It’s been a day of mixed blessings. Some good and some not so…
Last night I slept with Mum in her room. When I say ‘slept,’ what I mean to say is that I lay next to her whilst she made a cacophony of sounds all night, and I also had to get up to help her ‘toilet’ twice. I barely slept, if at all and started developing a massive migraine at about 3am. Once started, they usually last me about five days – which I could obviously do without and especially this week.
Mum was full of joy when she woke up. She was aware that she now lives here and said that it was ‘a very good thing.’
We’ve had visits from an assessor to provide appropriate sensors to let us know when Mum leaves her room, so that I can return to mine and only get up as and when required (and hopefully get some semblance of sleep in between). He was personable, helpful and supportive.
We have also had a telephone consultation with Mum’s new GP surgery, who were incredible at organising an urgent District Nurse appointment for tomorrow. It was only last night, as I was giving Mum her nighttime meds, that I saw the note from the scare home that informed me that a District Nurse had been visiting Mum daily there to put dressings on sores on her feet. They are so sore that we couldn’t even walk around the block earlier. We were informed by the GP that all of this should have been set up in advance by them. What’s new?
At around 5pm, Mum started to meltdown again. I was informed by a FB friend that it could be ‘sundowning;’ an issue that afflicts those with dementia. Or, it could be low blood sugar due to her new diabetic safe diet. We will now provide a Huel chocolate shake at around 4.30pm and see if that makes a difference.
Another happening today was the delivery of a swivel bath chair. We actually need something more to get Mum in and out of the bath; namely a wet room – which would have been provided by our local authority, if our local authority wasn’t going to raze the estate on which we live to the ground at ‘some point’ – so, we have to risk Mum’s safety and my back by trying to use equipment that is causing us more stress, not less.
Also, it’s worth noting that no one from the local authority/social services has contacted us since Mum came home yesterday to find out how we are coping and if we need any support. Bearing in mind we are in this situation because of their total lack of support since we ever had dealings with them over eleven years ago, we are not surprised in the least.
Everyone is being very encouraging about what we are doing; saying that it is the right thing for Mum, and it is. But is it the right thing for us? My c-PTSD is off the scale, as it has been throughout this horrendous journey with my mother (from day 1 and counting), and yet I either give up my life and freedom to do this, or have no life because of the stress in trying to get her the care she needs. It’s a no-win situation.
I’ll update further if there’s more to add.
Over and out.
Toula Mavridou-Messer 