Less than a decade ago, my dad sent me a Spotify link. I’d never heard of it until then. He would advise me on computer issues. Two years ago I was loathed to have to put him into a care home. He was very advanced by this stage, but had hidden it very well. In this two short years he has been in three homes as well as a spell in an NHS unit. He is 78, mobile, physically well, although now frail due to the dementia. He wanders around the home almost constantly, chatting to nobody. He lives in his own world, but when I arrive he snaps back to our world. Well, not entirely, he’s still in his, but he loves company and attention. I sit with him and he chats away. He smiles, he laughs. He doesn’t know who I am , but most often knows he knows me. He doesn’t make any sense, but he thinks he does. I know that the carers don’t have the time or the understanding of what he’s about, to just sit with him for short periods and let him chat. That’s all he needs. He can’t cope with activities. He won’t go outside the door. His understanding of the outside world has gone, other than his own concept of it. He believes he goes out, he believes he works, he just needs those that are around him to recognise that fact. They don’t. Because his attention span is that of a matter of seconds, they probably think it doesn’t matter. Whatever I have said to them, makes no difference. He is classed as another generic old person. They often talk about him to me, in front of him. It shouldn’t matter that he may not understand. How can they be sure of that? He will often say something, anything, in those situations to get some attention.
I have looked at other homes recently, but felt they couldn’t offer anything better. In fact, they seemed worse. I constantly despair. He is paying £900 a week for this. I get what you are saying. I really do. There is a great deal of misunderstanding of the requirements to help those who are unfortunate enough to end up with a disease of the brain.