Toilet training!

[Mammajan]

After nearly three hours of him going to the bathroom because he said he really wanted to go but couldn’t, I go to the bathroom to find the seat and basin covered in it. He said it wasn’t him because he can’t go. Any ideas?
It’s been quite a day. This morning he put a cardboard box on the hob and set the fire alarms off. Nice morning with the fire brigade and the place stinks of smoke. The cooker is now off at the mains switch till I need it. And they tell me it can only get worse!

 

[Duggies-girl]

After nearly three hours of him going to the bathroom because he said he really wanted to go but couldn’t, I go to the bathroom to find the seat and basin covered in it. He said it wasn’t him because he can’t go. Any ideas?
It’s been quite a day. This morning he put a cardboard box on the hob and set the fire alarms off. Nice morning with the fire brigade and the place stinks of smoke. The cooker is now off at the mains switch till I need it. And they tell me it can only get worse!

Sorry @Mammajan but I feel that you have dealt with enough, I couldn't cope with that lot. Sorry I am not a lot of help but I don't know what else to say other than perhaps more help is needed or even a care home.

 

[Lindy50]

What help do you have @Mammajan ? If days like today are becoming anything like the norm for you and OH, I really feel you need a lot of help (such as day care, respite, befriending, personal care for OH), otherwise you will be completely exhausted.
I don't know your situation. Have you had an assessment for OH, I wonder?
Sending hugs
Lindy xx

 

[Mammajan]

Sorry @Mammajan but I feel that you have dealt with enough, I couldn't cope with that lot. Sorry I am not a lot of help but I don't know what else to say other than perhaps more help is needed or even a care home.

The problem is that he doesn’t recognise that there’s anything wrong., and sometimes we can have almost normal periods. I have even threatened him with a care home and he smiles and says he knows I wouldn’t do that. Even the family don’t think he is bad enough for care, they don’t see the side of it that I do. So I just keep cleaning up after him.

 

[Mammajan]

What help do you have @Mammajan ? If days like today are becoming anything like the norm for you and OH, I really feel you need a lot of help (such as day care, respite, befriending, personal care for OH), otherwise you will be completely exhausted.
I don't know your situation. Have you had an assessment for OH, I wonder?
Sending hugs
Lindy xx

Ss say they will do an assessment in 10-12 weeks! Short of staff apparently. So I keep going.

 

[Kevinl]

Training and people with AZ just don't go together, you're managing decline and it's irreversible, you can't win.
My wife went through the poo smearing phase and so I know exactly what you're going through and it's a living nightmare.
In the end I managed to get her to wear pads which made it at least a bit more manageable.
K

 

[Lindy50]

Ss say they will do an assessment in 10-12 weeks! Short of staff apparently. So I keep going.

Oh, I remember being similarly frustrated when I was trying to get an assessment for mum (some 5 years ago now!) I resorted to writing difficult episodes down and emailing them once a week to the responsible SS team. I emphasised that mum was a vulnerable adult at risk in the community. Not sure whether it achieved much, but at least I felt better for it, it felt a bit like sharing the responsibility.
I hope you get that assessment soon.
All the best
Lindy xx

 

[Duggies-girl]

The problem is that he doesn’t recognise that there’s anything wrong., and sometimes we can have almost normal periods. I have even threatened him with a care home and he smiles and says he knows I wouldn’t do that. Even the family don’t think he is bad enough for care, they don’t see the side of it that I do. So I just keep cleaning up after him.

Oh dear, yes I understand that. Dad is not at that stage yet but when all the goodies disappear out of the fridge it definitely was not him.

 

[Andrew_McP]

The toilet side of caring is probably the most frustrating. But I don't think there are any answers -- red loo seats or whatever -- which really work. And if they do, it's not for long. The only answer I found is constant supervision... whether it's welcomed or not.

Mum will often dither back and forth multiple times, especially in the middle of the night, and even deny she wants to go. But if I put the matron's hat on and get her in place she'll usually do what's necessary. Except when she won't or can't! We go back and forth to the loo multiple times, close together, until something finally gives. Sometimes my patience, especially at 5am.

Putting a radio in the bathroom means I can at least occupy my mind at times like that. Helps distract me from what's actually going on.

Still, all that is far, far, far preferable to this morning, when I managed to snooze through the hallway alarm letting me know Mum was up. The kitchen had become the bathroom in a big way, and Mum -- bless her cotton socks -- had attempted to clean things up using anything and everything to hand... including her hand. She had even tried to hoover up the mess (she can't plug it in, thankfully) and then pushed the hoover back and forth through the house leaving a trail of anti-cleaning in her wake.

