After getting to bed at about 10.00 p.m. last night, Mum was still awake at 1.30 a.m. this morning. Before I went to bed, I looked in on her; Mum was ready for a chat, and equally ready to get up there and then!
I said, "I'm sorry, Mum, but I have got to get to bed now myself - it's nearly 2.00 o'clock in the morning!"
"Is it?"
"Yes, it is. The ladies will be in later, to get you up and washed and dressed. I'll see you then. Night- night!"
"Night-night," said Mum; but as I went upstairs, I could hear her pulling out (as my Grandma would have said) "gallons" of tissues, and moving the tissue box around on the bedside table. I knew Mum was safely tucked up in bed, with the rails securely in place, and I just hoped she would get some sleep eventually.
In spite of having been awake so much during the night, Mum was up bright and early this morning - wide awake, chatty with the carers, and they soon had Mum ensconced in her chair, all ready for me to carry on with her other regular ablutions (washing hands and face, and brushing teeth) and preparing her breakfast.
Mum was really co-operative. She ate all her cornflakes, drank every last drop of milk in the bowl, and every mouthful of tea. She did really, really well and I told her she was marvellous.
I took her dish and cup to the kitchen, leaving a little Christmas brochure from one of the supermarkets for her to look through. Mum likes these brochures - sometimes she will leaf through every page, and at other times she starts to tear all the pages up, turning them into confetti - or hamster bedding! Either way, she enjoys what she is doing.
This particular brochure had a picture of a plate with a lovely dinner on it, and when I got back from the kitchen, she told me:
"They've taken my spoon away, so I can't eat my dinner!"
"Oh, Ma!" I said, "That's not your dinner - that's a photograph! You've just had a lovely breakfast - you've eaten all your cornflakes - and I'll make dinner for you later on."
I could see Mum didn't take this on board! But presently, the carers came back to take Mum to the bathroom, and then settle her down in bed for her mid-day nap. I thought she would have an hour or two's rest and then be ready for dinner later on, but as it turned out, Mum remained wide-awake, and was all ready to get up and get going!
I said, "Mum, this is a rest time now - and you need to have a little rest, and get up later."
I also needed to have my breakfast. I can't eat in a rush, and I also like to know Mum has had all her food for the morning, after which I can relax and enjoy my first meal of the day - even if it is getting closer to lunch time when I start it!
Mum stayed awake through the afternoon, until the ladies returned to get her up at tea time; I got the dinner cooking, and we were in and out of the bedroom, checking Mum was alright. It was as well we did, because at one point, as I was dishing up the dinner, Mum had got it into her head to try and get up out of her chair and get her coat on!
Mum has such good upper body strength, and she doesn't realise - or even believe - that she can't walk anymore. She has said very often that she only needs a little bit of support, and she wants to hold on to the little table that I use for putting her dinner on; this table is in no way strong enough to take her weight, and our great worry is that one day she will try it, the table will collapse, and Mum will find herself on the floor underneath or on top of it.
This afternoon, Mum had managed to put on her cardigan all by herself; as we went in the bedroom to check on her, she was already on her feet. It was one of those occasions when you have to shout a very urgent "STOP!" to get her attention, and then persuade her to sit down again.
This was easier said than done. Mum was convinced she was going to be going off shortly. She said,
"John's coming to collect me! I need my coat!"
"Uncle John is in Australia - he can't come to collect you!" We were very firm. "You must sit down now, and have your dinner!"
The exchange went batting backwards and forwards for some time, until I had made Mum a cup of tea, and brought it through with her dinner.
In the end, Mum settled in the chair a little and started eating. Getting some food going distracted her long enough to end the cycle of "I'm going now....." and "John is coming to collect me..."
Even as I am writing this, I have that curious feeling of deja vu, knowing we have played out this scenario many times before. It is always a worry that, when Mum gets the idea she has to go off somewhere, one of us won't be there in time to stop anything happening to her.
I know there are many people who have no experience of dealing with someone who is very elderly and disabled, and who also has dementia, and it is hard for them to understand how stressful it is, caring for someone like Mum, with those problems. There are times, when you need eyes not only in the back of your head, but cameras to help you see what's going on when you're not in the bedroom!
She was very sweet-tempered, and gave us all lovely smiles. I put Sudacrem on her legs to help the healing, and whilst I was doing it, she asked several times, "Are we safe here?"
"Yes, we're very safe!" I reassured her. Then I asked her, "What do we need to be safe from?" (I was thinking about when we were in Kenya, during the time of the mau mau).
"I don't know......"
"Well, don't worry, we are all safe here."
And with that, we had to leave it. Mum was still talking gently to herself for some while, but I just hope she has a better night and isn't restless, and that we have a good day tomorrow, with Mum a bit more relaxed, and less "hyper"!
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