We Let The Train Take The Strain....

We Let The Train Take The Strain....

Uncle John is a wonderful traveller; uncomplaining, relaxed, making the best of everything, and our trip by rail was really pleasant. I am definitely not as keen a motorist as Wendy, and I will always prefer to let the train take the strain, if that is in an option.

The only trouble with not having a car, though, is that it did restrict our sight-seeing. At 87, Uncle John was marvellous at walking, and kept up well, but I have to admit it would have been easier, if I had taken the car. We used taxis on a few occasions, which speeded up our visits to places of interest; the drivers were very chatty and interested when they learned Uncle John had been away from Liverpool for so many years. We had a problem only once, with a driver taking us to a restaurant for dinner. He had such a strong accent, and used so many dialect words - pure Scouse - meant we could barely understand what he was saying.

Uncle John kept looking at me, and I kept looking at him.

"What did he say?" whispered Uncle John.

"I don't know!" I mouthed back.

We understood probably about one word in every half a dozen, and just hoped we were saying "yes" and "no" in the right places! It was a relief when we arrived at the restaurant we'd picked for dinner.

We'd arranged another date with the reporter from the Liverpool Echo, and at last we all met up at lunch time, on a beautiful day. A photographer was on hand to record the occasion; whilst Uncle John chatted to Bill Leece, he was photographed in the gardens of St Nicholas Church with the Liver building in the background. Afterwards, we all had lunch together; it was such an enjoyable interlude, and so good for Uncle John to be able to talk about his old home city.

Uncle John in St Nicholas Church gardens,
with the Liver Building in the background

Reminiscing about his childhood and youth, Uncle John said, "I was born in Tuebrook and then we moved to Mossley Hill. Another family home was in Purley Grove, off Brodie Avenue; we went to see it, and the road seems so narrow, after all these years!"

Uncle John also wondered why the city had got rid of its trams? A few years ago, Croydon in Surrey installed a tram system and whilst there was great upheaval at the time, it has proved to be a great success. Uncle John said in Australia, Melbourne had refused to get rid of their trams, which was a wise decision; Brisbane, however, opted to replace trams with buses, which in his opinion were not as good.

Uncle John also remembered that his father had once worked as a window dresser at Lewis's, a chain of British department stores founded by David Lewis in 1856; Bill said it was such a shame we had not been able to visit Liverpool a little earlier, because the store had only recently closed, and it would have been so good to have had the chance to go inside and look round.

From this commemorative plaque.....

After lunch, we went back to Lewis's and took photos; it was so sad to see how dilapidated the once-proud store had become.

We saw Jacob Epstein's statue standing proud (in more ways than one!) above the building's main entrance; officially named "Resurgent," it was unveiled to celebrate Lewis's centenary. It is known to the locals as "Dicky Lewis."

Apart from all the excitement of visiting Liverpool, during Uncle John's stay we also had more visits into London; we went to Greenwich, and photographed Uncle John with "one foot in the east and one foot in the west:"

We went for a flight on the London Eye:

And we drove to Portsmouth for the day, went on board HMS Victory, HMS Warrior, and saw The Mary Rose:

Uncle John on board Nelson's flagship

A glorious day in Portsmouth - note my parasol!
Proving to Uncle John that England is not as cold as he may remember!

Although it was lovely to go out and about with Uncle John, and he was very happy with all the activities we did, I think possibly the best part of his holiday was being able to just sit and be with us; read the paper and do the crossword and the number puzzle pages; and have the cats love him, and wait for him to pick up the brush for a grooming session.

He introduced the cats to the lint roller - gently passing the sticky sheets over their fur, the roller picked up all the loose hair and fluff. Blackie especially could never get enough of this treatment:he could hear the covering wrapper being peeled off, from a hundred paces, and weaved around Uncle John's feet until it was ready for use. "Only 10 sheets used so far? Keep going!" he seemed to say.

Uncle John never failed to remark on how good my cooking was; whilst he was with us, again he "filled out," and looked really well. When he first arrived, he looked quite small and tired, but after a few days with us - and on my good food - he somehow blossomed, and looked years younger.

