They haven't got dementia have they?

John suffers with dementia but you would not know it. I have been visiting him for nearly a year now and he always knows who I am; what he is doing and where he is going. I have often wondered why I make the visits as he has always got up and got dressed, has taken his medication and remembers to put his pendant alarm on.
Yes he is a bit shy and it has taken me a long time to build a trust with him but he seems ok

Pam suffers with dementia but you would not know it. I have been seeing her for about six months; she also knows who I am, when I will arrive, and even drives a car to her grandson on most days to do her washing. Sure she loses her keys on a daily basis but then so do I. She occasionally repeats herself but then who doesn't. The only sign that I can see is her obsession with cleaning; she never stops, but there are lots of people like that too.


So have they really got dementia?
The trouble is that dementia comes in so many different forms

John is having his apartment refurbished and the change in routine really agitating him and making him anxious. When I arrive he is pacing back and forward and won't sit down, He keeps going over and over  the same things and worrying about when it will all be finished.  I sit with him for about half an hour longer than I should but eventually have to leave him on his own. I speak to the warden and she promised to pop back in later. Yes, he has dementia!

 

Pam's medication runs out for her dementia  and because it is the weekend the chemist has not got any in stock until Monday. I arrive on Sunday to find Pam tearful and paranoid that someone is trying to get into her house. The cat has gone missing and in her imagination the woman next door has killed it  (just because she said she does not like cats) and because of a passing comment from someone about cleanliness she is scrubbing the kitchen floor more rigorously than normal. I stay a bit longer and to try and calm her down but until Monday the problem can't be solved. Yes, she has dementia! ............



.........but whatever you do don't mention it in front of her or you'll feel the sharp end of her tongue.

Whenever she asks me what her tablets are for I always tactfully say they are for blood pressure or bones; unfortunately a new carer went in and when asked, told her that the little white one was to keep her anxiety down because she has dementia.  This was an unwise move because not only did she tell the carer in no uncertain terms that she did not have dementia but then proceeded to tell me about it every day for the next fortnight.

'I mean I don't have dementia do I, Bloody cheek'

Alexander the beetle

Last year I learnt the poem below to perform at Old Time Music Hall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forgiven by A.A. Milne

I found a little beetle; so that Beetle was his name,
And I called him Alexander and he answered just the same.
I put him in a match-box, and I kept him all the day ...
Then Nanny let my beetle out -
Yes, Nanny let my beetle out -
She went and let my beetle out -
And Beetle ran away.

She said she didn't mean it, and I never said she did,
She said she wanted matches and she just took off the lid,
She said that she was sorry, but it's difficult to catch
An excited sort of beetle you've mistaken for a match.

She said that she was sorry, and I really mustn't mind,
As there's lots and lots of beetles which she's certain we could find,
If we looked about the garden for the holes where beetles hid -
And we'd get another match-box and write BEETLE on the lid.

We went to all the places which a beetle might be near,
And we made the sort of noises which a beetle likes to hear,
And I saw a kind of something, and I gave a sort of shout:
"A beetle-house and Alexander Beetle coming out!"

It was Alexander Beetle I'm as certain as can be,
And he had a sort of look as if he thought it must be Me,
And he had a sort of look as if he thought he ought to say:
"I'm very very sorry that I tried to run away."

And Nanny's very sorry too for you-know-what-she-did,
And she's writing ALEXANDER very blackly on the lid,
So Nan and Me are friends, because it's difficult to catch
An excited Alexander you've mistaken for a match.

 

I always finish the last line by clapping my hands together and accidently squashing the beetle, I then run off shouting 'Nanny'


As I became more confident with my lines I started to perform for my ladies and gents with varying responses, from bemusement as they wonder about my sanity, to absolute glee.  Even now I still occasionally perform it to new people if I feel it will brighten up their day; I affectionately call it  'Getting Alexander beetle out of his box.'
Recently I performed for one of my new ladies and the giggles I heard as I walked out of the door, were priceless.

This same lady has temporarily lost the use of her legs and lives in a flat with no lift.
'I'm doing a couple more steps a day' she told me' My aim is get down those stairs to see the outside world again'
Following my performance of Alexander, the lady was asking about my shows.
'I do Music Hall every year at the theatre just up the road'
'Oh It's a shame I can't get there, I'd enjoy that' she said
'Well I'll tell you what' I replied 'You get down those stairs by Christmas and I will come and pick you up and take you to the matinee.
Oh that is really lovely, thank you so much. Do you mean it?'
'Of course'
Then she burst into tears
'Thank you so much I now have a real purpose to get down those stairs'

If anyone else fancies coming along to my shows with the Lytton players visit
http://www.lyttonplayers.co.uk/

 

 

Precious Times

As I go round to see my ladies and gents it strikes me that the older we get the more value our time on earth.

