My mother, aged 88yrs, was widowed 2yrs ago after 67 yrs of married life. My father succumbed to cancer after a 16mth battle which was extremely hard for my parents and for all four of us children.
Shortly after my father's diagnosis we all became concerned over my mother's deteriorating memory - aware that it could be stress-induced from the unhappy situation in which she found herself, we monitored it. We eventually managed to get a referral to the local CMHT, who I'm afraid were less than useless in providing support for our mother, information and general action. After 2 scans, 18mths of smiles and reassurrances 'it's probably stress-related' and many phone calls on my part, a defininitive diagnosis and commencement of Aricept started last December.
12months after my father's death, my mother decided she wanted to leave their large bungalow with a stunning and huge garden in a village in the middle of nowhere, with no facilities other than a pub. We all searched and researched the opportunities available for her and had a couple of false starts but eventually settled on a 1 bed bungalow within a Care Village - 3 residential homes and a community centre on site. Ma was involved and enthusiastic about the whole idea. Downsizing was understandably as traumatic as we anticipated - but we had no notion of the catastrophes to follow.
Ma was constantly of the belief that this new home (with many of her existing possessions) was someone else's, she had forgotten that her husband had died, she thought he was out with her sister-in-law and they had been in an accident. She kept packing her bags waiting to be taken home. We increased the number of carers' visits to 4 a day, with additional visits from previous neighbours, weekly visits from us children (we live at the four corners of the country), weekly cleaners plus sundry visits from the GP(who heats up a mean can of soup!!). She spent most of her time in a pool of tears, forgot to eat the meals prepared for her, enquired after her mother's health (who died 35 yrs ago) and as soon as the last visitor was out of the door she started panicking and ringing up family members. She managed to overdose on her medication, organised in pill dispensers which the carer gave to her, in the week prior to Christmas when the pharmacy sent out 2 dispensers.
She spent the Christmas week with my older sister and when she returned to her bungalow, the situation deteriorated rapidly - to a point when Social Services got off the fence and declared her frail and vulnerable and said that she needed to go into a Care Home for dementia sufferers and this was backed up by the GP.
7 months later, she is still in the home and looking a lot healthier, benefitting from a regular routine of food, medication, sleep and interaction with other people and no longer constantly in tears - all of which is good. However I (and my siblings ) dread the visits. Initially (if we are lucky) she is delighted to see us, then rapidly a comment follows that she has all her stuff packed up ready for home. When she is told that this IS her home now, she becomes aggressive and unpleasant. She continues in this way for about an hour, accusing us of lying and speaking to her as though she is 'insane and half-witted'. All she wants to do is live on her own - she cannot remember the months prior to her admission and declares that if we are going to keep talking rubbish she no longer wants to see us. Then if I can manage to persuade her, we will go out for a walk or drive and she is like the mother she used to be - we can have quite pleasant conversations and even laugh and joke. She will acknowledge sadly that her memory is going and she sometimes can't remember whether my father is still alive.
Even when I return her to the home, she remains pleasant and is rational that although she would love to live independently, she knows that it would not be safe for her, so given these circumstances and the fact that the home is clean, food reasonable and staff friendly, life is probably not going to get any better.
I then bid her a fond farewell, having noted in her diary when I shall next be visiting, and drive 80 miles home feeling totally drained and dreading the next visit. How can I either circumnavigate the first hour of the visit or handle it better?
Shortly after my father's diagnosis we all became concerned over my mother's deteriorating memory - aware that it could be stress-induced from the unhappy situation in which she found herself, we monitored it. We eventually managed to get a referral to the local CMHT, who I'm afraid were less than useless in providing support for our mother, information and general action. After 2 scans, 18mths of smiles and reassurrances 'it's probably stress-related' and many phone calls on my part, a defininitive diagnosis and commencement of Aricept started last December.
12months after my father's death, my mother decided she wanted to leave their large bungalow with a stunning and huge garden in a village in the middle of nowhere, with no facilities other than a pub. We all searched and researched the opportunities available for her and had a couple of false starts but eventually settled on a 1 bed bungalow within a Care Village - 3 residential homes and a community centre on site. Ma was involved and enthusiastic about the whole idea. Downsizing was understandably as traumatic as we anticipated - but we had no notion of the catastrophes to follow.
Ma was constantly of the belief that this new home (with many of her existing possessions) was someone else's, she had forgotten that her husband had died, she thought he was out with her sister-in-law and they had been in an accident. She kept packing her bags waiting to be taken home. We increased the number of carers' visits to 4 a day, with additional visits from previous neighbours, weekly visits from us children (we live at the four corners of the country), weekly cleaners plus sundry visits from the GP(who heats up a mean can of soup!!). She spent most of her time in a pool of tears, forgot to eat the meals prepared for her, enquired after her mother's health (who died 35 yrs ago) and as soon as the last visitor was out of the door she started panicking and ringing up family members. She managed to overdose on her medication, organised in pill dispensers which the carer gave to her, in the week prior to Christmas when the pharmacy sent out 2 dispensers.
She spent the Christmas week with my older sister and when she returned to her bungalow, the situation deteriorated rapidly - to a point when Social Services got off the fence and declared her frail and vulnerable and said that she needed to go into a Care Home for dementia sufferers and this was backed up by the GP.
7 months later, she is still in the home and looking a lot healthier, benefitting from a regular routine of food, medication, sleep and interaction with other people and no longer constantly in tears - all of which is good. However I (and my siblings ) dread the visits. Initially (if we are lucky) she is delighted to see us, then rapidly a comment follows that she has all her stuff packed up ready for home. When she is told that this IS her home now, she becomes aggressive and unpleasant. She continues in this way for about an hour, accusing us of lying and speaking to her as though she is 'insane and half-witted'. All she wants to do is live on her own - she cannot remember the months prior to her admission and declares that if we are going to keep talking rubbish she no longer wants to see us. Then if I can manage to persuade her, we will go out for a walk or drive and she is like the mother she used to be - we can have quite pleasant conversations and even laugh and joke. She will acknowledge sadly that her memory is going and she sometimes can't remember whether my father is still alive.
Even when I return her to the home, she remains pleasant and is rational that although she would love to live independently, she knows that it would not be safe for her, so given these circumstances and the fact that the home is clean, food reasonable and staff friendly, life is probably not going to get any better.
I then bid her a fond farewell, having noted in her diary when I shall next be visiting, and drive 80 miles home feeling totally drained and dreading the next visit. How can I either circumnavigate the first hour of the visit or handle it better?
