Tuesday

Uncomfortable and Unhappy. That’s the best way to describe Mum today. At least she didn’t cry. At least she knew who I was. That was a bonus this late in her Sleepy/Active cycle.

Most of the discomfort was down to some sort of difficulty relieving herself. I asked all the different ways I could think of to get her to explain what the problem was but all she would say was

“Oooh! OOOH!! My auntie!! My auntie!!”

I have no idea what that means and she won’t tell me. She’ll do it at least once every visit. It’s also clear that she isn’t saying anything to the staff either. Whenever I ask them they know nothing about it so Mum must be hiding it from them. Meanwhile, I just feel helpless. All I can do was tell her to take some deep breaths to help the pain pass. Which it seemed to.

Mum wanted to talk today. I could barely understand anything she said though. Every so often she’d suddenly become clear and distinct.

“I don’t like it here.”

And then

“They want me to turn this way. And then turn that way. I don’t like it.”

I yawned at one point. It was late and it had been an early start for us.

“You can go home if you want.”

“No, it’s OK Mum. I’m not in any rush today”

There were more grievances and complaints judging by the tone. The only complaint that was clear was that her lips were sore. That’s not unusual for dementia sufferers because they don’t drink enough and their mouths get dry. Mum certainly was thirsty. She drank whenever I offered her some squash and even asked for more.

Then she confirmed that she knew who I was by telling me that she loved me before asking where her dad was. Once again she referred to him as “Daddy”. Everything she ever talks about seems to be from when she was quite young – perhaps school age – so was the transition from talking about “Daddy” rather than “Dad” a sign that her accessible memories were restricted to when she was even younger?

She asked for the curtains to be opened.

“They’ve drawn the curtains because it’s dark outside Mum.”

“Open them… Ooh! It’s dark!”

She wanted them left open so she could see the rooms in the other wing of The Home. They’re public areas so no harm was done. It’s where the staff go to grab a bite to eat or write up notes in peace. Mum liked being able to see people being active.

Somehow Mum sensed I was thinking of going home.

“You will come back and see me again, won’t you?”

“Yep, I’m here every day. Whether you like it or not.”

“I do like it.”

The early start had been down to another trip to hospital for Lesley’s dad. It wasn’t at the big hospital and parking isn’t a total nightmare so Lesley judged she’d be able to cope on her own. She still had to get to Dad in time to make sure he was up and ready and to give the meds that he can’t cope with on his own.

The check-up was mostly a success. The scan showed that the cancer mass hadn’t grown that much and there wasn’t much fluid in his chest. Something’s happening though because his weight loss and sleepiness have got a lot worse in recent weeks. But while his mesothelioma isn’t measurably different, his dementia definitely is.

That left me and The Dog to our own devices for the bulk of the day. She elected to go down the bridle path, obviously. But when we got to the point where we can turn right towards the nature reserve or left towards the river she didn’t even think of going right. My guess was that she remembered getting stung in that hornet attack last week.

I’d only ever seen hornets in books when I was a kid and on the Interweb. Last week was the first experience in real life. We were about to get another one. It was from a ‘safe’ distance this time. There, in a hole in a dead Oak tree, was another huge and very busy nest. We just kept going before we annoyed them but I could hear them hunting for a disconcertingly long distance up the river bank.

I’ve still got those books from when I was a sad natural history nerd at school. They’re so out of date now. It feels like half the native species of insects have gone now and there are loads that were unknown here fifty years ago.

Author’s Note

My Mum is in a nursing home in a small village in the Thames Valley. The photo is not of the home. I used an AI image generator to give the reader some idea of the home she’s in.

All, some or maybe even none (you’ll never know!) of the names have been changed to protect privacy and hide real identities. If you think you recognise someone then let me know and I’ll edit the post or remove it entirely