‘If I ever get like that just please, please, push me in the river’ said my wonderful sharp and witty dad after we’d visited my grandmother in her home. It became a joke between us....we’d be walking over a bridge and I’d say ‘is it now dad?’ and he’d ask ‘is what now?’ and I’d say oh if you can’t remember then it’s time - I promised to push you in the river....
15/20 years later, we’ve had him living with us for three years. He knows us (although I’m possibly mum)but doesn’t remember mum is dead, and is concerned he hasn’t visited his parents for a while. Every day we’re either packing for or late for a ferry ....to Newton Abbott. Or he’s had to move to the sofa because of the ‘ruffian’ sleeping in his bed. He spends the day chopping paper or tissues into tiny tiny pieces or drawing endless doodles, but he’s doing this for a deadline which I (or the women who are trying to help for the thing) have given him and is worried/not sure they’re good enough and can we get prints of them for everyone. Personal care is a battle. He’s got vascular dementia and in many respects we’re lucky compared with other carers. He’s very sweet natured and has remained so.
It sometimes (and is always festering somewhere close in my mind) makes me so very sad indeed that I couldn’t fulfil his wish. Not in actually shoving him in the water, but somehow not letting him get like this. He’d hate it so deeply, my real dad.
When I try to talk to professionals about my sadness at losing real dad, they say oh but he’s happy and well looked after, this is who he is now, you’re doing a great job etc remind me it’s not ‘he’s got dementia’ it’s ‘ he’s living with dementia’ or even he’s living well with dementia. Despite doing singing drawing eating sleeping well I’m stricken with grief at how much he’d rather not have got like this. Cos he doesn’t remember any of it. Doesn’t know there’s a virus around ‘ well nobody told me’
I think I don’t want to let go of who dad was or how he used to think, he was so wise and capable, thoughtful and kind. I remember pulling in and crying when I realised I’d never see real dad again about 4 years ago.
Every day the stresses and frustration of caring for the person he is now takes over my wonderful memories of who he once was, and I’m scared that’ll be all that’s left. I wish I could offer him more love for who he is now, but I don’t love what he’s become.( Hard when someone wakes you up in the middle of the night to say his wallet has been stolen, chews up food and spits it out, or endlessly makes whistling bird noises at the dogs and won’t change his pants. Takes batteries out of shaver and hides them, says you’ve
and puts tissue in his socks so washing gets covered in bits)
The grief of losing someone while they’re still alive is very soul destroying
I’ve often thought the difference in caring is if you’re looking after children or a plant you nurture or water them and they thrive, whereas with dementia you nurture and water them and they get worse.
just wanted/needed to write that all down in case there’s anyone out there who gets me.
now worrying I’ll come across as me me me poor me. But I guess it is about me, as my father was about my age when he told me to push him in the river if he ever got like that....
15/20 years later, we’ve had him living with us for three years. He knows us (although I’m possibly mum)but doesn’t remember mum is dead, and is concerned he hasn’t visited his parents for a while. Every day we’re either packing for or late for a ferry ....to Newton Abbott. Or he’s had to move to the sofa because of the ‘ruffian’ sleeping in his bed. He spends the day chopping paper or tissues into tiny tiny pieces or drawing endless doodles, but he’s doing this for a deadline which I (or the women who are trying to help for the thing) have given him and is worried/not sure they’re good enough and can we get prints of them for everyone. Personal care is a battle. He’s got vascular dementia and in many respects we’re lucky compared with other carers. He’s very sweet natured and has remained so.
It sometimes (and is always festering somewhere close in my mind) makes me so very sad indeed that I couldn’t fulfil his wish. Not in actually shoving him in the water, but somehow not letting him get like this. He’d hate it so deeply, my real dad.
When I try to talk to professionals about my sadness at losing real dad, they say oh but he’s happy and well looked after, this is who he is now, you’re doing a great job etc remind me it’s not ‘he’s got dementia’ it’s ‘ he’s living with dementia’ or even he’s living well with dementia. Despite doing singing drawing eating sleeping well I’m stricken with grief at how much he’d rather not have got like this. Cos he doesn’t remember any of it. Doesn’t know there’s a virus around ‘ well nobody told me’
I think I don’t want to let go of who dad was or how he used to think, he was so wise and capable, thoughtful and kind. I remember pulling in and crying when I realised I’d never see real dad again about 4 years ago.
Every day the stresses and frustration of caring for the person he is now takes over my wonderful memories of who he once was, and I’m scared that’ll be all that’s left. I wish I could offer him more love for who he is now, but I don’t love what he’s become.( Hard when someone wakes you up in the middle of the night to say his wallet has been stolen, chews up food and spits it out, or endlessly makes whistling bird noises at the dogs and won’t change his pants. Takes batteries out of shaver and hides them, says you’ve
and puts tissue in his socks so washing gets covered in bits)
The grief of losing someone while they’re still alive is very soul destroying
I’ve often thought the difference in caring is if you’re looking after children or a plant you nurture or water them and they thrive, whereas with dementia you nurture and water them and they get worse.
just wanted/needed to write that all down in case there’s anyone out there who gets me.
now worrying I’ll come across as me me me poor me. But I guess it is about me, as my father was about my age when he told me to push him in the river if he ever got like that....
