enough.
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

There Will Never Be A Right Answer To The Abortion Debate

Lesley Stock ✒ In recent weeks, I’ve been astounded to see victims of the conflict here, troll and bitch about certain Victims Advocacy groups.

It would seem that Twitter is not only the toxic forum we all knew it was, but that it gives people with an axe to grind far more scope to harass. 

Of course, being able to challenge is a welcome freedom, However, what I saw was clear, unadulterated harassment of both a highly respected advocacy charity for victims of the troubles, along with their advocacy workers, with a constant tirade and ‘tagging in’ of both concerned. 

Then, these people had the brass neck to complain when they were blocked by the charity! So what was their gripe? Why would victims of UVF and INLA violence go on a tirade of abuse against an advocacy agency such as South East Fermanagh Foundation (SEFF) and pick out one of their workers, who has also experienced the traumatic loss of a loved one?

As far as I (and many others who witnessed the shameful performance on Twitter) could gather, it is because SEFF has reached out to security force members and their bereaved to offer support. The fact that they have also offered support to victims of republican and loyalist paramilitaries in equal measure, seems to have alluded those throwing the accusations and lies.

There are without a doubt, hundreds of thousands of victims, not only here in Ireland, but spread across Europe, who have suffered at the hands of both terrorists and I should add, security forces. No-one, well, certainly not I, will ever say that innocent victims of any organisation relating to the troubles are not victims, and shouldn’t be supported in whatever way those in the sector can. 

Can we explore some terms widely used in the framework of talking about victims? You will note that I quite deliberately said ‘innocent victims’. So, what Is an innocent? Innocent definition: a person not being guilty of a particular crime/act. And victim? a person who has been attacked, injured or killed as a result of a crime . . .  also relates to other types of crime where the person can be a victim.

As is usual for this place, we can’t even seem to agree on the term ‘victim’! Whatever anyone thinks, the facts are that the definition of victim in relation to the Victims compensation scheme, as interpreted by the Dept of Justice (NI). In this case it is more telling as to what is Not a victim for the purposes of compensation. And this is where I have seen real issues in that for purposes of being paid under the scheme, a ‘victim’ claiming must not have a criminal record, or have had any causal input into their disablement.

Even the previous Commissioner for Victim’s and Survivors NI, Judith Thompson has stated that there ‘Is No Moral Equivalence Between Those Who Have Caused Harm And Those Who Have Suffered Harm.’

So why are some former paramilitaries and their families making such a song and dance about this? In my view, the families of those terrorists who got themselves killed or injured are without a doubt still entitled to mourn and their loss of that father, son, husband is as painful as anyone who has lost a loved one in such traumatic circumstances. But at the same time, can we as a society of (what we’d like to hope) are citizens who adhere to the rule of law, even if oftentimes it is an ass, allow those people who would deliberately go out with the intention of Making more victims, claim that they are as entitled as those who never did anything to warrant their trauma/death? And what of former terrorists who were bona fide victims, those who lost say, a parent in the conflict, but then went on to carry out atrocities themselves? Do they still have the right to call themselves a victim? I guess loosely they are a victim, but the second they went out with the intention to cause someone else injury or death, they forfeited that right.

And going back to some ‘phrases’ widely used when speaking of victimhood. I’ve heard the phrase, in the specific context from some victims charities that ‘there is no hierarchy of victims’. This was discussed in a paper by QUB entitled ‘The hierarchy of Victims in Northern Ireland: A Framework for critical analysis.'  I’m not going to go into it in detail, but I did find much of its analysis really interesting, and it went into much detail outlining the different ‘hierarchies’ of victimhood. Until last year I was of the same opinion until I realised that this phrase was being used to quite blatantly allow for convicted terrorists to be shown the same acknowledgment as the likes of the horrific murder of the Quinn Brothers Jason, Mark and Richard murdered by UVF in 1998, or 6 month old Nivruti Islania murdered along with her father Mick Islania, a Corporal in the RAF based in Germany as their car was sprayed with bullets. There can be Zero comparison, moral or financial, for a terrorist who blew his own hands (or in one case) manhood off, and the mother of the little boys or a baby taken in such grotesque ways.

