November 2017

As I mentioned in my previous blog, this month contained two periods when Anne would not have me around.

The first period was for a week when I was abroad with a charity that I volunteer with. Anne stayed with one of her sisters and brother-in-law. I deliberately did not make any video calls during that time on the basis that it could unsettle Anne. I am grateful to those who cared for Anne during that week. By all accounts she seemed to cope well.

However, I experienced something that hadn't happened before, something that I knew would happen one day, but something that I did not think I would confront for a while.

On my return, I went to collect Anne who was sitting by a window looking through the pictures of a gardening book. I approached her and tapped gently on the window to get her attention. She looked up and stared vacantly at me - there was no recognition. Even when I went inside to greet her there was no recognition of who I was. Eventually, the fog of recognition cleared.

As we drove home in the familiar surroundings of driver and passenger, she kept looking over at me with that wonderful smile. She clearly knew who I was, but for that short period, the lack of recognition was hard to take, as I was not expecting that to occur for a while.  Another "nail in the coffin" of Alzheimer's.

On returning home, Anne developed a cold. Unlike most people, she continued to smile through the sniffles but I was conscious that it was moving into her chest. Despite her cheeriness, I got a call from the day centre where she attends twice a week to say that Anne wasn't herself - she was very quiet and not eating. So, I went and brought her home, and got her a doctor's appointment. As Alzheimer's progresses the risk of infection increases and her listless state was evidence of this.

However, after an early night, the next day she was more like herself and I dropped her off at a residential care home for a planned couple of nights of respite care. I was so impressed by the level of care shown towards her on our arrival. Her temporary room even had her name on it.

I returned home to an empty house and spent the evening alone. It was the next morning as I awoke that it hit me what life would be like in the future. Not having the usual routine of getting Anne up, taking her to the toilet, preparing breakfast and helping her with her cereal, coupled with being alone, was very strange. I sat in silence eating my breakfast.

At the end of Anne's stay in respite care, she was taken directly to her day care centre. I went to pick up her belongings from the care home. She had coped well although that morning had been very quiet and only reluctantly took her medication. I was a bit concerned, but I needn't have been as she came bounding off the day care minibus on her return home, smiling and laughing. She had clearly had a good day. And thankfully, she recognised me!!

So, the period of respite had been successful although it had provided me with a clear picture of what life would be like in the future - at least I am prepared as best can be, and for that I am truly grateful.

until next month,

aye

Gordon