 I was touched by a comment from a 95 year old gent today, who dutifully got up to go to the front door of his care home to see his daughter off. This involved a walk down three corridors and trip in the lift.

As he struggled to get out of his chair his daughter protested ‘You stay in your chair Dad, I'll be alright,  I'm sure the Carer has some things to do and probably wants to get on.’

‘No I have a mind of my own and I am going to come downstairs and see you off’ came the firm reply

　
I patiently waited the ten minutes for him to get back up to the room and as he sat down he apologised for making me wait before saying : -

‘I always like to walk down to the front door to say goodbye to my daughters. I may never see them again!’

You've been framed

This story was told to me, by a friend of mine Mike Payne,
 
The other day I went to a care home and as I started walking down the corridor I noticed an elderly lady coming in the other direction. She was in her own little world creeping along, carefully lifting up her Zimmer frame and slowly shuffling forward a few steps at a time.  As it was going to be a bit difficult to pass I stepped back into the entrance hall to let her through.  After a few seconds she looked up and saw me standing there.
'Oh are you waiting for me?'
'Yes but don't worry take your time.'
At which point she lifts up the Zimmer frame and scoots down the corridor, unaided. 
'Thank you dear'

Be careful what you wish for.......

We all want to live to a ripe old age, but as I have been assisting people with their care over the past year, a thought often strikes me that life goes round in a full circle and there comes a point when living to a ripe old age isn’t always the best thing.

When we are born we are pushed around in a pram until we learn to walk with the aid of a frame; as we get older we inevitably need walking aids, be it a stick or a frame and in some cases end up in a wheelchair to help us get around.



As a child we are spoon fed until we eventually learn to feed ourselves using the spoon; Many of my ladies and gents have reverted back to a spoon and indeed some use their fingers to eat because it is so much easier;  as with children I often cut the crusts off of the bread because the elderly do not have teeth to chew. and some of my ladies and gents have to rely on people like me to spoon feed them because they are no longer able to do so themselves

When we are born, we wear nappies and have somebody wipe our bottoms. The elderly often wear a pad and need help cleaning themselves up. In many cases a catheter bag is used to take away the worry of getting to the toilet on time.

We spend a lot of our early lives in bed asleep.. I have quite a few people who spend their life in bed because they are so tired or have lost track of day and night   Many can’t get out of bed even if they want to.

Finally, in our early years we can’t speak and have to learn to recognise friends and family; sadly some of my ladies and gents don’t even recognise their own spouse.

I have a few service users who often comment ‘I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow morning. I have lived far too long.’

I never quite know what to say…

Whatever I say seems inapt and inept


Be careful what wish for…. And take care of your health before it is too late

　

 

what a commode-shun

Every day for the past few months Rene had two topics of interest which I have sympathetically listened to: -
The first: - Because she had had a fall, a commode  had been delivered, so that she did not have so far to travel to go to the toilet during the night

'Do you know Andrew?' (yes, it's the lady that gets my name wrong), 'They've given me that commode and I don't want it. If they think I am going in there they've another thing coming, It'll stink my bedroom out. I have asked them to take it back, that was three weeks ago now and they still haven't picked it up, . Ridiculous isn't it. I have to shuffle round it when I am cleaning, I'm more likely to have another fall because it's in the way.



Knowing Rene as I do, a thought struck me that The council had probably tried to contact her by phone and not got through. The reason for this is because she waits to hear who is calling on the answer phone and then can't get up quick enough to answer it.
'Shall I give them a call'  I said.
'Oh! You are a dear. Yes please.'
So after about ten minutes on the phone I arrange for the commode to be picked up the next day at 4pm.

The second topic of interest is her bathroom.
'Do you know Andrew? The council have promised me a new wet room because I can't get my legs over the bath to have a shower. Come and have a look I'll show you what I mean'

At this point my heart is in my mouth because despite my protestations she will go into the bathroom to demonstrate how awkward it is, whilst teetering on the edge of the bath. I often have visions of filling in an accident form, with the first question being;- How did the accident happen?

'See!' she explains. ' I can get on the side like so and this is far as I can raise my leg. I could have an accident, and I have been waiting over a year now. 'It's not good enough is it?'

So again I rang The council to see what was happening. It materialised that because she owned her own house she needed to get quotes for the job and the council will pay for the cheapest quote. I suggested that she spoke to her son. Which she did and the wheels were in motion.

Moving on about another four weeks, Rene excitedly greets me at the door.

'Guess what, Andy? They are fitting my new shower next week'

'Oh that's fantastic news, I bet you're pleased'

'Well I would be if I could get them to deliver the commode they promised two weeks ago. I mean, what am I going to do about going to the toilet whilst they are working in there?