He and Mum got on reasonably well, too - Uncle John understood more clearly the problems we had with her moods, and did not provoke her, or disagree with her.  That still didn't stop Mum, right at the end of Uncle John's stay, from picking a quarrel with him! He didn't rise to it; he kept calm, and tried to change the subject, but in her state of mind, she was not to be diverted.

She stormed out of the dining room, declaring she "...would never speak to him, ever again!" and slammed the door behind her.

As we were getting ready to drive Uncle John back to Heathrow, Mum would not come out to say Goodbye to him, which made us very sad. We tried very hard to persuade her to change her mind, but she was adamant; she would not see him off.

Uncle John was philosophical. "She can't help it," he said. We were left hoping there would be another occasion when Uncle John would be back with us in England again, and Mum would be in a different frame of mind.

Happily, there was; of which more later.

Uncle John Pays Us Another Visit

Uncle John Pays Us Another Visit

I love keeping "proper" photograph albums - those peculiar old-fashioned books with beautiful creamy heavy quality paper, with glassine interleaves - and I also have special books for any interviews and stories about our family that have been published in various newspapers.

I was looking through some press cuttings albums this week; it was so good to remember when Uncle John came over to England and stay with us during the summer, and the great times we had.

His first visit, in 2009, was such a treat; fearing he might outstay his welcome, he only stayed for a month, but he soon realised it was really too short a time to make a long flight worthwhile. He also knew how very welcome he was and, apart from Mum having a few "funny turns," we all got on very well, so it was great news when he decided to pay us another visit in 2010.

This time, he came for about six weeks - still not long enough! but heading in the right direction.

The pattern for this visit followed along the same lines as his earlier stay with us, with shopping, jaunts into London for meals at Garfunkels, and another Tea at the Ritz. We also saw a couple of shows; Uncle John had never seen The Mousetrap - neither had we! - and was keen to go, so I got tickets, and we all had an entertaining evening, becoming part of an Agatha Christie conspiracy: "Don't ever tell anyone the whodunit!"

Al, Mum and me, Wendy and Uncle John
Enjoying another Tea at the Ritz

Uncle John relaxing at home with us

Wendy and I thought Uncle John would also like a trip back to Liverpool, and he jumped at the chance to revisit all the places from his childhood - the street where he was born, and the area he grew up in. I also got in touch with the Liverpool Echo; the editorial staff were keen to meet him, and  interview him about his childhood, and hear his views on how the city had changed over the years.

In the event, Uncle John had not one, but two trips up north!

To start with, it was arranged that Wendy would drive Uncle John to Liverpool; as we all know, Wendy loves driving, and needs no second bidding to embark on a car journey; I am not so keen! I got in touch with William Leece from The Liverpool Echo, to make a date and time for them all to meet up after lunch.

On the day, Wendy and Uncle John set off at a very early hour, but it was one of those days when everything conspired against them for an easy run. There were road works, diversions, heavy traffic and, whatever decision Wendy took to try to find a way around each problem, it merely led to another delay; in the end, they did not arrive in Liverpool until very late that afternoon. Throughout the journey, they had kept in touch with William Leece, but when it became clear they would arrive too late for them to meet, everyone had to admit defeat and accept it wouldn't be possible for Uncle John to be interviewed - at least, not on this visit.

Their stay was still very enjoyable and a real nostalgia trip for Uncle John.  Wendy took him to all the places he knew - 76, Breck Road, where Mum was born on 28 October 1919, and 11 Acheson Road, where he was born exactly three and a half years later, on 28 April 1923. He remembered all the areas from his childhood, Tuebrook, Allerton and Woollton. Uncle John's Grandfather and stepmother lived at 67 Purley Grove, and the house still carries a plaque with the name "Ulverston" on it  - the town where my great-grandfather was born.

Uncle John was born at No 11, Acheson Road

"Ulverston," the house in Purley Grove where my great-grandfather and his wife lived 

The trip also brought back some very sad memories for Uncle John. His brother Austin died in February, 1938, in London. He was only 20, and when his body was brought back to Liverpool, my grandfather was distraught. Their house was called "Sunnyside," and my grandfather immediately painted over the name; it was no longer appropriate for them to live in a house with that name.  At the funeral, Austin's girlfriend paid tribute to a lovely young man, "The most generous boy I ever met."  Uncle John and Wendy visited Kirkdale Cemetery and found the family grave, where his mother - my Grandma - is buried with her eldest son, Austin, and her husband, my grandfather, John Woods.