It was the sound of her 'hoovering' which woke me from my stupor into a morning of cleaning Mum, the house, and the dog's feet. (I apologise in advance to future generations attempting to clean up all our wetwipe landfill waste). But I still haven't cleaned the hoover. It's hiding in the garage; out of sight, out of mind.

Tonight I've changed the alarm on the hall sensor to something harder to ignore!

To add insult to injury, I rushed to get everything sorted so we could eventually get out to the doctor's for their flu jab session (which they'd been pestering us about all week by text) only to find they'd run out. When life's got it in for you, it's got it in for you!

Fortunately, our pharmacist had 2 doses left, and made time for us despite being rushed off her feet. It was a small act of kindness which cheered me up greatly... at least until Mum refused to put her clothes back on and created a scene in the shop, then wouldn't get on the bus home without a struggle.

It's nice to see the back of some days, isn't it! And you'll be glad to see the end of this post too. I appear to have hijacked another request for help with no help whatsoever. Sorry, your topic title drew me like a moth to a flame.

 

[Duggies-girl]

The toilet side of caring is probably the most frustrating. But I don't think there are any answers -- red loo seats or whatever -- which really work. And if they do, it's not for long. The only answer I found is constant supervision... whether it's welcomed or not.

Mum will often dither back and forth multiple times, especially in the middle of the night, and even deny she wants to go. But if I put the matron's hat on and get her in place she'll usually do what's necessary. Except when she won't or can't! We go back and forth to the loo multiple times, close together, until something finally gives. Sometimes my patience, especially at 5am.

Putting a radio in the bathroom means I can at least occupy my mind at times like that. Helps distract me from what's actually going on.

Still, all that is far, far, far preferable to this morning, when I managed to snooze through the hallway alarm letting me know Mum was up. The kitchen had become the bathroom in a big way, and Mum -- bless her cotton socks -- had attempted to clean things up using anything and everything to hand... including her hand. She had even tried to hoover up the mess (she can't plug it in, thankfully) and then pushed the hoover back and forth through the house leaving a trail of anti-cleaning in her wake.

It was the sound of her 'hoovering' which woke me from my stupor into a morning of cleaning Mum, the house, and the dog's feet. (I apologise in advance to future generations attempting to clean up all our wetwipe landfill waste). But I still haven't cleaned the hoover. It's hiding in the garage; out of sight, out of mind.

Tonight I've changed the alarm on the hall sensor to something harder to ignore!

To add insult to injury, I rushed to get everything sorted so we could eventually get out to the doctor's for their flu jab session (which they'd been pestering us about all week by text) only to find they'd run out. When life's got it in for you, it's got it in for you!

Fortunately, our pharmacist had 2 doses left, and made time for us despite being rushed off her feet. It was a small act of kindness which cheered me up greatly... at least until Mum refused to put her clothes back on and created a scene in the shop, then wouldn't get on the bus home without a struggle.

It's nice to see the back of some days, isn't it! And you'll be glad to see the end of this post too. I appear to have hijacked another request for help with no help whatsoever. Sorry, your topic title drew me like a moth to a flame.

That was some day @Andrew_McP I hope you have a better one tomorrow.

 

[Lindy50]

That was some day @Andrew_McP I hope you have a better one tomorrow.

Me too @Andrew_McP

 

[Andrew_McP]

I hope we all have a good day tomorrow. Night all.

 

[Mammajan]

The toilet side of caring is probably the most frustrating. But I don't think there are any answers -- red loo seats or whatever -- which really work. And if they do, it's not for long. The only answer I found is constant supervision... whether it's welcomed or not.

Mum will often dither back and forth multiple times, especially in the middle of the night, and even deny she wants to go. But if I put the matron's hat on and get her in place she'll usually do what's necessary. Except when she won't or can't! We go back and forth to the loo multiple times, close together, until something finally gives. Sometimes my patience, especially at 5am.

Putting a radio in the bathroom means I can at least occupy my mind at times like that. Helps distract me from what's actually going on.

Still, all that is far, far, far preferable to this morning, when I managed to snooze through the hallway alarm letting me know Mum was up. The kitchen had become the bathroom in a big way, and Mum -- bless her cotton socks -- had attempted to clean things up using anything and everything to hand... including her hand. She had even tried to hoover up the mess (she can't plug it in, thankfully) and then pushed the hoover back and forth through the house leaving a trail of anti-cleaning in her wake.

