In 48 hours, my mother, six weeks off 93, five feet nothing, seven stones, poor eyesight due to macular degeneration and thirteen years into living with vascular dementia, will be sitting, anxious, frightened and bewildered, in a care home, wondering when I, her daughter and principal carer, is coming to take her home. The answer is, I won’t be.
I have read many threads on TP on this topic and fully understand that we are on a road well travelled. I don’t even know why I am writing this - there’s nothing new to be said - but she and I have walked this road together, with the occasional companion, for many years now. On Wednesday, our paths diverge.
Why is this happening? Will she be any safer, well-fed or less alone? No. She is well looked after as it is, spends very little time alone and all of her needs are met. Some of the time she is quite content. But the time has come I suppose. Myself, my brother and the handful of family friends who visit just don’t feel like we are equipped to deal with the increasing dementia-driven anxiety any more. Along with this, I have been finally persuaded, largely through reading the TP threads, that we are at a tipping point, following which integration into a care home will be exponentially more difficult. In other words, it’s now or never.
I have read the stories about those who settled quickly, about those who took weeks or months to settle and those who never settled. I have read, with deep respect, about those who choose to carry on with their caring duties and reject residential care. I don’t yet know where on this spectrum we will land but I draw as much confidence, advice and inspiration as I can from all of your stories with thanks.
I don’t for a moment expect that anyone has the time or emotional energy to do this, but in the infinitesimal chance that you do, please think positive thoughts at 11am on Wednesday 20th November for a tiny, quiet, anxious elderly lady who is about to be thrown into an unfamiliar, frightening, communal world with strangers and new routines that she won’t understand and didn’t ask for. And also for her daughter who is practically overwhelmed by sadness that this is where the road has taken us.
I have read many threads on TP on this topic and fully understand that we are on a road well travelled. I don’t even know why I am writing this - there’s nothing new to be said - but she and I have walked this road together, with the occasional companion, for many years now. On Wednesday, our paths diverge.
Why is this happening? Will she be any safer, well-fed or less alone? No. She is well looked after as it is, spends very little time alone and all of her needs are met. Some of the time she is quite content. But the time has come I suppose. Myself, my brother and the handful of family friends who visit just don’t feel like we are equipped to deal with the increasing dementia-driven anxiety any more. Along with this, I have been finally persuaded, largely through reading the TP threads, that we are at a tipping point, following which integration into a care home will be exponentially more difficult. In other words, it’s now or never.
I have read the stories about those who settled quickly, about those who took weeks or months to settle and those who never settled. I have read, with deep respect, about those who choose to carry on with their caring duties and reject residential care. I don’t yet know where on this spectrum we will land but I draw as much confidence, advice and inspiration as I can from all of your stories with thanks.
I don’t for a moment expect that anyone has the time or emotional energy to do this, but in the infinitesimal chance that you do, please think positive thoughts at 11am on Wednesday 20th November for a tiny, quiet, anxious elderly lady who is about to be thrown into an unfamiliar, frightening, communal world with strangers and new routines that she won’t understand and didn’t ask for. And also for her daughter who is practically overwhelmed by sadness that this is where the road has taken us.