My grandfather died in 1943 - in an accident - and my grandma often wondered, had he known he would live for only another 5 years, if it would have helped him in his grief. As it was, she had to contend with the loss of her son and husband, and the resulting hardship of having very little money to live on.

Wendy and Uncle John went down to the docks, which had changed out of all recognition since Uncle John was last in Liverpool, but the Liver Building was still there, and the birds still keep watch over the city. Uncle John was very impressed by Wendy's driving, taking him to all the places of interest, and they enjoyed exploring his old haunts.

It was an all too brief visit, and whilst they were away, I kept in touch with William Leece, the reporter from the Liverpool Echo and he was still very keen to meet Uncle John. The minute Uncle John and Wendy got home, I asked him, "Would you like a second trip up north - with me, by train?!"

"Oh, yes, I would!" Uncle John's answer was firm.

Wendy was not entirely surprised I was going to book train tickets, because she knows I am never keen to volunteer for a long drive, but to this day, she still thinks I should have given it a go!

Uncle John was back home with us for just 48 hours, and then we were ready to set off up north again: this time from Euston to Liverpool Lime Street Station.

Mum Proves She Can Still Remember Things

Mum Proves She Can Still Remember Things

Mum can go off on a tangent. Sometimes she talks about people and occasions and, because we usually know the background to what and to whom she is referring, we can work out where she is in her mind.

I know carers are trained to agree with what clients say,  even if it is incorrect, but I have a different perspective, especially relating to someone like Mum. Because we know her so well, my belief is that she should be guided gently back to what is true.

Sometimes, Mum says, "Where's my mother?" and I do not see the point of saying, "Oh, she's out shopping." Some long time ago, I heard a carer saying this to Mum; Mum got a bit agitated, and said, "No, she isn't - she can't be.....!" so it was obvious that reply was not going to satisfy her. I remember stepping in and explaining that Grandma had died in 1985, and that she was buried in Liverpool. Mum asked a few more questions about what had happened to her mother, and when I told her how Grandma had had a fall and broken her hip, Mum said, "Oh, and is that what killed her?"

"Yes," I said, "that contributed to it."

That satisfied Mum, and was the end of the matter, but it proved to me that, somewhere in Mum's head, are true memories of things that happened in the past, and it is better to help her remember accurately, rather than just fobbing her off with banal, untrue assurances.

Yesterday evening was a case in point. Mum was really "on the ball," and talking animatedly about her family, and when they lived in Liverpool.

"Yes," she said, "it was very sad. My elder brother - his name was Austin - he got pneumonia. He was only twenty when he died."

The carers made very sympathetic responses, and I looked in and added, "Mum is absolutely spot on. That is exactly what happened!"

Mum then carried on talking about her parents, and how her father had died, five years later, and was buried in Liverpool, with his son.

After that, she went on to happier themes, and chatted merrily away about her younger brother, John - and was very much in elder sister mode.

"John is 3 years younger than I am, " said Mum, "and he's 95 now. He lives in Brisbane, and he's looking for a wife!"

(And so he is - or at least, since he was widowed 15 years ago, he would love to find a nice lady companion, with whom he can go out for lunch, and enjoy sensible conversation once or twice a week!)

"How old are you?" asked one of the carers.

"I'm 98!" said Mum.

I think that exchange may prove my point that, at least in Mum's case, clear memories can come to the fore, and if on some days she is confused, honesty is the best policy.

A Carer Returns And See A Change

A Carer Returns And Sees A Change

We have lovely carers for Mum, who take the time and trouble to get to know her, and her ways, and we always miss anyone who decides to take a break, or have a change of career. 

One carer, who last saw Mum at about Christmas time last year - 9 months ago now - recently returned to us, and she was very pleased to see Mum still going strong. 

However, because we are with Mum all the time, and although we also know the past year has seen Mum get weaker in her legs, we tend not to notice exactly how quickly or slowly these changes take place. We could see this carer was a bit shocked to find Mum was no longer able to support herself anymore, and - even with help from us - unable to get off the bed and transfer to the chair or the glider.

