mistaken identity

Just recently we have had quite a few new people to look after. Most of them I only see once in a blue moon because I have my own regular ladies and gents to look after.
Yesterday my senior care worker rang up to ask if I could take on a few extra calls as someone had gone off sick. As she rattled off the names I visualised my route until the last one which was a lady called Janine.
'Janine?' I asked as I couldn't place the name
'Yes, you know the lady; never normally wants much so we sit and chat for ten minutes'
'Oh yes I know her' I replied cursing under my breath, as the lady lives on the other side of town to the others.
Having finished the first two calls, I made the fifteen minute journey across town muttering under my breath that there must have been another carer who was nearer to do the visit.
I enter the house to find the lady in her kitchen
'Hello I haven't seen you for a while' she said
'Hello Janine, How are you today/' I replied,
'Not too bad, I am a bit cold though.'
'Is the heating on'
'Oh expect my husband forgot this morning as he was in a hurry'
'Oh okay, I'll put it on then shall I'  whilst moving across to the thermostat. 'Have you had breakfast'
'No, not yet'
I dutifully make her breakfast with warm milk and check she has taken her meds before looking for the record of care book. It was not in it's usual place. so I asked Janine where it was.
'I am not sure, it might be in the book case'
'Nope that's the people who do your housework'
'I don't know then
I spent about five minutes looking for the book and eventually gave up, deciding to leave a note for her husband on a scrap piece of paper. On the kitchen table was a note pad and as I picked it up I noticed someone had written 'Care cancelled from the 12th'
Today was the 17th.
'Your name is Janine isn't it'
'No Jean'
'Sorry, I am not supposed to be here'
'Oh well never mind dear, It was nice to see you'
A quick call to my senior and I established that Janine lived five minutes away from where I was about half an hour previously.

The Chair Lift

Chair lifts are an important aid for many people to stay in their homes when their mobility slows them down. There are several kinds of chair lifts; from the straight up and down, to the ones that go round corners and then there's type that John has, that have a track that folds up when it is not in use because the chair lift comes down across the front door blocking the exit.


On this particular day I decided to get to John early because I had a few extra calls on my round that I had never been to before and was not sure what they would entail. John is a bit of an enigma, sometimes you go in and you are out in ten minutes and other days you can be in with him for an hour, which makes planning your day a bit tricky and was another reason for getting there early.
  As I walk in I see that John is up and about already, this is good news as it means I have not got ten minutes of coaxing him out of bed and then waiting for him find his balance before attempting to go upstairs for his wash.
'Morning John.' I enquire whilst prompting his medication. 'How are you today?'
'Not so mucking fusty' came the usual response.
'I'll just bring the chair lift down and then we can go upstairs for your wash'
'Ok Boss'
I lowered the track in front of the front door before walking upstairs to sit on the chair to bring it down. I know you can do all this from a remote downstairs but I quite enjoy the ride. At least I did until I got three feet from the end and the thing came to a dead halt with all the lights going off. After fiddling around with various switches I came to the conclusion that it was in need of professional help.
I  fetch a bowl to fill with hot water and wash John in the lounge before getting him dressed. As I was making a cup of tea to go with his breakfast I glanced at the clock 'Oh good, despite all this kerfuffle, it has still only taken half an hour.'
'Right John, I have sent a message to you daughter explaining about the chair. As I obviously can't use the front door, I will go out the back way, do you know where the key is?
'Should be in the door'
'It's not there'
'Oooh! I haven't seen it since I came out of hospital'!'
'Have you got any ideas?'
'Might be in my coat'
'Where's that'
'Ooooh I haven't seen it since I came out of hospital'
So off I go in search of the coat as the realisation that all the downstairs exits are patio doors hits me; I could be spending the morning trapped in the house waiting for a repair man. I eventually find a coat under a pile of clothes but no key!!!
'It's not there'
'Not that one the green one'
Off I go again aware that time is slipping away rapidly. I find the green coat in the bedroom, but still no key
'I tell you what, it might be in that drawer over there marked keys' says John as he picks up his breakfast bowl and slowly heads to the sink to wash up; seemingly totally oblivious to my increasing anguish
Great, I've found it, but in my haste to open the door, I pull the blind down blind on top of me.
'It does that now and again' says John
Frustration is building inside me now as I fumble, all fingers and thumbs, to put the blind back up and rush to the back gate which, you guessed it, won't open.
'The gate won't open John'
'Ah! You'll need a screw driver as I screw it shut against the post.'
'Ok, so where's your screw driver?'
'Ooooh I haven't seen that since I came out of hospital...........'