Again we come back to why was a victim and her employers being trolled so mercilessly by other ‘victims’? Some of the comments and posts were so vile that a newspaper contacted the victim themselves about her having been forced off Twitter. I mean, did these uncaring specimens not realise that if they want a support network to assist them, there are hundreds of outlets for which they may seek help for their obvious trauma? I didn’t see The Pat Finucane Centre, or RFJ being dealt with in the same heinous way SEFF were slandered. There are of course different advocacy groups for victims who require specific assistance. I have no issue with someone heading to either of these two advocates, renowned for taking on Republican/ Nationalist victims who wish to take a case against the state or loyalist paramilitaries. In fact I would be appalled and disgusted if I saw them being abused constantly (numerous abusive tweets per day over the space of a couple of weeks).

There are countless victims of our past, the majority innocent, who are trying to just get on with their lives in some form or another, The assistance is there for every kind of victim. So use it, don’t abuse by creating more victims. It isn’t doing anything for your fight for justice.
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

When Is A Victim Not A Victim?

Lesley Stock ✒ In all the time of the troubles we, as a community, were all hit by the inhumanity of our fellow man. We witnessed atrocities, murders and destruction based on someone’s firmly held beliefs. (The wrongs or rights of those for another time).

We all remember the horror of hearing in 2011 the heart-breaking story of a talented, beautiful young teacher having been brutally murdered in Mauritius whilst on her honeymoon. That young woman was Michaela McAreavey, daughter of Micky Harte. The fact that she was a Catholic never entered our heads. She was one of us and that was enough to grieve for her and her family. That was, until a few days ago, when details of a band at Dundonald Orange Lodge broke its foul stench onto the internet.

The first I was made aware of ‘that’ video, was by chance on Twitter, and unfortunately I was stupid enough to watch it. I sat for some time in the kitchen, wondering had I actually misheard the words of the song drunken louts were singing in a hall. Then, details of the words were published and I sat and cried, not only for the Harte/McAreavey families, but for the disgust I felt for being born a Protestant, for I knew that some would ‘cash in’ (not literally) on the premise that ‘all prods were sectarian bastards and of course, this kind of rabble are indicative of the PUL community.' And then, there it was, including the trolls who have nothing better to do all day other than abuse anything Protestant or British.

These idiots in the video, thankfully, have been now put under investigation for what I can only describe as one of the worst cases of vile, sectarian behaviour I’ve had the misfortune to witness. But, apart from wondering how the heck a human can sit down and make up such grossly offensive words to a song about another beautiful human purely based on her religion, it then struck me as the condemnation poured in from the Orange Order and others, that this has been going on in band halls and Orange Halls for years. This, hopefully would be the time whereby the Orange Order had a prime opportunity to get their house in order.

With the unprecedented revulsion from every community now being on the world's stage, I’m hoping that the Orange Order can put robust measures in place to eradicate this type of sectarianism within its ranks. Some have been calling for it for decades, and with every song, every drunken action by either bandsmen or members of the OO, it has been (quite rightly) fueling the gap between the two communities.

For the loyalists who cry ‘our culture has to be acknowledged and protected’ I say – you’ve just lost your battle if nothing changes.

The only way that you can have any credence in that argument is if both members of bands and OO members are now held to account by strict sanctions if found to be in breach of a code of conduct. And nothing short of booting out will suffice!

It came as no surprise to me that I learned that the vermin in the video hadn’t even marched! This show of drunken loutish behaviour occurred even before what was to be a celebration of the Platinum Jubilee. A family day of celebration I might add. Then again, some would say the 12th celebrations are that as well. Perhaps in the rural areas, but never in the city.

