Wednesday

The Dog didn’t mess about on her walk this morning. She took me and Lesley straight to where she’d been playing in the lake yesterday by the shortest route. We wouldn’t normally let her do do intense exercise sessions on two days running but the day was too nice to argue with her.

The Dog has no interest in sticks on dry land but throw one in the water and she’s possessed. She would keep running into the water to fetch them out until she collapsed if we let her. We have to set a timer now and limit how long the games go on for. No more than 15 minutes is the limit at the moment. Otherwise she’ll be too stiff and sore to walk by the evening.

Lesley, as usual, had been ruminating as we walked. On the way home she let me into what had been bothering her. As usual, it was her sister and the funeral.

“Did you hear what she said to me last night?”

“Yeah, some of it.”

“Did you hear her ask me who all those cousins and spouses were on the invitations list? She was quite aggressive in her tone. She had no idea.”

“She’s been like that all the way along though. She’s never cared whether any of them came or not. She might even prefer it if they didn’t show up at all. She’s never wanted anything to do with them though has she? I know them better than she does.”

“Yeah. And she’s never been slow to send them photos of her kids. Showing off how beautiful they are, how clever they are, how good at sports. But she’s never cared about them or their kids.”

“She’s never met their kids has she?”

“No. She couldn’t care less about them.”

Lesley had been talking to cousins on her mum’s side. One of them had been thinking of staying overnight after the funeral instead of heading straight back up north. He’d also been thinking about going out for a meal. Lesley fully expected her to decline the offer.

“I think you’re right. She isn’t going to fancy that at all. But then, to be fair to her, she’s going to be feeling pretty rough with the jet lag and she’ll be flying back home the next day.”

My attempt to be fair to Lesley’s sister backfired. It reminded Lesley how daft it was to fly back so soon after the funeral. It was Dad’s wish to have his ashes scattered in one of the beautiful bays near where Lesley’s sister lived. By not staying here just another 48 hours it would mean she – or more correctly someone else – would have to pay for another return flight so she could collect them.

Bloody hell.

I got home to find another newsletter in my inbox from the dementia specialist I’d been following to help me through dealing with my Mum. It’s Dr Natali Edmonds at Careblazers if you’re interested. She was pushing subscriptions to her support group. I don’t need it now but a few lines in the email really stood out 

When we care for someone with dementia, it often means:

• Our own goals and dreams get put on hold
• We can’t just do what we want, when we want
• We spend our days caring for someone who may not want our help—or believe they even need it
• We sacrifice time, energy, and money for someone who might not understand or acknowledge any of it
  ​

All that matched my experience totally. And it wasn’t just the mental impact. I had been noticing a physical impact too. My skin was feeling a lot better and I was losing weight. That was probably down to having time to look after myself a bit better. Another sign was aches and pains in my back and legs. I put that down to some unevenness in the release of tension in my body. In the days when I went to the gym regularly my body would tell me when I was under stress by giving me sudden, transient but agonising tightness in my quads, hamstrings and glutes. I’d sometimes spend half a session doing rehab work locating and releasing knots in my muscles.

I know what to do to fix it. I just need to find the time and motivation to do it.

Author’s Note

My Mum was in a nursing home in the Thames Valley for a year and a half until she passed away in December 2024. My Father-in-law went into the same home the following January. But Lesley’s sister didn’t approve and made the situation so awkward that he had to be moved. He passed away in March 2025. Names and locations have been changed or hidden to protect the identities of those involved.

Image Credit

Original Image by Nick Gilmore. April 2025.