We realise that because Mum is now hoisted at every visit, her strength has obviously declined - a clear case of "What you don't use, you lose."  We understood completely why the decision was taken to hoist Mum - Mum's fluctuating ability to understand directions, and her penchant for suddenly trying to collapse in a heap in mid-transfer, meant that without warning, her whole weight could be placed on whoever was standing behind her, trying to support her whilst she tried to do the "twiddle round" manoeuvre.

This was not a safe situation for anyone. The carers could end up with a strained back, or worse, and there was also the concern that if she could not be held up, Mum could end up on the floor, and that was a scenario that had to be avoided.

Over the months, we try to look for all the positives: yes, she may have to be hoisted, but at least she can be placed on the glider, and wheeled into the bathroom, where she can still wash her hands under running water from the bath taps. She is not just looking at the same four walls of her bedroom. She can also be hoisted into her wheelchair, for trips out of the house, and a nice drive in a wheelchair accessible taxi into London, for Tea at the Ritz. The next one has already  been booked!

I Escape For A Couple Of Days!

I Escape For A Couple Of Days!

I never expected to be able to go away on holiday this year. It's always been a bit difficult to get away, but in the past it was certainly easier to organise a weekend off, as Mum was much stronger, and able to get in and out of bed herself, and sit in the chair/glider/wheelchair; with the carers visiting four times a day, one member of the family could manage to deal with all the other aspects of caring for Mum.

Now that Mum is hoisted at all times, it isn't that simple and, of course, her ability to understand and follow what needs to be done can be a bit variable!

It was a terrific surprise when Wendy announced she had organised everything - including Al being available to spend two days with his Great Grandma, which meant there would be two members of the family at home with Mum. I could relax!

Last week, we flew from City Airport to Frankfurt; Wendy, always competent driving on either side of the road, hired a car, and we were soon heading off to visit dear friends.

We also went shopping - C&A is still thriving in Germany, and we had a request for jeans and tops from Al; Wendy knows exactly what he likes, and found clothes to fit the bill.

Then there is Globus, a large supermarket, with groceries on the ground floor, and clothing, shoes, stationery, make up and toiletries on the upper floor - just like Tesco and Sainsbury's, but really rather better. It was lovely and warm in the store - I think gas and electricity is probably cheaper in Germany, and they can afford to keep the shop warm and toasty!

Because the October Fest is drawing near, Globus also had a wonderful array of dirndls on display. I love dressing up and wearing Tracht, so, with Wendy's encouragement, I tried one on. It fitted perfectly, and it's now back home with me, waiting for an event when I can dress up for the occasion!

On the Sunday, we had time to drive to St Augustine, to visit a lovely family whom we hadn't seen for such a long time.

They are such good, dear people; they made us so welcome, and the morning we spent with them just flew by. Hildegard had made a delicious Black Forest cake for us, and as we talked and reminisced, the years since our last meeting just fell away and it felt as though it had only been a month or two ago since we last met up.

We all have wonderful memories, of attending the youngest son's wedding in a castle in Mandescheid - a marvellous venue, set up on a very high hill. The wedding had a mediaeval theme, with everyone asked to wear costumes that would have been appropriate to the era. I made dresses for Wendy, Mum and me, with long sweeping skirts and long pointed sleeves; the menfolk wore Knights of the Realm outfits and everyone entered into the spirit of a memorable day.

From the base of the hill, it took at least 300 paces to get to the first level, and more to reach the battlements and the towers. In places there were just smooth, worn stones, and you had to be very careful walking up, so that you did not slip. We were a bit concerned for Mum, as she was then nearly 85, and we wondered if she would manage to climb up so far, but she managed perfectly well - and so did I, even in high heels! All the guests made their way up to the courtyard where the marriage took place, and then everyone enjoyed a magnificent feast in the dining area of the castle, where traditional mediaeval food was served, including platters of fowl, and pork and fruits.

Afterwards, there was jousting and sword fights - Mum was in her element, taking everything in. It is something that she still remembers, and when we talk to our friends on the phone, Mum can recall so many things about that lovely day.

That's really what friendship is all about - being there for each other, and sharing experiences. We'll make sure we don't let such a long time elapse before arranging another visit, even if it is only a fleeting one!

Hildegard, Miriam, Alexandra and Wendy
A happy reunion at St Augustine 

Just As I Thought I Didn't Have Much To Write About.....