The Orange Order should now dump any band who is drunk prior to a march – even should it be one member. When bands are prohibited from marching they’ll soon get the message. However, the leaders of the Orange Order have to implement and enforce these rigidly, otherwise - like spoilt kids of parents who always back down and give them their way - the sectarianism will just carry on. Now is the time for a turn in PUL actions which give CRN communities the ammunition to call for their demise. But even whilst typing this, I reflect that some within the PUL haven’t really had their heads screwed on for years!!

If you want your culture to be respected, start having respect for yourselves! You can’t complain about eradication of culture, when that culture breeds the kind of vile sectarianism we as a nation witnessed last week. Get the act sorted:

  • have events people of all ages, classes and religion can attend without the trappings of drunks, foul imbeciles
  • have a zero alcohol tolerance for participants and ‘hangers on’, and by all means get snattered at the end of the parade/event if that’s your thing.

The organisers now have a chance to turn the tables. I only hope they take it.
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Maybe This Could Be The Start Of ‘Respect’

Lesley Stock ✒ The Way Forward.

Dad

After the fall-out with mum – things gradually got back to normal. I think perhaps one or two of mum’s friends had had a word with her, because she was smiling with dad again, and seemed to be coping better with him than ever. He certainly was in better form and back to his jovial, daft ways.

I have come to realise that mum, will always, from here on in, will be up and down with dad. She knows that his illness is only going one way, and it will get much worse. We don’t know how long it will take for dad to begin to really deteriorate, but we are expecting it to be perhaps a couple more years. Until then, however, we are all just living a day at a time. There is no room, nor time to argue, time is something that we don’t have. So, what better way to spend whatever time is left of dad as we know him, than laughing and making more memories.

Looking at the whole scenario now, I have to say, I never ever expected my dad to be the one who would be afflicted with dementia. I wouldn’t have been surprised if mum had been diagnosed, but never dad. It just shows that anyone can fall foul of the disease, and it is a hateful SOB. I know that he is deteriorating slowly at the minute, and I’m hoping the tablets that the Consultant put him on are at least stretching out the inevitable. We have never mentioned the word ‘dementia’ to him, I wanted to say so many times, dad you’re not remembering things because … but Mum in her wisdom thinks that it would upset him too much, or that he would think we were just telling him that, and in turn he would get defensive and paranoid. So the ‘D’ word, is never mentioned. I guess it’s up to each individual family to assess what they think is best for them and their loved one. I actually think he is aware of his condition, but for it to be said out loud, to him, that may be a different story.

He is definitely becoming more paranoid. Any time that mum and I are just talking, he butts in with ‘What are you two talking about me for?’. He has become very ‘nosey,’ which, in fact, was never a trait of my dad. He follows mum or me around the house, literally looking over our shoulders, especially if we’re on our phones texting. Mum used to get frustrated at him but now she’ll automatically say, ‘David love, what is it you need?’ He’ll then again ask if we’re talking about him, and when we show him what we’re doing he seems content again, and goes back to his recliner. Mum has reconciled herself to the fact that sometimes dad just won’t get out of bed and apparently the diabetic nurse who was in one morning, tried to cajole him out. He was having none of it! It ended up with the nurse getting frustrated and dad then deciding he wanted to be a baby and made all these baby noises at the nurse! Mum happened to be on the phone with me at the time and she was mortified, but I told her to let the nurse get on with it instead of her. I have to admit, I had a giggle at this cantankerous old man making an idiot out of the nurse and himself.

Some days are worse than others, but again, that is what is to be expected with this disease which ravishes the very brain cells of the victim. I do sometimes, when I’m worn out myself, or when I’m not in such a buoyant mood, wonder what the future holds for my funny, intelligent, caring, strong daddy. Will he become incontinent? Get violent? Lose his speech and faculties. Christ, even the thought of it literally makes me feel weary and sick.

