Gill W

Registered User
Jan 31, 2007
Co. Durham
Hi all,

Just wanted to say that I'm currently feeling really really sad that this disease has taken me little old Gran the way it has.

I remember my Gran from years ago when I was small, spritely, happy, and always pleased to see visitors.

I went along with Mum for her usual Saturday visit, and was overwhelmed by the difference in her. She's a lot smaller than she used to be, smiles a lot less, and seems to sit with her head bowed and staring at her knees.

Gran didn't remember who I was when I walked through the door, but looked pleased when she was told who I was. By the time we left several hours later, she'd forgotten again and was most surprised to be told that my Mum was my Mum. (Comment in the background from my Aunt here of "well who did you think she was, Mam?")

Saturday was my Aunt's 66th birthday and of course Gran had forgotten. She said "Oh well I must be 66, then if she is." She was quite upset that she doesn't seem to be able to remember birthdays these days. Mum had bought a card for her to give to my Aunt. and she was fascinated with it, it was a kind of 3-d one? She spent five minutes trying to work out how the 3-d bit was stuck to the card, and if she'd be able to take it off and keep it for another time. Mum gave her a pen, and left her to write a message in it. I watched from the seat beside her as the pen hovered over the card and a blank look descended on her face. I knelt in front of her and asked if she was managing. She looked at me and said "I don't know....I can't seem to....what should I do?". I suggested a message for her, a smile crossed her face and she said "Yes, love, thank you, that's right." She then proceeded to write "From Grandma" as opposed to "from Mum". The card was given to my Aunt when she arrived, and immediately she pointed out "You've put from Grandma, Mam, you should have put from Mam." She just couldn't let it go and say thank you, she had to make Gran feel silly.

I watched Mum potter around running a bath for Gran, who said she really didn't want a bath. Mum then came in from the bathroom and said "right, come one then chuckie egg, in we get" and held her hand out for Gran like I would my youngest son. Gran beamed at her, grabbed her hand and followed like a small child. Whilst she was getting dressed afterwards, Mum ran upstairs for a t-shirt for her. She heard my voice in the living room and popped her little head round the door, "Hello, when did you come here, then?".

Gran attempted to have a chat with me whilst she was waiting for her lunch being plated, and she couldn't string too words together to make a sentence. She ended up telling herself to "Shut up, talking twaddle woman!". She had been trying to tell me that she doesn't know how her own Mum coped with five children after the death of her father many many years ago, and was trying to tell me what had happened to each of her siblings over the course of their lives. She remembered all the names except one, which she replaced with her own son, Michael. She tried so hard to make conversation, it broke my heart to watch her struggle.

Mum then asked me to make some juice for Gran to have with her meal. In the place where the juice is usually kept was a bottle of Stardrops cleaning fluid that's usually kept under the sink. I asked Gran if she'd been drinking it and she said "No, love, why, what is it?". When I told her what it was she said she'd "Better tell them young 'uns not to touch it then, eh?".

I managed to ask Gran how she felt about 24/7 care, and she told me that she knew that "they want me to pack up and go there" but that she didn't want to do it too soon. She said she could still get the hoover out and the thingy you do the stuff with (she meant a duster) when she can't at all. But it seemed as though she knew there was still a 'compus mentis' bit about her and that she didn't feel she was ready for care yet?

Enough drivvelling on, anyway. I don't know why this weekend struck me as hard as it did, but there you go. My heart goes out to the little lady I used to know, who ails nothing but this dreadful disease. I just wanted to scoop her up and put her somewhere where it can't get any worse.



Registered User
Aug 29, 2006
SW Scotland
Hi Gill

Nothing to say, really, that will make you feel better.

Just go with the sadness. You couldn't watch your gran suffering without feeling sad, could you?

We all feel sad sometimes -- all the time really, it's just that sometimes the good days overcome, other days the sadness comes to the surface.

Just sending you love and hugs.

Grannie G

Volunteer Moderator
Apr 3, 2006
Dear Gill, what a sad post.

Isn`t it heartbreaking to watch the struggle. I can only sympathize and know exactly where you`re coming from.

Take care

Gill W

Registered User
Jan 31, 2007
Co. Durham
Thanks Sylvia and Hazel,

I know everyone here is in the same boat, I just found it quite hard to deal with this weekend, for some odd reason.

It's great that there's somewhere for us all to come where we can let it out, be understood, and feel better for letting it out.

Hugs to everyone. I know I'll feel better, it just has given me food for thought.


Canadian Joanne

Volunteer Moderator
Apr 8, 2005
Toronto, Canada
Dear Gill,
Yes, it is very sad to watch a much loved person change so much. We all have these days and we all have our own ways of coping. Sometimes we just need a good cry. These days will come and go.

Your post brought tears to my eyes, it's so hard some days. But we will all muddle through somehow.

Love & hugs,


Registered User
Mar 20, 2007
Dear Gill

Your letter was so moving and brought tears to my eyes, you explained it all so well.

I love my mum very much and want to give her the best care I can, for as long as I can. I can now empathise with other carers of their loved ones, thanks to this site.
bye for now