The Dambusters, or, Mum's Minor (or Major!) Mishaps.

The Dambusters, or, Mum's Minor (or Major!) Mishaps

When Mum first came home in March 2012, she was very aware of when she needed to go to the bathroom, and could tell us. Once she was able to weight bear for a few seconds, and transfer onto the glider, we could get her to the loo in good time, and leave her in privacy, for however long she needed.

When she was done and wanted to wash her hands, Mum would call out, "I'm ready!" We then went in to wheel her across to the bath, where she could reach the taps and wash her hands properly.

Of course, this was a state that could not last forever. Over the past three years or so, it became clear Mum was losing the ability to know if she needed the loo or not; indeed, even if she was taken to the bathroom, sometimes she would call, "I'm ready!" and we would go in, thinking she still knew if she really was ready, and start wheeling her over to wash her hands - only to discover a long trail of water spreading across the floor on the way! Thank goodness for easily mopped floor tiles.

The carers and I took to sitting outside the bathroom door, so that we could hear what we euphemistically called "Handel's Water Music," as proof Mum really had spent a penny. There were times, when I was on my own and trying to get her comfortable before she settled down to have a nap, waiting outside the bathroom made me very anxious; if I heard audible evidence Mum had definitely used the loo, I would offer up a silent prayer of thanks, as it would mean a reasonably safe run back to the bedroom.

The other problem was when Mum thought she had opened her bowels, and reckoned she had finished; again, that also became a "hit and miss" affair. Caring for someone with dementia, when her understanding is slowly deteriorating, means you can end up feeling you have been transformed, albeit unwillingly, into a gastroenterologist, who has made a comprehensive study of the human gut and all its functions and foibles. I am not a prude, but it is hard when Mum's movements become a primary focus of my day.

We decided humour was the only way to deal with the problem. We came up with an idea centred on the film, The Dambusters, and Barnes Wallace, the inventor of the bouncing bombs; these were designed during WW2, to destroy three dams in Germany. From then on, whichever member of the family is on Loo Duty, a knowing look and "We've had a Barnes Wallace run," is sufficient to convey all the information required, and we are ready with gloves, cleaning and disinfecting equipment.