Shortly after his vascular dementia was diagnosed, a routine scan showed a mass on his pancreas. I remember talking with his oncology consultant when he rang me to explain the results. I know that pancreatic cancer has a very high mortality rate and before I knew it, I was telling the consultant that I hoped if it was cancer, that it would take him quickly. At that stage I was trying to get my head around the diagnosis and was quite a mess if I admit so myself. I couldn’t bear to think, even back then, that the dad I knew, the man mum had been with for 65 years and married for 59, was going to change and become a shell. I wanted him to go quickly, not have this awful disease take a piece of his brain day by day. I even got really uptight at our disgusting legislation, which unlike Switzerland, won’t even consider end of life treatment here. As is often said, one wouldn’t let an animal suffer like that.

The day came for dads’ scope to try to see exactly what this mass was. I have now started going into all appointments, as mum is finding that her concentration and memory for details is lacking. I’m putting it down to the constant stress. When the consultant came out to me, he apologised for the length of time he had me waiting. Lesley, I’m not sure what has happened, but I’ve scoped right around the pancreas and there’s nothing there! I could have hugged the poor man. Of course, when told, mum attributed it to a miracle and the power of prayer, and although I’m not religious, I have to say, I said a wee ‘Thank you’ to whoever, whatever, is watching over us.

So, you now have a little insight into this condition called vascular dementia. It will eventually ravish the patient, but it doesn’t need to be a critical situation straight away. I’m sure every family is different, but I’ve found coping with it, acceptance of it, easier than I thought. For me, I’d rather enjoy every day I have with him, laugh when possible, be there for mum as support, and just try to live as normal a life as possible. Easier said than done, for no matter how much of a positive outlook one has, it most certainly is tiring, frustrating and ultimately just very very sad.

I will continue to ask for help when needed, continue to love this adorable man until either his dying day, or indeed mine, for tomorrow is promised to no-one. If you are going through similar, take comfort that I, as another carer would be there for you all the way in spirit. 

If you are having doubts as to whether your loved one is showing signs of dementia or Alzheimer’s, run it passed someone, the quicker a diagnosis is made the better. There are so many charities out there, The Alzheimer’s Society, Help the Aged, Elderly care, or even get in contact with Anthony via TPQ and he can get a message to me. You are Not Alone; don’t ever think you are.
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Dementia Diaries Part @ VII

Lesley Stock ✒ The Fallout.

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
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Dementia Diaries @ Ⅵ

Lesley Stock ✒ Walkabout.

Dad

When mum had taken to her bed due to not coping with dad, I had rung Jenny, the Navigator for Dementia sufferers and their carers. She is lovely and, to me, an angel! I had explained the issues I was having and also the fact that I thought mum was on the edge. I booked an appointment with her for mum and I to see her to, yet again, go over the tips and pointers we should be following.

The day of the appointment loomed and I really thought that this time, all would be well. If mum didn’t ‘get’ it, and didn’t think that I knew what was happening, then perhaps she would listen to a professional. After all, like mum, I am still learning day by day about how to cope. I play things ‘by ear’, but since I myself was diagnosed with PTSD and medically retired, I have found a patience with life, and people, that I never thought possible of me. Maybe it’s the fact that I and dad have always been really close, we have the same love of life, the same wicked sense of humour and I wonder sometimes, do I love him too much, Want to protect him too much? It’s not that I don’t adore mum, but she can be difficult, like dad, also stubborn. Mum and I have had a fractured relationship in the past, although until now were getting on brilliantly. I want so much to protect them, to look after and care for them both, and make life as good in their last years as possible. After all, they have looked after me all my life, given me love, support and understanding for 54 years! It’s my turn now to repay the love.

So, mum and I get to the unit in Ards for what I think is the answer to my prayers… Hmmmm, perhaps not! As she gets out of the car, she, (for the first time) says ‘So why are we even seeing her?’ My heart dropped, lying doesn’t come easily and I think I’ve lied more in the last year to my folks than I have in my lifetime! So rather than lie, I pretended not to hear her!

