Jeez Rosie - I didn't realise it'd got so serious. It's bad enough having your social/recreational freedom restricted, never mind being confined to a space with a loved one who is slowly and inexorably becoming an unpredictable stranger - no wonder you're resentful. Losing the Big Band thing must be particularly painful. I take it you can't get any cover for those 3 hours? I'm thinking - and this isn't as flippant as it sounds - wouldn't it be wonderful if there existed some sort of benign medication which, when administered, placed the patient in stasis. You could undertake all your filial obligations and when you need a break, pop her a pill, do your thing, and return with no harm done.
(Chalky) The stasis pill would be a wonderful idea, but there isn't one. The nearest one can get is if she's in bed, and she sleeps well but needs to get up rather a lot for wee-wees. This is not always a reliable process (say no more). Sometimes she goes to bed early and I feel I can pop out for a swift 2 pints and a natter but I don't feel I ought to put pressure on her to do so. She has quite enough brain left to hate her situation and the problems she knows she causes me and the hallucinations are largely but not completely suppressed with medication. I have to be an accurate pill-adminstrator, 8 a day, 3 different types. (Projoy) You're probably right. It would be the easy way out and I'd feel guilty using it.
(pen) Well, don't stop entirely, but you know what I mean. :-) You may not think me so admirable if you could hear my muttered comments to myself as I go round the house.
[Rosie] In the general scheme of things, it's admirable. And cursing as you go around the house isn't bad, in the general scheme of things. I lost a parent to a long illness a couple of years ago, although my mother did most of the caring and my father was lucid and tolerant throughout. What we said to him, what we said to ourselves in private and what we said to each each other were different things.
(pen) Thanks. In some ways these things bring out the best in people and as few of us are saints we then have to let go a bit. This doesn't matter as long as we don't hurt anyone. The case of your father sounds very like my father's death, too. He was 83 and quite all there but his body had given up. Between me and my mother his impending death was taboo and in many ways still is, even after 25 yrs. He was a lot older than my Mum and born in 1895, would you believe.
[Rosie] I said something... then accidentally lost it, and was so frustrated, I didn't try to write it again - although it was along the lines of being amazed at two generations spanning three centuries - that's some feat. :o) We're out of biscuits in the office :o(
we're out of biscuits at home. lucky I'm not easting them for lent. in other news the work has kicked in again after roughly a month off so I'll be looking for some sympathy later this evening when it doesn't make sense anymore.
when I say off, I mean "without any major course-credit-carrying-assigments". I actually only had a week off university, some of which I spent on holiday with my parents.
[Rosie] I know that sounds unlikely, but remember that at the time of conception he was probably only 75. On a different note, can I add one more note of both sympathy and admiration for what you are doing. I freely admit to relief at having been spared that ordeal with either of my parents: my mother died fairly rapidly (and as these things go, relatively painlessly) of cancer, and my father of a heart attack just as it was starting to seem that he was going to need full-time care. I witnessed the alternative -- at a distance -- with both of my grandmothers, and it is obviously very difficult for everyone involved.
[Rosie] When I was at school, there was a boy there whose father was in his 80s. (I know it sounds like one of those silly school rumours, but you'll have to trust me that this one was true. Apparently the dad had plenty of money and the rest is history.)
[Rosie] Yep, your maths is right. It will perhaps ease your incredulity if I note that my grandmother was much younger than my grandfather (to the tune of just under fifty years, b. 1917).