Last week my brother came to visit his mother. It was a Wednesday and my friend and I had given the morning exercise class. I was told when I got there that Mum wasn’t well and they had put her to bed. When I checked up on her she was fast asleep.
After the exercise class I saw the manager who explained that Mum had a stomach bug but they were keeping a close eye on her. It was too late to let my brother know and he arrived for lunch but decided not to visit. He didn’t want to risk catching her ‘lurgi’!
I visited the next day and Mum was up and in the communal sitting room watching one of the old war movies. The care home must have masses of these DVD’s stashed away! Or else it’s the same one and I see different sections or, heaven forbid, have forgotten what I saw the previous week!
But this visit was different. Mum’s eyes didn’t light up when she saw me. I didn’t even notice a flicker of recognition. I greeted Mum with my usual hug and kiss and asked how she was doing. I got no reply, just a blank stare. I tried talking to her but it didn’t seem as if she was able to hear me.
A senior carer walked past and I asked if it was possible to book a doctor’s appointment (a doctor visits the care home once a week) so that she could have her ears checked. She made a note on her hand (this seems to be the official way when out of the office!) and I went back to Mum.
I read her two children’s stories, Sleeping Beauty and Goldilocks. I doubt Mum took any notice but a few of the residents sitting close by showed some interest so I persevered! I didn’t stay longer than half an hour and left, feeling a lot sadder than when I had arrived!
I know that the time will come when Mum won’t recognise me. I also know that she is not going to get better. Over the years I have mourned the loss of a mother and a dear friend and finally accepted the inevitable. But the ghost-like frail, grey haired old lady sitting next to me I found unnerving. Mum has a beautiful skin but it had looked almost transparent. The watery February sun shining through the window had cast a shadow over her dark brown lifeless eyes. She had sat motionless throughout my visit.
So that was how I had left her last Thursday. I made regular phone calls over the weekend from Leeds where we were visiting my Mother-in-law. I went back to the care home on Monday. Mum recognised me and was more attentive but there has definitely been another regression. She goes down in levels and then seems to plateau for a while. I believe this is normal, if there can be anything normal about dementia!
But life goes on. The sun has gone back into hiding and February’s cold, dank weather has returned. All good things come to an end! Alas! 👠
Jenny Burrell 