Jenny has a soft understanding way about her and as we sat and mum explained that she wasn’t quite sure why we were here, Jenny asked in such a lovely way how things were going…. Of course, I’d explained prior to the meeting, that mum was getting really frustrated with dad – and all the other issues. Eventually, only in the way a professional can, she teased out of mum that yes, she was feeling a bit of pressure and dad was becoming more agitated at her. That he didn’t even put the television on during the day so was just sitting in the living room. He wasn’t listening to a thing she said and had almost ‘turned off’ to her voice. The following points were Jenny’s advice:

  • If you do want to give him something to do and he forgets – don’t worry or admonish if he doesn’t do it, leave it, for he will have forgotten the task.
  • Take time out for yourself but make sure dad has lots of company too.
  • If he doesn’t get out of bed, stay with him until he does, yes its frustrating, but it’s the only way.
  • If he isn’t showing any interest in the T.V. (something which he loved before) put the television on for him.
  • He loves music, always had, so put on his favourite DVD of Andre Rieu or his gospel choirs.
  • There is a dementia group who use song – perhaps he would like to join that?
  • There is a respite service for carers, she would have someone come in a couple of times a week to keep dad company and chitter away about whatever, while mum could go out and get her head showered.
  • Dementia sufferers can’t deal with choices, their brain can’t cope, so asking what he wants for tea, is confusing and irritating for him. Just make something you know he’ll like.

All of this was met with mum nodding her head in half agreement. She was saying what she thought the professional wanted to hear. She was correct in saying though, that at the start of the dementia diagnosis, another person had told her to keep him active and that’s why she was asking him to do things. She just didn’t realise that ‘keeping him active’ didn’t mean giving him chores around the house lol!! At this I had to step in. I felt like mum was making a liar out of me, so I told Jenny about mum sending him down to the neighbours house…. She denied point blank! ‘I did not’ she spat!! What could I say, apart from mum – you did! But, I wasn’t going to argue in front of Jenny.

Was that hour in with the navigator worth it? Only time would tell…

As soon as we got out, the first thing mum said was ‘I can see your father allowing a stranger in to ‘keep him company’… So – there we had it, mum was making decisions for dad, yet again. I tried to say that dad loves company and they’d only be a stranger for a week or so, perhaps the first visit I could be there too? No, he won’t have it… My head was jumbled with confusion as to why everything that was asked or advised, it wasn’t dad saying no, it was mum. I said nothing, for it was left that the team to arrange the respite visit was to ring mum. Already I was despondent, but was giving mum the benefit of the doubt.

Two days after the appointment, mum had arranged to go to the solicitor to get ‘things in order’. A friend was to take her and I was to call around 2 pm to take her to another friends house as they were visiting a chum who was in a nursing home. When I went in – dad was in the living room, staring at the four walls again. I swept in and promptly put the TV on for him and we had a bit of a giggle at the news, for a woman had stabbed her husband to death and when police arrived after she’d almost merrily rung 999 to inform them of his demise, the Police bodycam at the scene had captured her ‘confessing’ and was revelling in her achievement! Yes, that’s how our humour works, the poor hubby, but if you’d have seen the footage, it was really funny in a morbid, sick way!

As mum and I were walking out the door, she shouts in from the kitchen ‘David, would you brush the kitchen floor?’ The usual uninterested reply came back from the living room ‘Aye’. So, we merrily went on our way.

Anyone who knows me is used to me clambering into bed early with ‘the boys’ ( Two huge big lanky lurchers!) and I had done just that on Wednesday evening when the phone rang. I couldn’t get to it on time and when it rang again and up came mum's number. I knew something was wrong! ‘Lesley, your dad has disappeared’ These were the words I’d been dreading…. Oh God, now, he had taken to ‘wandering’! I literally cut the call off and was in the car within a minute – tyres screeching on the road out of my home. The weather was atrocious and there was flooding on the country roads. The normal journey takes me around 10/11 mins to get to Ards, I made it in 7!! Just as I was pulling into the driveway, I got a message from mum, ‘He was in the boot of the car’.