It was the sound of her 'hoovering' which woke me from my stupor into a morning of cleaning Mum, the house, and the dog's feet. (I apologise in advance to future generations attempting to clean up all our wetwipe landfill waste). But I still haven't cleaned the hoover. It's hiding in the garage; out of sight, out of mind.

Tonight I've changed the alarm on the hall sensor to something harder to ignore!

To add insult to injury, I rushed to get everything sorted so we could eventually get out to the doctor's for their flu jab session (which they'd been pestering us about all week by text) only to find they'd run out. When life's got it in for you, it's got it in for you!

Fortunately, our pharmacist had 2 doses left, and made time for us despite being rushed off her feet. It was a small act of kindness which cheered me up greatly... at least until Mum refused to put her clothes back on and created a scene in the shop, then wouldn't get on the bus home without a struggle.

It's nice to see the back of some days, isn't it! And you'll be glad to see the end of this post too. I appear to have hijacked another request for help with no help whatsoever. Sorry, your topic title drew me like a moth to a flame.

Thankyou for answering and the chat. I have just got have ,or should have said stayed up, after a night of toilet visits every 20 mins or so. At 3am ne shouted out “I’ve done it”, and he had. It was every where so I then had to wash him, change him, wash the bathroom floor ,toilet seat, bowl ect. He is now sleeping and I know he will deny everything when he gets up. Meanwhile I’ve got the bed to change and two baskets of washing to get through.
By the way , I use face clothes to clean him up instead of wet wipes,at least they can be boiled and used again. Got to do our bit for the planet even though it seems to have deserted me at times! Oh well, on to the washing.

 

[PalSal]

Training and people with AZ just don't go together, you're managing decline and it's irreversible, you can't win.
My wife went through the poo smearing phase and so I know exactly what you're going through and it's a living nightmare.
In the end I managed to get her to wear pads which made it at least a bit more manageable.
K

@Mammajan you need to listen to Kevin here. There is no training. MANAGING DECLINE. Do not listen to him or to his family. Do what you can to get help as soon as possible.

 

[LadyA]

I consider myself fortunate in that my husband wouldn't let me out of his sight, so when he was going to the loo, I had to accompany him! I'd sit on the edge of the bath, and he'd chat away, and often when he did "go", he'd look at me with wide eyes and say "wow!" or something similar! But at least accompanying him meant things went where they should. Before that time, I had, sadly, met him in the kitchen one time, heading for the back door obviously carrying something . "What have you got there?" I said. And he handed me the, er, contents of the toilet, and said "It wouldn't go away! I didn't know what to do with it!" Seems he didn't know what to do after "going", so thought he'd just get rid of it in the garden!

 

[Andrew_McP]

I use face clothes to clean him up instead of wet wipes,at least they can be boiled and used again.

Very sensible, though after watching 'The Secret Life of Landfill' (which may still be on iPlayer) recently, I'm far less concerned about our modern managed landfill, which could be seen as a resource to be mined later. The problem is the 20,000 old sites including those in the Thames estuary which are, quite literally, eroding into open water.

Exactly what could be mined from wetwipes though, I'm not sure. Apart from a little methane.

I'd sit on the edge of the bath, and he'd chat away, and often when he did "go", he'd look at me with wide eyes and say "wow!" or something similar!

On a good day, when Mum is completely unphased by my assistance, things can be pretty relaxed once her initial pre-pee anxiety has faded. We may even sing a little!

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star has become...

Tinkle, tinkle, little wee,
Slowly trickling out of me,
If I eat enough beef stew,
I will eventually do a poo!

And I have murdered one of my favourite songs of all time, from the musical Oliver...

Wher-er-er-er-errre's the poo?
Is it still inside of you?
If we sit here long enough,
Will it come into viewwwww?

I kind of hate myself for that one.

We have also created the 'bum bomb', to describe the satisfying ker-plop of a successful ejection. Mum was brought up during the war and has memories of blackouts and doodlebug warnings, and the bum bomb is our secret weapon against those pesky Nazis.

Whether they could solve Brexit is a different matter entirely.

As you can tell, we spend a lot of time in the loo, and I think my mind may be trying to find ever more elaborate ways to escape. But there's no doubt that you have to try and inject humour into these situations or we'd all be raving bonkers.

Sometimes I think it might be too late.

 

[Mammajan]

Very sensible, though after watching 'The Secret Life of Landfill' (which may still be on iPlayer) recently, I'm far less concerned about our modern managed landfill, which could be seen as a resource to be mined later. The problem is the 20,000 old sites including those in the Thames estuary which are, quite literally, eroding into open water.

