Hi all of you,
I have to congratulate myself on one thing: I know Mum well and I have this special sense of when things are going down hill.
One word: Dreadful.
I am almost beyond writing, but I will write as sharing it here helps me to cope and it also releases the emotional pain. I know you understand, you aren't critical, and you know there is no winning here, just greater efforts to keep a sinking ship afloat.
Tears running down my face, I feel so traumatised. Everything that is wrong in her life she blames on me (at this point in the illness, I mean). And the child inside me is crying like mad at how outrageous this is. Dammit I am the one who helps her.
She and I are at loggerheads all the time. I urgently need to find a new coping strategy. The coconut oil is helping with lots of aspects (she can now write letters whereas she couldn't two weeks ago; her speech is often so coherent she could convince others I am the person with dementia; and she has this new found joy and laughter), but the dementia is still there. No respite.
I made the mistake this morning. We were all out with friends last night, and I got up late this morning (just 30 mins later than normal). Mistake. And four hours later the confusion, anger, upset are still blazing. On and on it goes..... "Who moved the Buddha in my garden?" [Answer: it is where is has been all winter long, but I keep silent, compassionate communication, never challenge, never provoke.] "My Buddha has got smaller, it is getting smaller and smaller." [Small intervention here by me, explaining that it is a stone ornament and cannot shrink. Provokes fury and utter disbelief at my stupidity = "You are a stupid, stupid person."] I get her dressed, tidy bedroom [heaps of clothes everywhere as is normal for Mum, 5 pairs of socks scattered about, all vests chucked in laundry basket, trousers here and there, and she wants to wear the dirty clothes......]. I whizz back across the road, as I live opposite, to get a nice breakfast ready, and her coconut oil fix, so the brain can kick in. Minutes later in she walks, furious. A thunderous (hatred? is that genuine hatred I read in her eyes? no, perhaps mere disgust at how horrible and stupid I am) glance at me and she starts telling my husband that a) I have taken her dog away [no, he is in her house as always, but I refrain from intervening], and b) she is hungry, where is her food, I won't feed her.
Now I have her watching Jane Austen DVD, cosy on her chaise longue, coconut oil dose taken and hopefully taking effect so brain will kick back in and the 'animal within' can relax. Minimal intervention, especially speech from me, as she tends to misunderstand everything when she is in a mood like this. I doubled her dose of anti-psychotic (I am allowed to do this but have never done it before).
So now I am back home and I feel upset, sad, traumatised, guilty, wish I had not stayed in bed later, and have a very very dissatisfied mother across the road.
As others have already told me, this is the most difficult phase of the illness. For the first time, I must confess I seem witless as to how to help her. None of the old tried-and-tested tricks work.
Now I am off to my Mindfulness course to see if I can squeeze some compassion out of some up-to-now invisible compartment of my brain. I used to ooze it, but it is so thin on the ground, because nothing I do seems to make any difference.
Now I have got it 'down on paper' so to speak, and I must get on with other pressing things. Wishing you all a good day, and hoping my day will soon take a turn for the better. Love BE
I have to congratulate myself on one thing: I know Mum well and I have this special sense of when things are going down hill.
One word: Dreadful.
I am almost beyond writing, but I will write as sharing it here helps me to cope and it also releases the emotional pain. I know you understand, you aren't critical, and you know there is no winning here, just greater efforts to keep a sinking ship afloat.
Tears running down my face, I feel so traumatised. Everything that is wrong in her life she blames on me (at this point in the illness, I mean). And the child inside me is crying like mad at how outrageous this is. Dammit I am the one who helps her.
She and I are at loggerheads all the time. I urgently need to find a new coping strategy. The coconut oil is helping with lots of aspects (she can now write letters whereas she couldn't two weeks ago; her speech is often so coherent she could convince others I am the person with dementia; and she has this new found joy and laughter), but the dementia is still there. No respite.
I made the mistake this morning. We were all out with friends last night, and I got up late this morning (just 30 mins later than normal). Mistake. And four hours later the confusion, anger, upset are still blazing. On and on it goes..... "Who moved the Buddha in my garden?" [Answer: it is where is has been all winter long, but I keep silent, compassionate communication, never challenge, never provoke.] "My Buddha has got smaller, it is getting smaller and smaller." [Small intervention here by me, explaining that it is a stone ornament and cannot shrink. Provokes fury and utter disbelief at my stupidity = "You are a stupid, stupid person."] I get her dressed, tidy bedroom [heaps of clothes everywhere as is normal for Mum, 5 pairs of socks scattered about, all vests chucked in laundry basket, trousers here and there, and she wants to wear the dirty clothes......]. I whizz back across the road, as I live opposite, to get a nice breakfast ready, and her coconut oil fix, so the brain can kick in. Minutes later in she walks, furious. A thunderous (hatred? is that genuine hatred I read in her eyes? no, perhaps mere disgust at how horrible and stupid I am) glance at me and she starts telling my husband that a) I have taken her dog away [no, he is in her house as always, but I refrain from intervening], and b) she is hungry, where is her food, I won't feed her.
Now I have her watching Jane Austen DVD, cosy on her chaise longue, coconut oil dose taken and hopefully taking effect so brain will kick back in and the 'animal within' can relax. Minimal intervention, especially speech from me, as she tends to misunderstand everything when she is in a mood like this. I doubled her dose of anti-psychotic (I am allowed to do this but have never done it before).
So now I am back home and I feel upset, sad, traumatised, guilty, wish I had not stayed in bed later, and have a very very dissatisfied mother across the road.
As others have already told me, this is the most difficult phase of the illness. For the first time, I must confess I seem witless as to how to help her. None of the old tried-and-tested tricks work.
Now I am off to my Mindfulness course to see if I can squeeze some compassion out of some up-to-now invisible compartment of my brain. I used to ooze it, but it is so thin on the ground, because nothing I do seems to make any difference.
Now I have got it 'down on paper' so to speak, and I must get on with other pressing things. Wishing you all a good day, and hoping my day will soon take a turn for the better. Love BE