As I got out of the car, even more sick now than I had been on the journey over, I dreaded as to what I would say when I got into the house! There was dad, all hopped up in a coat, flat tweed cap still on his head, arms folded. I looked across at mum, face like thunder. There was definitely something not quite right here, apart from the fact that my dad, who doesn’t even take his dog out for a walk anymore never just gets up and leaves at 10 at night with wind blowing a gale and torrential rain!

Dad was the first to talk. ‘What are you doing here?’ I was worried about you dad! It was the strangest atmosphere in the house. After a while, I gathered from mum when I got her on her own what had transpired….

She had come home and he had asked where she’d been ‘all this time’. The kitchen floor hadn’t been brushed out (not surprisingly to me!) so she’d started cleaning as soon as she came in! Then dad asked what was for tea. Think that mum must have thrown a wobbly, for she ranted that ‘he isn’t going to keep me chained to the house or treat me like a skivvy!’ I admit, I blew a fuse! Didn’t she realise that he can’t be left alone for any great length of time? He wonders where she is, not due to any ‘possessive’ reasons, but it must be lonely for him when she takes herself out. The fact that he then backchatted her to the point whereby she thought he was going to hit her, also didn’t come as any surprise to me, for at this stage I felt like shaking her myself. Didn’t she see – whatever dad said to her in his frustration and confusion, wasn’t dad talking, for he has never once laid a hand on her – or indeed me. I was beyond angry at this stage and shouted – ‘Don’t you get it you foolish woman, it’s not dad talking, it’s the disease!’ I had spoken to dad before confronting mum upstairs, where she’d stomped upstairs and taken herself to bed. I asked him why he’d gone out on such a night. Perhaps it was the answer I was given which had punched me in the heart, ‘Well I wasn’t going to be screamed at like that all the time.’ I felt a sadness and for the first time since the diagnosis, a pity for this man who was always the ‘strong’ one…

He refused to come to my house for the evening, but when he heard the commotion upstairs, he came up and told me to leave it. I then felt pangs of guilt as well for allowing mum's inability to realise what was staring her in the face, to get the better of me. I left – sick to the pit of my stomach as to how we as a family were going to get through this….

Next – The fallout.
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Dementia Diaries @ Ⅴ

Lesley Stock ✒ Crisis Point.

Dad

My mum has always been plagued with depression and mental health problems herself. This started when I was a baby and nearly died by ingesting caustic soda. Apparently, she never forgave herself as I had crawled into a cupboard at 13 months old and got into the jar. Then, when I joined the police, she constantly worried about me, until in 1999, she had a nervous breakdown. 

Dad had always been the solid-as-a-rock person, he was always calm and seemed to just ‘know’ what to do in a crisis. Whenever someone close to me in the family was critically ill, or had passed away, I knew something was wrong before I picked up the phone, because it would have been dad ringing. Thankfully, he still has that stoic personality, but I have noticed in the past two years or so, he has become slightly more agitated and impatient as time goes by.

Now, dad has never been the tidiest of men. As long as I can remember, mum’s constant ‘David, would you pick that up!’ echoed around the house! Don’t get me wrong, he did the ‘man’ things around the house and garden, and is a great cook, and can still manage to get by in the kitchen. Although he has a tendency to forget to turn the gas hob off and of course, leaves the kitchen like a bombsite. But his procrastination has always been a big bug bear with mum. Now, he literally cannot remember what she asks him to do and no matter how many times I’ve told her that she shouldn’t give him lots of chores, she still insists on doing it! 

I think perhaps her denial is the key to why she refuses to accept he won’t or can’t do certain things. Is she perhaps trying to hold onto the last independence she thinks he has? I’m not sure, for although I’ve tried to have the conversation with her, she insists she knows he has vascular dementia and understands the disease. Unfortunately, what she says, and her reaction and actions, seem to be two completely different things.

While we had been on holiday, mum fell and dislocated her shoulder, chipping a bone in her arm as well, and ended up in a sling and unable to do anything for what we’ve been told up to 3 months! It then fell to me to look after them both, going around to their house 2-3 times a day, getting mum showered and dressed, making sure they had enough to eat and washing and ironing. To say I’ve been knackered since coming home is an understatement and quite frankly, another holiday is badly needed!