Just As I Thought I Didn't Have Much To Write About....

The past ten days have been so uneventful - just the usual routine, all going well - that I reckoned there wasn't much point in writing about nothing!

Wendy always says, "No news is good news." Especially where Mum is concerned, I think we all prefer a simple, boring life, to one that is ridden with difficulties... but the past 24 hours have given me something to write about.

Mum got to bed last night at about 11.00 p.m., and settled down well enough. I'd had supper and worked at my creative stuff upstairs until the early hours, and when I realised how late it had got, knew it was about time I got to bed. One can take this "Owl" mentality a tad too far.

I looked in on Mum at about 2.00 a.m. and she was wide awake, and raring to get up and go.  Go exactly where, I didn't know, but she certainly wanted to get up.

I was firm.

"Mum, it's very late. It's the middle of the night, and time to sleep, so go to sleep now."

"Why? What time is it?"

"It's 2 o'clock in the morning, Ma, and I am going to bed."

"Why? Haven't you been to bed yet?"

"No, I haven't. I've been working. But I am now going to bed."

"Oh."

"All the cats are asleep as well," I said, "so now we must sleep as well."

"Alright, then."

I made sure Mum had plenty of tissues, was warm and comfortable, and she seemed to accept it was very late (or very early, depending on which way you looked at it), and settled down.

Again, very firmly, I said, "Night, night!" and went off upstairs. It was 2.20 a.m.

At 8.45 a.m., the ladies arrived to get Mum up and washed, and they did not have an easy time of it.

Mum refused to let them wash her - it was the usual thing when Mum is stroppy:

"You're not trained properly!"  "Ugly Mug!" "I'll report you to Head Office...!!"

Oh, dear.

Being very experienced with Mum's foibles, using guile and persuasion, they did wash Mum, by dint of asking her, "Can I just do this arm, please, Phyllis?"

"Yes, alright, then - just that arm."

Then: "Can I just do this other arm, please, Phyllis?"

And so, in this fashion, Mum was properly washed, and dressed in clean clothes.

She was hoisted into the chair and there she sat, looking very much like Giles' Grandma - decided grumpy, and very unco-operative.

As the ladies left, they wished us good luck; and this was when our problems for the morning began.

When Mum decides not to co-operate, clearly you can't make her do something she doesn't want to do - even if it has been part of her daily routine for the past six and a half years!

We always wash her hands first and, with a bit of encouragement, she did get her hands in a bowl of hot soapy water and had a good wash, followed by a clean bowl of water to rinse in; I got her hands dry, and thought, "So far, so good!"

Next, I brought her toothbrush and toothpaste - but Mum was adamant she was not going to brush her teeth.  It really is important that she clean her teeth and mouth properly - during the night (and throughout the day), Mum produces a lot of phlegm, and needs to clear it.

Then Mum went on the tack of how did she know the brush was clean? Was it kept in the cupboard?

"It's very clean!" We reassured her. "It's your toothbrush!"

"Has it been scalded?"

Oh dear. If you have every tried to sterilise a toothbrush using boiling water, the usual result is that all the nylon bristles fall out. I use Milton to clean a new toothbrush.

So I lied: "Yes, it has been scalded."

It is so difficult when Mum is in this mood. She started landing out at us, and spitting. I told her to stop, and then we got Frank Richards' "Owl of the Remove" Billy Bunter script:

"Yarroooh! Gerroff!" along with more of the "Ugly Mug! I don't want you in here!" lines.

At this point, it made us wonder if Mum is in fact scared because she can't work out where she is - or if it is because the dementia is causing her brain to go into "attack" mode.

We managed to get her teeth and mouth half-way brushed and clean, and with the mood she was in, that was going to have to do.

I brought in her tea and cornflakes, and her pills.

I tried to be bright and positive: "Here you are, Ma! I've brought you a lovely cup of tea!"

"I don't want it!"

"Well, what about your lovely cornflakes, then? I've put full-cream milk on them?"

"I don't want them."

"But you've got to have your pills, Ma - they are the ones the Doctor prescribed for you..."

"I don't want them."

It was not going to wash.

I covered everything up and took it back to the kitchen.  I hadn't had my breakfast, so took the easy option to get something to eat and have a cup of tea.

