Wednesday, 19 December 2007


So much for anticipatory grief. This morning I was reminded why it'll be good for both of us when Mum is housed elsewhere.

After a relatively good week of untroubled nights (helped by a rather stern notice on my locked bedroom door), I was woken at 4 am by Mum knocking and calling to say that the dog wanted to go out into the garden. I didn't take it well. When Mum disturbed me a second time 20 minutes later, I lifted her up bodily and carried her back to her bedroom, put her on her bed and turned the light out. I am haunted now by her little strangled noises of outrage as I carried her. 20 minutes later she did it again. Of course, I was so worked up that I couldn't sleep after that.

I thought we had a routine here: each morning for 3 weeks now I've woken up at 7:30, gone downstairs, let the dog out, made breakfast for Mum and then taken a bath while she ate. Usually, I have to help Mum dress, reminding her what to put on next. Today she was fully dressed at 4, and had helped herself to a bowl of cereal. Unfortunately, with all my crockery in the dishwasher, Mum had used an old bowl I keep under a plant pot and which is dirty and cracked, and probably infused with plant food. If she starts putting on inches, or growing ferns out of her ears, I'll blame the 'Baby Bio'...

I didn't think it wise to drive this morning and I considered placing Mum in a different day-care place, locally, one geared to advanced Dementia, but I couldn't do it because it would have been revenge, which should never be acted upon (I always say: 'Revenge is sweet but I'm counting calories'). Instead we're back to me trying to work here while Mum creaks up the stairs every few minutes, then creaks down again having left the loo un-flushed.

I went out for sandwiches at lunchtime. I gave Mum hers just as my phone rang. I walked into the next room to take the call. When I came back, Mum was finishing the sandwich..... except that her sandwich was still on the plate in front of her. She had reached over and taken my sandwich out of the bag. I'm vegetarian, so I couldn't eat her prawn/avocado combo, so that was my lunch gone.

Apparently she can move in on Friday. Almost there. Oh to be in bed right now!


BigAssBelle said...

poor baby. this killed me: I am haunted now by her little strangled noises of outrage as I carried her.

it's so hard not to get angry. we have feelings too, and the frustration can be so extreme. but always the guilt and, for me, a terrible shame that comes. unbearable.

Greg said...

Some blog posts I just don't want to include, but I want to be honest here. If I sanitised this, how would that help the next person who comes along and has frustrations in the same way? I feel diminished and tawdry and soulless for giving in, and all my excuses are crap... I was tired but I'm guilty. Hopefully all the rest I'm doing mitigates the odd lapse, but I feel like I have to walk 100 miles on nails and broken glass to make up for one step in that direction. I was listening to a BBC download "In Our Time" about "Guilt" and there was an interesting discussion about the difference between "Shame" and "Guilt" - shame is when you just want to hide away from everyone, but guilt is where there is nowhere to hide because you want to hide from yourself. I'm feeling guilty.