Before we even left Crete, I had rung the Short-Term Assessment Team at Ards hospital who were great and called out to see mum to see what kind of package they needed in the short term. After two weeks of me running around like a woman possessed, I asked her why no-one was coming in to wash and dress her in the mornings. ‘Oh, the lady came out, but sure I told her you’ve been great and doing it, so told them not to worry.’ 

To say I could have thumped her is nowhere near what I wanted to do!! Apparently though, this is common in the elderly, especially with those who have led a very independent and busy life. The thought of having a stranger come in and tend to their personal hygiene etc is just too much for them to take and they would rather family members take on that role. I however, am the only child, so everything seems to fall on me!

As the weeks passed and mum was still incapacitated, I tried to only call when they needed shopping, or to take them to hospital/GP appointments. I was making sure they had food cooked and I have to say, their friends from the church came in regularly and helped as well. 

I was again getting the constant phone calls from mum, relentlessly harping on about dad. Whether it was the fact he wasn’t getting up out of bed when she wanted him to, wasn’t shaving or showering, even down to doing chores. (I hit the roof when she told me she’d asked him to walk down to a neighbour's house and ask the surname of another neighbour!!) She couldn’t see why he’d point blank said No! Even when I explained, by the time he’d walked there, he’d have forgotten what he was even there for, she still was insistent that ‘he knows where Sylvia lives’!

I could see she was nearly on the knife edge and again tried to bring the subject up of them coming to live with me, even for a trial period. I myself was exhausted and knew that at least if they were under the roof, I’d be here to take the pressure off mum plus wouldn’t be spending precious time travelling to and from their house. Again, it was met with a forceful No. She had come up with every excuse under the sun, she didn’t like the village I lived in, her friends were in Ards, Dad didn’t want to come over. So, an ultimatum was given. Come over, or accept extra help from the Elderly care team.

In hindsight, I may have been too harsh on her. For a couple of days after the ultimatum was given, she took to her bed and was a mess! She refused to get out, spent the day crying and just left dad to his own devices. So, now I was running back and forward 3 times a day to ensure they were getting dinner and to make sure dad was ok. It had now become a critical situation again, and I was forced to ring the Elderly Care team, now for mum as well. I have been having to travel to Derry on Thursday nights to attend a course on Fridays, so had arranged with one of their friends from the church to call in with them while I was gone. I called before leaving, only to find mum still in bed and dad very low. As I sat on the bed with mum, I told her I’d had to ring the Emergency care team. To say that went down like a lead balloon was an understatement, ‘What did you do that for?’ she had snapped. I reassured her that it had been a last resort and that there was no shame or failure in admitting she couldn’t cope. ‘I can cope!!’ she spat. Inwardly, my eyes rolled to the back of my head: who was this woman kidding?

Driving up to Derry, my mind wandered to all the possible outcomes and solutions, and if I’m honest, I got an hours sleep that night, mind still racing as to how the hell I was going to get this stubborn woman to allow me to look after them but still give them their independence. The course was a waste of time the following day, for I was as sick as a dog. Tiredness and the vomiting and nausea I had left me feeling like I was dying, and I couldn’t wait to get home to my bed. So now, I was no use to them. Lack of sleep, stress and severe sickness had left me in bed unable to do anything for them. They say when looking after someone who is ill, look after yourself too. What good is a carer if they are too sick to do anything? That is something I’m working on…

Next time – Walkabout.
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Dementia Diaries @ Ⅳ

Lesley Stock ✒ The Holiday.

Dad

Mum had booked herself and dad away for three weeks. Unfortunately, there was zero chance of me leaving the zoo I have for that length of time, so I travelled out the following week and met them.

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. 

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. 
 
 Lesley Stock is a former PSNI and RUC Officer
currently involved in community work. 

Dementia Diaries @ Ⅲ

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