Hello from a grey East Sussex.
I think one of the worst things for those of us wit a chronic disease is to witness the fall of a close relative to something really nasty. Because I was very limited in how I could support my poor mum, I felt very frustrated. It still picks away at me now. Here are some of my thoughts if you wish to read them.
Happy Mondays. Steve
what a passionately written memoir! I guess a lot of us can identify with that closeness a family has…ordinary yet extra ordinary at the same time.
Your mum…like a lot of mums…working hard both inside and outside the home…with never so much as a whimper about her lot.
Bless your memories and bless you.
Oh, Steve. I really feel for you.
My mother could also have been described as a serial carer, two daughters and a disabled husband. When dad died of a stroke, it was a blessed release for both of them. I don’t think she could have coped with his declining health much longer. Two years ago mum had a fall and ended up in hospital where she had a stroke. She recovered from that but, just as she was getting strong enough to go home, she had another fall and broke her hip. It took a long time for that to heal and she never recovered mentally. Now she spends most of the time asleep. We visit the nursing home as often as we can, but she seldom wakes up to talk to us. The hardest thing was when I admitted to myself that she had given up. Mum was always a fighter and I never thought that anything could beat her. Now she’s just a shadow of the woman I remember.
When I first realised my mum had dementia, a lot of other people came forward with their own story to tell. The worst thing was the giving up. Thanks for you support.
It’s very sad how things turned out for your family.
Killing me Steve. Just killing me…
Your descriptive writing is poignant and full of imagery. When your first collection of writings is published I shall be first in line to purchase.
My husband’s younger sister aged 56, (my age), has Downs Syndrome and has been in a Sheltered Housing Community for most of her life. There are justifiable reasons for this, and why she didn’t remain in her family home after the age of eleven. We moved from the UK many years ago now, and he stopped phoning her a long time ago. As time passed she had no idea who it was that she was taking to. No idea who he was. His beloved little sister wasn’t there anymore. Just this week, we got the news that dementia is tightening it’s grip on her. She no longer feels comfortable going out, either with her care team or to social occasions, preferring instead to stay in her room, alone. The Home thinks it might be a nice idea to “bring the world to her” and have asked him and his other sister to send some photos and memories, to make a scrap book. It might “jog her memory”. So sad. It was a very grey coloured weekend here. I’m sure they mean well, but we see it as a precursor of what is perhaps, soon to follow. It is indeed a terrible darkness, as you so eloquently described it.
Now, have you read the book Ethel and Ernest by Raymond Briggs? You will be familiar with his work, The Snowman, I’m sure. I read this many years ago and found it just beautiful. Written in cartoon book style, like The Snowman it resonated with me and moved me to tears. I recommend it to you.
Just posted on your thread on the PPMS forum too.