Busy on Wednesday, I postponed my visit to see dad until Thursday. The drive takes about 40 minutes to an hour, so I always hope that there is going to be some reason for the visit to be prolonged more than a few minutes, otherwise the journey seems excessive. I aimed to get to the retirement village at 4 pm. I walked in and was pleased to see dad sitting in the common room, dressed in a bright red flannel shirt and looking relatively normal compared to the others around him. There was evidence that he had wet himself, and that the nappy that all the residents wear was leaking a bit. He recognised me and immediately said hello, and then, 'I want to get out of this place.' I couldn't look him in the eye. I said 'you are going to have to get a bit better first, dad.' He didn't understand this. I made a bit of smalltalk, asking him how he was, and so on. I asked him about the walking frame in front of him, whether it was his, despite the fact that I could see it was labelled with his name. A few minutes later he asked to be taken out of there again. And again, I had to look away, knowing as I did so that my aversion to the question was something he might sense even if he cannot see or hear properly. I had been thinking of bringing mum in to see him, partly because of the possibility that it might be her last chance, and partly because it would undoubtedly be motivating for dad. Now, even though dad is recovering well and things are looking a lot better for him, it seemed the best thing to do to keep his mind off getting out.

'I'll bring mum in to see you in a few minutes, dad.'
'Is she here?'
'Yes. Just next door. Sit here and I'll go and bring her to you.'

On the way out I caught the eye of a member of staff. I told her that I was going next door to get my mother and that perhaps it would be good if a seat were placed next to my dad so that she could sit there.

Mum was taking part in a sing-song ('Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen') but when she saw me she got up and left the group. She came over for a hug, and I walked her out of her area, into dad's next door. She was already getting nervous as we approached the door. Once inside she became more apprehensive. The people in dad's area are a bit louder and apparently less docile. It has not as relaxed an atmosphere as mum's area.

As we entered dad's common room I saw that a chair had been placed next to him, but that a woman was just about to occupy it. She had barely begun to bend into it when another woman stepped forward and stopped her. 'Oh, good,' I though, 'they've been told not to sit there.' But as I watched, slowly walking mum towards it, the other woman sat down in it herself. When mum and I got over to dad, he recognised her and reached both arms up towards her. Mum stepped forward and bent down, putting her arms out to dad. In slow motion, they closed in on each other and dad kissed mum on the cheek. Then, the effort of leaning forward having tired him, dad sat back and they held hands, mum leaning over dad awkwardly. I turned to the woman who had sat down next to dad, and said:

'Would you mind letting my mother have that chair so that she can sit next to her husband?'
'No, I'm not going to do that,' she replied.

Well, I know there is no point trying to reason with people with dementia, once they have their mind set on something, but as mum and I stood there, this woman appeared to become irritated with us taking her space.

'You know, it really would be much easier if you just let my mother sit there,' I said.
'No, I'm not going to do that,' she repeated.

I was irritated, to say the least. I turned mum and led her to two adjacent empty chairs on the far side of the room. I sat her down and tried to calm her - saying that she should just stay there for a few minutes and I would bring dad over. Already, she seemed to be losing the sense of what I was saying, and was wringing her hands. I went back to dad and urged him up out of his chair, and got his weight over the walker. He is able to push it forward, but his steering is not that good. I had to keep wrenching it to the side while at the same time supporting a lot of his weight. We negotiated our way through the sprawled legs and discarded walkers and soon reached mum. I turned dad around and got him to fold his frame and settle into the chair. But, he just slumped right down, completely exhausted, and wouldn't open his eyes. I tried to get him to sit up, even bodily lifting him, at which point the member of staff reappeard to tell me that was all wrong.

We managed to get dad into a half sitting, half slumped position, but his eyes were closed.

'Open your eyes, dad. Mum is here and she will be going in a few minutes.' But dad was out of it, and now mum was getting quite distraught, apparently afraid of dad. Dad had been sitting on a cushion to either absorb urine or ease the pressure on his bones, but even though I went back to get it, I couldn't get it under him. The first need then became getting mum out of there before she really got upset. I walked her back next door. As I went through the gate, a wild-eyed woman was shouting 'someone's fallen over in the street.' At first, I put this down to demented delusion, but then I saw down at the far end of the facility a door was open and what looked like a body was slumped on the floor inside. I left mum and went down to see what was wrong. A lady had fallen over after using the toilet, and was being helped to her feet by two old men. It looked very much as if the three of them were going to fall over again, together this time. I pulled the lady's pants up, and positioned her with her hands on the basin, and the two men holding her at the elbows. I went back to the desk and told the staff what had happened. They both just looked at me as if I had said, 'the sky is blue'.

The next time I looked at mum she was miles away, and had apparently forgotten I was there. So, I left. I'd planned on being there for maybe an hour, but it was all over in less than 20 minutes.

Result: dad exhausted, mum distraught, me frustrated.