Exactly what could be mined from wetwipes though, I'm not sure. Apart from a little methane.


On a good day, when Mum is completely unphased by my assistance, things can be pretty relaxed once her initial pre-pee anxiety has faded. We may even sing a little!

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star has become...

Tinkle, tinkle, little wee,
Slowly trickling out of me,
If I eat enough beef stew,
I will eventually do a poo!

And I have murdered one of my favourite songs of all time, from the musical Oliver...

Wher-er-er-er-errre's the poo?
Is it still inside of you?
If we sit here long enough,
Will it come into viewwwww?

I kind of hate myself for that one.

We have also created the 'bum bomb', to describe the satisfying ker-plop of a successful ejection. Mum was brought up during the war and has memories of blackouts and doodlebug warnings, and the bum bomb is our secret weapon against those pesky Nazis.

Whether they could solve Brexit is a different matter entirely.

As you can tell, we spend a lot of time in the loo, and I think my mind may be trying to find ever more elaborate ways to escape. But there's no doubt that you have to try and inject humour into these situations or we'd all be raving bonkers.

Sometimes I think it might be too late.

We know how to have fun don’t we! He’s asleep now, I might get forty winks myself if I’m lucky.

 

[Slugsta]

Andrew and Mammajan, you are both doing well to retain a sense of humour in the most difficult situations!

 

[Andrew_McP]

I might get forty winks myself if I’m lucky.

Never miss an opportunity to sleep. My mother is out for the count too, but I've never been good at the 40 winks thing. By the time I nod off it's usually time for the next problem solving exercise. But I appreciate these little oases of calm enough to compensate for the weariness.

Just in case it sounds like I have things under control though, Mum is asleep because after I finally got her to eat some breakfast, all hell broke out in the underwear department. There was no neat bum bomb, just a complete ballroom blitz, and Mum was in no mood to get cleaned up. It was shower or guaranteed UTI, so... so I discovered I can pick Mum up and put her in the bath if I have too.

Which is doubly depressing because (a) I don't like having to be so firm, even if it's in her best interests, and (b) it means she's lost enough weight that I can finally pick her up.

It wasn't much fun for Mum, but I've found (he said, sounding like someone desperately trying to justify the unjustifiable!) that in tough moments short, sharp solutions seem to be better than long, drawn out negotiation, no matter how gentle and reassuring I try to be. That just gives Mum time to dig her heels in even further and makes the incident more likely to stick as an unsettling recollection.

After it was all over, Mum retreated to her bed and when I took her a cup of tea (to encourage the all-important internal flush) she was more grateful for that and a biscuit than I had any right to expect.

The dementia rollercoaster rolls on. And the sun still shines. What a glorious day for sitting inside thinking about being outside. At this rate I may be forced to waste the rest of this period of calm doing some weeding.

 

[Mammajan]

Never miss an opportunity to sleep. My mother is out for the count too, but I've never been good at the 40 winks thing. By the time I nod off it's usually time for the next problem solving exercise. But I appreciate these little oases of calm enough to compensate for the weariness.

Just in case it sounds like I have things under control though, Mum is asleep because after I finally got her to eat some breakfast, all hell broke out in the underwear department. There was no neat bum bomb, just a complete ballroom blitz, and Mum was in no mood to get cleaned up. It was shower or guaranteed UTI, so... so I discovered I can pick Mum up and put her in the bath if I have too.

Which is doubly depressing because (a) I don't like having to be so firm, even if it's in her best interests, and (b) it means she's lost enough weight that I can finally pick her up.

It wasn't much fun for Mum, but I've found (he said, sounding like someone desperately trying to justify the unjustifiable!) that in tough moments short, sharp solutions seem to be better than long, drawn out negotiation, no matter how gentle and reassuring I try to be. That just gives Mum time to dig her heels in even further and makes the incident more likely to stick as an unsettling recollection.

After it was all over, Mum retreated to her bed and when I took her a cup of tea (to encourage the all-important internal flush) she was more grateful for that and a biscuit than I had any right to expect.

The dementia rollercoaster rolls on. And the sun still shines. What a glorious day for sitting inside thinking about being outside. At this rate I may be forced to waste the rest of this period of calm doing some weeding.

You sound an incredibly patient person, so caring to your mother. I did get my forty winks, and now he is making a cup of tea. It might have milk and it might have sugar, which I don’t take, but it’s a few minutes of normality that I cherish.