Description
What happens to a family when both parents are diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease?
This weblog chronicles the experiences of one such family in Sydney, Australia.
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Saturday 27 January 2007
By MM on Saturday 27 January 2007, 20:27 - Journal
Monday 22 January 2007
By MM on Monday 22 January 2007, 14:41 - Journal
Wednesday 20 December 2006
By MM on Wednesday 20 December 2006, 14:48 - Journal
Early this morning I checked in on dad. He was up before 6:00 and all dressed for day care. I'd seen him going into the shower last night, too. The webcam is proving extremely useful.
I made a call to him at 9:00, reminding him not to go to day care at the usual time. Before I arrived at about 10:20 he had called me back twice to ask what the new arrangements were.
Mum was fast asleep and I didn't give much for my chances of getting her up and out for a party in half an hour, but we did manage it. Of the 40 minutes it took her to get ready, over 30 were spent sitting on the bed fiddling with underwear.
Although five minutes late, we were among the early ones. We were ushered into the nursing home adjacent to the day care centre - an anodyne, forbidding place of flourescent lighting, suspended panel ceilings, off-white palette, and characteristic odour. I didn't like it at all. The prospect of ending up in a place like that appalls me. I seriously would rather be dead. And that was before the festivities started.
Music was being strangled by a tinny portable stereo sitting on a table. Justifiably homicide, since it was all smaltzy ersatz muzak versions of Christmas standards. First item on the programme proper was a Christmas quiz. The quizmistress didn't understand half the questions, and mispronounced nearly all of them. One chap in the front row, porky and florid, kept making lewd suggestions to her. Dad jerked a foot towards him and leaned towards me.
'None of the blokes like him very much. Very uncouth.'
Quiz over, we all moved to the tables. I was not enjoying myself. Actually, it was an ordeal. Mum was still fairly composed, and dad was pretty much in his element, since he is familiar with nearly everyone there now. I was dreading the food. A picky eater at the best of times I was hoping that I wouldn't have to make excuses for not eating.
The fare was warm turkey, beef and ham slices, smothered in gravy, lightly roasted potato and pumpkin, processed peas, beans and carrots. A dollop of Cranberry sauce sat in a sea of gravy. I'm a vegetarian for a start. I don't mind cold food and I don't mind wet food, but I baulk at cold wet textures. I don't like gravy or Cranberry sauce. Pumpkin is edible as long as it is hot and salty. There was no salt on the table. Still, I was the first to finish. Some had barely started the random repositioning of food on the plate that seems to be a necessity in the later years.
Conversation was hard work, but I was more concerned with watching mum for signs of restlessness. She managed to eat all her lunch - quite an unusual feat for her. What she left, dad cleaned up anyway.
Next, we moved back to the lounge to listen to a latin quartet: marimba, accordion, guitar and singer. They managed passable versions of songs drawn from the repertoires of Glen Miller, Edith Piaf and Harry Bellafonte, notwithstanding arthritic guitar solos and toothless percussion. Only three or four of the audience fell asleep. The band redeemed themselves with quite a clever arrangement of Rodrigo's Aranjuez guitar concerto - surely one of the most achingly beautiful pieces of music ever written. While mum enjoyed the music she tapped her feet and kept the beat on the arm of her chair, but a few seconds later, when the band changed their tune, she might sit forward and start staring around with that 'what am I doing here?' expression. I could understand this. There were moments when I thought I was in a David Lynch movie, too. Soon, mum's restlessness got the upper hand and we had to beat a retreat.
Back home the house was cleaned (Alison was in today) and the lawn mowed (the lawnmower man made his monthly visit too). Cups of tea all round, and that, for 2006, was Christmas.
Tuesday 14 November 2006
By MM on Tuesday 14 November 2006, 13:13 - Reference
I thought it might be useful to list our various medical and social services personnel - for reference. I might come back and update this particular post as time goes by.
|
Dr Cranium – Geriatrician |
Gentlemanly and popular. It was he who broke the news that dad had Alzheimer's disease. |
|
Dr Mandible – Proctologist |
Avuncular. Got the run around when dad complained of constipation which seemed to be nothing more than not eating. |
|
Dr Femur – General Practitioner |
Cheerful, well-liked by dad. Gets things done. |
|
Dr Anvil – Vascular Surgeon |
Has only ever uttered 16 words in his entire life (nine of which were 'no'). Respected by other doctors. |
|
Dr Patella – General Practitioner |
Cheerful, trusted by mum, but not apparently by the social services. Very happy to make house calls. |
|
Dr Radius – Opthalmologist |
Appears always to be in a bad mood. As a result of which may no longer be getting our business. |
|
Dr Humerus – Psychogeriatrician |
Young and considered something of a star by the social services. Next to impossible to contact. |
|
Dr Sacrum – Dentist |
Helpful when needed, though this appears to hardly ever be the case. |
|
Dr Sternum – Opthalmologist |
Has looked after mum OK. May get to deal with dad too. |
|
Dr Ilium – Cardiologist |
Assured but socially shy. Turned dad into a bionic man with a pacemaker. |
|
Dr Tibia – Dermatologist |
Quite elderly, but smoothe and ready to chat. |
|
Lana – Case Manager |
Cares about mum and dad, but seems unable to provide someone mum really trusts. Has lately seemed to be losing her composure. |
|
Pauline – Careworker extraordinaire |
Left work to look after her own family (and demented mother). Appears to have been irreplacable. |
|
Gail – Careworker now also gone |
Never quite filled Pauline's rather large shoes. Had trouble finding mum's soft spots. |
|
Gail – Day Care Centre Manager |
Tried perhaps too hard to get mum involved, but does a great job of looking after dad on Wednesdays. Brisk and old world in style. |
|
Sophie – Aged Care Assessment Team |
The person who decides whether mum and dad are in need of low care (they are) or high care (probably not yet). Extremely gentle in manner. |
|
Diana – Aged Care Assessment Team |
Says little, but says what matters. A person I can work with. |
|
Nancy – Sydney Home Nursing Service |
Bright and clear thinking. Someone I can work with. |
|
Patrice – Sydney Home Nursing Service |
Stubborn and self-important with flashes of a pleasant personality which she does her best to hide. Has made a bad impression on us from day one. |
|
Alison – Careworker |
Sneaks into the house while mum is being entertained elsewhere, and leaves it sparkling. |
|
Carol – Careworker |
Does the Friday evening meal for mum and dad. Seems great. |
|
Jennifer – Careworker |
Does the Monday evening meal for mum and dad. Also seems great. |
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