After an hour or so, I went back in, bearing the gifts of tea, cornflakes and pills.

I thought I would play it as though the earlier tantrums hadn't happened.

"Hi, Ma!" I said, "I've brought you a lovely cup of tea - and some lovely cornflakes!"

"I don't want anything."

My heart sank.  "You've got to eat, Ma, otherwise you could end up in hospital."

"Maybe I'd prefer to be in hospital!"

"No, you wouldn't! You wouldn't get nice food like the things I make for you....."

That seemed to strike a chord.

"Will you have a few cornflakes, with your pills?" I asked.

"Alright, then - just a few."

And that was the start of better co-operation.

In the end, Mum had quite a lot of cereal - later on, she even fed herself! - took her pills and drank all her tea. I sat with her and we watched an interesting programme on the jungles of Africa, which caught her attention, followed by Bruce Forsythe hosting Play Your Cards Right. Mum remembers "Brucie" from the time when he toured South Africa and appeared at the Alhambra Theatre in Durban. He picked her out of the audience and talked to her, and to this day, she will tell people about it!

The ladies returned at 12.30, and asked me how I'd got on.

I said, "You weren't kidding, when you wished me luck!"

Mum was better with the idea of returning to bed for a snooze, although she still needed reminding that it was a good idea to have a rest - and that the cats had also had their breakfasts, and were fast asleep in the lounge.

I guess the hardest part of this morning was dealing with all the uncertainty: Will she/won't she eat/drink/take pills, etc. - I worry about her not having enough fluids and I know taking her medication is important. Whichever way you look at it, caring for someone like Mum is hard work, but it's easy and a happy task when she's chatty and helpful. It's the not knowing how things will develop that I have found difficult to cope with. If Mum misses one cup of tea, I suppose it is not a disaster, and we can make up for it with an extra cuppa later on; maybe the same applies to the dose of medicine. I will have to try to be more philosophical and accepting about it.

A Physiotherapist Comes To Call

A Physiotherapist Comes To Call

In September last year, when it had been decided Mum wasn't reliably able to bear her weight anymore, it meant she would have to be hoisted in and out of bed, and in and out of the chair, so I was keen to make sure she would retain what decent muscle tone she still had.

We have always encouraged her to "....push hard down on the arms of the chair, and lift yourself up!" and get herself comfortably positioned on the seat.

She also knows that if she sits on the edge of the bed, and pushes hard down with her hands on the bed, she can lift herself up from there as well. It's the old jet engine law - downward thrust lifts up.

Over the years that Mum has lived with us, I have introduced a little routine of exercises that at various times, we all ask Mum to do. She will never exercise if it is presented as a PE session, but throughout the day, she actually does quite a lot, and it is always purpose-focussed.

Because she would not now be getting herself up and down and in and out of bed, I also wanted to make sure that the movements I'd worked out to help her, really were doing the job. I asked the Occupational Therapist if she could please arrange a home visit from a Physiotherapist; true to her word, she did.

After a very short waiting time, a young man rang up to make an appointment to come and see Mum. It turned out we had all met before - years ago, when her GP was concerned about the way she was walking, using the stool instead of a Zimmer frame, this young man had come to see Mum, and given her some good exercises to do on a regular basis. On that occasion, Mum had realised they were actually exercises, and most of the time she refused to do them; but it was really good to have this continuity with someone who remembered her.

I showed him what we had been encouraging Mum to do. She can still lift her legs up high - for example, when she is lying on the bed, she can lift both legs in the air together; she can sit herself up and, when she is sitting in the arm chair, and I have to put cream on her legs, I put a dining chair in front of her - in seconds, one leg is up on the seat!

After we have been having a good singing session, I also ask her to raise her arms up and clap her hands above her head; when we go to the bathroom, I make sure Mum is wheeled on the glider to the bath, and encouraged to reach right over and turn the bath taps on so that she can wash her hands properly. She might need help to turn the taps off, but it's all good stretching movement and thinking exercise and whilst she can still do these things, I don't want them to fall by the wayside.

The Physiotherapist was very impressed; he had brought along four pages with illustrations of exercises, and we were delighted to learn that Mum was already doing most of them. So, we carry on keeping Mum's muscles as strong as they can be; she is still unaware that the exercises are introduced into her routine, but they are working - and working well.