Hi I'm new and need a moan! The 6 ½ hours I spent in A & E last night with my 89 year father has to be the lowest point so far in the 6 weeks of living hell I (and he) have endured since it first became apparent that he had (so far undiagnosed) dementia. I fully understand that the NHS casualty doctors are over stretched and underpaid and need to get through the disparate group of people presenting themselves for treatment on a Sunday night quickly and efficiently but it has to be the worst place in the world for a person confused and disorientated trying to hold on to what is left of his sanity. On several occasions I almost turned his wheelchair round and left, feeling that the deep wound over his eye sustained in a fall in home 30 hours after being discharged from hospital, would heal faster than the feelings of desperation and despair. But I stuck it out, thinking that is what good daughters do. And after stri strips were applied, an ECG , urine test and chest Xray undertaken we returned home at 4am. In 6 weeks he has gone from being more or less able to care for himself to someone who has 4 carer visits a day and who spends all day huddled on a hard kitchen chair by his fire. And we won’t have an ‘official’ diagnosis until he visits the memory clinic in a month’s time. I wonder if there will be any dementia specific help then. Even with 4 carer visits a day he managed to overdose on his medication yesterday because ‘they only support with medication in an official dossette box prepared by the pharmacy’. This, I discovered today, will take 2 weeks to set up. I work and also support my son who lives with me with his little daughter at weekends. He is helping where he can but finds the dramatic change in his grandad and the lack of any really useful help upsetting and frustrating. As an unmarried only child I am struggling physically with the constant running around but it is the huge emotional pain I find most difficult. I don’t know my dad any more but I see in his eyes the fear and anxiety as he comes to the realisation that what is happening to him isn’t going to get better. And that destroys me. The worst moment is when I wake up in the morning and realise it is really happening. Of course all of you are experiencing the same thing but I needed to share my feelings on this sleep deprived evening. I will be getting him a more comfortable chair to sit in; pestering the social worker for an OT home assessment to help me identify the fall risks and write more notes to the carers so they get a better idea of what he likes to eat; where it can be found in the house and to try and pursued him to change his clothes more than once every 3 weeks. Thank you for listening!