Ghost stories and shadows

I am nervous about typing this in case it tempts fate, but mum has had a few good days.

Even on good days, there will be moments when I am reminded that all is not well. Just as I am relaxed around her, something will happen or be said that makes me sit up.

Today, she talked about my aunt, who had had a flat next to hers in the 1960's. It was part of an old terrace townhouse, Victorian, or earlier. They both tell a tale of how it was haunted, how they would hear footsteps in the empty flat above, and how, after they had scattered flour over the floor up there, they went back and found two sets of footprints leading out of a cupboard and into the opposite wall. Side by side, an adult's and a child's.

"Oh yes, " I said, joining in the telling, "and now it's a hotel, isn't it? I know it. Near Star Hill. In Rochester. That's right." She has told me this bit herself many times, but today she remarks,
"Is it? A hotel? Well I never!"
We sipped our tea, sitting outside a little cafe, people watching.
Then she asked -and this was the moment-
"But.... if it's a hotel now, where does Pat live?"
Neither of them have lived there since the early 1960s, but in that moment, mum lost 50 years.

I've been given a name for it now, this thing. It's vascular dementia. I've found an online forum full of people going through it either themselves, or caring for someone who is. I haven't browsed it very much, it's too upsetting for now as everyone seems to be in advanced stages. It's like looking into our future and it's so scary. She will go downhill in large steps, in sudden deteriorations. I lie awake worrying and crying about when? and how much deterioration comes next? and how long do we have? how long before she's just a ghost of my mum?

I posted a question about whether I should tell her what it is. The "D" word.
As I had suspected, they advised not to, not if it would cause more upset.
So for mum it is "memory problems", a side effect of the TIA and the resulting epilepsy.
After all, the time I saw her crying over this was the time she asked me, "I'm not losing my mind, am I? I'm not, am I?"

No mum, don't worry. You'll be fine. You'll be fine. I'm determined that she'll think she's fine.

Pusscats, thunder and cardboard boxes

It's finally thundering today. At last! After months of hot weather and mugginess. We've had showers lately but scarely enough to water the garden; just enough to make it humid. Then today I'm wandering about with my glasses on and taking co-codamol for the pain-behind-the-eyes classic weather-headache. And BOOOM! Big thunder roll, right over us, and the heavens open. HOORAY!!!!

Not so horray for Scooter. So much rain has released the frogs; Lord knows where they live normally, but heavy rain produces them all over our garden. Scooter likes to try to catch them (never succeeds, don't worry!) so has been sitting at the open patio doors, watching them bounce across the lawn in the downpour. He has never seen so many, never seen any in daylight, and never seen them so active. Twice he has tried to pursue them, only to retreat at half way across the grass, too soaked. I've been waiting for him at the door with his towel, and as he snuggles in he does that chortle that all cat-owners know to interpret as "Please don't tell anyone else about this, mum."

Aw, never mind. I'm sure the old-bone-warming summer will be back soon for another month, Scoot. Meanwhile, here's a pic of him from the other day. I'd taken in the cushions from the outdoor chairs, so he lay waiting on the table till I took the hint to bring them back:
meanwhile, a grocery box has become Fluffy's new favourite sleepy place:What is it about cats and cardboard boxes?? Do dogs go mad for them too????

Ahhh pusscats are such good therapy :)

The cost of going out

Luvbug and I had a meal in London Friday night; his parents had stopped over en route from Ireland to Switzerland for a holiday.

We left mum around 5.30. I 'phoned her at 7.45. I tried to call again at 9, during our meal, but no answer. A few more tries, no answer. When we drove home we came via Mum's, to check she was ok.

I found her in bed, with two duvets wrapped round her. Remembering that a high temperature can bring on a fever, I gently pulled one away. She woke up. She was still half dressed under there. She was talking about birdies, or baddies, I couldn't quite make it out.

I'm not going into details more than that, but there was evidence in her home of confusion, including with her pills, despite the special container for them, which is divided into days and times of day. She couldn't remember if she had gone to bed early, or what she had done in the evening, but said that she had lost track of the time and the day. We stayed for a while to check she was going to be ok, but of course we couldn't really know. We just had to hope for the best, when we left her settled down again, and sneaked out at nearly 1am.

