How old we become…

Isn’t it odd how old we become on the outside while inside we still feel like a twenty-year-old? That is my one observation having spent some days visiting with my dad.

His dementia has progressed at a frightening rate. So much so, that we had no choice but to bring him back to the nursing home where he feels happy. For me, it was a tough decision in one way, because I remember his reluctance to consider going in for respite eighteen months ago and his refusal to move mum to a local nursing home. However, I was happy knowing that, he is safer with many carers around him than just one of us with him twenty-four seven.

It is now two weeks since he moved house, and the weight has lifted from my shoulders, years and layers of stress are falling away and I have gained a little weight. Dad too is experiencing a lightening of years as he takes part in musical afternoons, dancing with anyone who is willing to risk getting their feet shuffled on, or squashed. His bright cheery “Hello,” gains him smiles and conversation. He is taking part in art classes, and on Wednesday of this week, he was a baker hoping to enjoy tea and queen cakes which he had helped to whip up and bake.

Just like Bob he is managing to hold on to his good humour and winning ways.

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This Simple Life

I believed, stupidly, that life would get easier as we age.

This is not the case and no one escapes, in this writers life.

I always wanted to write, that is a given with me, so I blog.

I am not competitive but have learned that button once pushed does not easily switch off. I try to get to the gym  2 or 3 times a week, to offset the bad habits I have i.e. slouching over a computer screen,  and the inherited family traits of heart disease, diabetes, epilepsy and high blood pressure. And have discovered it is addictive, sociable and exhausting but good.

As kids, we were brought up believing it is good to give back, so I volunteer.

I work with Ellie, who being a collie is all about being busy. Working with her led me to find a lab who also likes to work and now she has two sons who live to find anything I care to hide.

I almost forgot, I work not a full week but I work and now help to take care of Dad.

Add that into the mix along with a reluctance to say no and there is an explosion waiting to happen.

So I have decided to cut back but on what?  Housework is the tempting answer to that question, but I am a woman and we are programmed to only ignore the dust for so long.

Yes, this simple life I crave is a dream.

So any suggestions or advice would be gratefully received, mulled over and … tried out for a month or two.

Perhaps I should follow Bob’s example.

 

4 O’Clock means time for tea

I write this through a pleasant fog of tiredness….

shallow focus photo of orange ceramic mug on white saucer

Photo by Elle Hughes on Pexels.com

It has become a ritual.

At precisely 4 o’clock we have tea.

Tea and toast that is.

Dad suggests it, I fool that I am agree

The trouble with this plan is not plain for him to see

But I know that when he has relaxed and needs no more,

I alone am left to tidy, sweep and get on with my day while he simply starts to snore,

Left feeling that again I have been duped

Because it is 4am  and not 4pm

 

Caring for a Dad and a Bob.

One question about sit and stay and ageing.

As carer to one 86 year old dad and one 98 years old Bob I have discovered they have one thing in common, they can move like Ninjas.

Ask Dad to wait for a second while you grab a coat for him and when you turn around he has not only calmly gone outside but left his Zimmer behind him.

Tell Bob to sit and stay while you open the gate to bring in the bin and bam – he has calmly walked through it and is making his way to whatever house the delicious scent of cooking is wafting from.

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Trouble is – how can you give out to either of them? Besides they won’t listen!

#Dementia

This one word is putting fear into me. My dad has vascular dementia and we are learning how to deal with another curve ball that life is throwing at us. No one is left unaffected by this horrible condition.

It is odd how often we live in blind ignorance until we are thrust into a situation and then we learn we are only one small unit amongst thousands who are learning how to cope with this condition.

I did not inherit his great intelligence and it is this intelligence that we now see fading behind a mask of sorrow and fear that he is learning to deal with. Dad was never an emotional man, he was always the calm voice of reason. The solid base. Now, this base is quivering under the multitude of questions he and we face.

So I am turning to all readers to ask for tricks and tips on how to lighten his load. His apologies are becoming more frequent, as are some silly incidents, i.e.,

Open the fridge door to discover all of the dinner dishes stacked (unwashed on the shelves).Open the  hot stove / oven door to find items of clothing sitting on the shelf being baked.

 

The washing machine last week was lined in white plastic, which I resorted to hoovering, the flakes to remove them.

Our solutions include:

We have posted notices on doors etc listing the what to do when leaving the house.

There are notices appearing on microwaves, seats, notebooks, computers as we try to make things easier for him to cope.

Remove all evidence of bills paid, as he worries about money which he no longer understands.

Have a series of carers in the house at meal times and as often as we can, we arrive in ones to nudge and coax him into a sense of normality.

So, again I appeal to all who read or notice my strange rambling blog all pieces of advice big and small will be chewed on, thought over and acted upon.

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So why post a picture of a sunflower? To give us all something sunny to look forward to, especially as Bob is asleep, again.