We had a disturbed, worried night, then I headed to her place in the morning, where she was tired and vague all day. I bought a thermometer recently so I can check her temperature if ever she is out of sorts, and this was ok.

She's continued to improve as the week has gone on, but we are left reeling, half stunned, that our first evening to ourselves since October caused, or at least resulted in, confusion and panic and upset on her part. It has left us with heavy hearts, I can't deny it.

Familiar but strange...

The depression is strange. It seems to know that I just don't have room for it right now. It sits curled up, deep down, and only reaches to the outside rarely, mostly in bursts of tears that last hours, before all returns to normal. I'm grateful, as it means mum doesn't get to see me at my worst, or anything like it.

She isn't daft. She can tell when I'm tired or when something is irritating me, when I feel annoyed about something. But I haven't been depressed around her. I'm glad it keeps to its own compartment for now.

Looking at previous patterns, I know that there is only a matter of time before the lid of the compartment blows and the beast escapes.

What I don't know is how long I have left before that happens. So I have to contact outside help this week.

I've been advised to start with Age UK*, as apparently they can advise on help with care, meals-on-wheels, etc. I also need to get a back up plan in place in case I just can't organise things like her medication and going out. A regular break would help so much. One day, or one afternoon, even, a week, or fortnightly; time on my own or with Luvbug, but time when I can relax and not think that she is worrying where I am or getting confused and scared, which is what happens if I keep my appointment with Art Therapy every Tuesday. I've had to skip it twice recently, as I just couldn't get away.

As ever, thank you all so much for your supportive comments and emails. I'm sorry I don't reply to them individually.



*age UK is the name of the newly combined charities Age Concern and Help The Aged.

Floor level.

Broke down today.
Lots of tears. You know, the can't-go-on type.
Had an appointment with the Art Therapist.
I'd had to cancel last week's and the week before's because I just couldn't get away, couldn't leave mum on her own.
Today was easier; she wasn't too bad today.

At the session, it all bubbled to the surface, and how, yesterday, for the first time, I felt I couldn't go on.

But if I killed myself, I thought, what would mum do then? Or the cats....

Luvbug, I figured, in the twisted, mirror-think of suicidal thought, he would be ok, he's strong, he could sell up and head to Ireland and his family........ and then yesterday on the news there was a story about a young family found dead in their home. Suicide was mentioned, but not official yet. How could he have taken his wife and children with him, people asked. And I knew how. I knew how, I knew why.

Then I knew I had hit the floor and needed help.

Oops

Luvbug is fixing a catlap to the door. Doing a job off our 'to do' list seems to have given him a lift!! OK I shan't tell him it's back to front then.... hehehe all the locks and gadgetty bits are on the outside. Scooter won't mind.

Oh, and if proof were needed that Fluffy CAN'T HEAR A THING - she has been asleep on the sofa through all the drilling and jigsawing.... :) in fact she's cuddled up to Sam the Bear.

Awww

I wanted to keep a diary about day to day stuff with mum, but was worried about keeping a journal in case I left it lying around and she found it. It would be just like me to do that.

Luvbug came home today with a new toy for me; a baby laptop. I think grown-ups call them notebooks. But I think it's a baby laptop. Haven't named it yet.

Now I'll be able to scribble at will and blog more easily, too.

Awww...... isn't he lovely?

:)

Cats. Not sure where this one would fit in, in that metaphor.

What if...

I wrote in reply to Stardust in the comments section....I am trying to adopt a sort of Buiddhist approach, of acceptance, and of not fighting what I cannot change. It will be easier when I stop kicking. Thank you all for your support, your comments and emails, and for stopping by to catch up.

This morning I had an odd thought about the religion thing.
What if it's like this. Like a goldfish bowl?

Maybe we are the fish, the universe is the water, and the bowl is "god".

Thoughts?

I'm sorry if what I wrote offends anyone, by the way. I don't mean to hurt or mock people who still believe what I can't- I just need a space where I can shout and be angry and honest about where I am.......