Three quarters of an hour later I made it to my next call

A day in the life the ups, the downs

Having started at 7.30 a.m., I finished my morning calls slightly earlier than expected. so whilst examining my evening rota, I settled down with a cup of well earned tea .
'Good' I thought 'Not many calls tonight, so it should be a nice steady evening. Time to reward myself with a long soak in the bath along with a good book before going out again'
Ten minutes into my wallow, I can hear my phone ringing. I drag myself downstairs dripping wet to find a voice mail asking if I could take on some more calls tonight. Bang goes my bath, as I now need to get dressed and set off an hour earlier than expected. Like NOW!
Strangely enough  though, things were going really smoothly, I even had time to stop off at home half way round for a cup of tea .
I'm in a really mellow mood as I go from house to house, still gaining time as I go. I decide to spend a bit more time with a couple of my ladies; one asking me to sing to her and another sitting on the side of her bed showing me old photos and letters from her family. There was one letter from her father to her mother describing, in true Enid Blyton style, the joy of looking after his new born child. The child being the 90 year old lady sitting beside me on the bed. I leave the second lady content that I have had a worthwhile day and what is more, I am still on track to finish at 9.30pm


I have two calls to go when I enter Phyllis' house to find her in bed. She has dementia and like most dementia patients has good and bad days. She is also profoundly deaf which can also make life very difficult at times.


The fact she has made her own way to bed means it is a good day, or is it? , She has managed to use the commode, this means that her pad is no longer on when she has gone to bed, so the bed is wet. She is still wearing her clothes so they are also wet.
This was going to take longer than the half an hour I had planned. I sighed inwardly as I set about my task and whilst emptying the commode I catch sight of a pile of faeces on the bedside cabinet that she has removed from her pad. I quickly put them in the commode before cleaning it out, rolled her back and forth to change the bed sheets, cleaned her bottom up; washed her hands; put a clean pad on along with fresh pyjamas; all done with the aid of sign language. I finally tidied up the lounge, put her soiled clothes in the wash before going back into the bedroom to say goodnight. As I lent forward to kiss her forehead she jumped because she had not seen or heard me return. We both laughed before she tenderly grabbed my face with both hands, lent forward and kissed me gently on the lips. She has never done this before. Perhaps it was an apology for the mess, but it felt more than that. It was a beautiful moment I would cherish for a long time and made my day. Bless you Phyllis
I have to admit though, I did have one overwhelming thought at the time she was holding my face. 'Thank God I'd washed her hands!'

Groundhog day

Dementia particularly Alzheimers is a terrible illness, it effects the whole family and everyone surrounding the person who develops it. As a carer we can be a bit of light relief for spouses and family. A break in the routine, a change of conversation, a breath of normality breezing in and out. I look after one lady who has recently been diagnosed with Alzheimers who currently lives on her own. She is in her fifties folks so don't think it just effects the pensioners.


Because she forgets whether she has eaten we go in to cook a meal and encourage her to make a cup of tea.


The other day whilst serving shepherd's pie I commented 'Poor old shepherds, there used to be loads of them before they started on these pies, now they are a dying race, a rare breed. Do you know there are only a few of them left now hiding out in the hillside in fear for their lives. They estimate that one shepherd can fill up to twenty pies, but the way it is going there won't be any left soon.


The lady giggled at my childlike humour so I continued.


It's not just the shepherds though I have heard the fisherman are under threat too. I'll tell you something for nothing if they start making a Carer's pie I'm off!.


 I left the left with tears in her eyes chuckling at the thought.


Today I entered her house and started to cook shepherd's pie and she turned to me and said 'Poor old shepherds . they're a dying race you know............


I have a feeling this could go be an on going saga

My favourite shower days again

The latest antics with my special needs man. If you remember for some reason he always wears a shower hat before getting in the shower, despite the fact that I am going to wash his hair. As I have said I always put it on before and sing 'Where did you get that hat?'
Well his mother has bought one for me. It is white with black spots and has a bow at the back. I look a bit like Cruella Deville dutifully wearing it and causing great joviality in the shower. Now the song is 'Where did we get those hats'
New songs have been added like 'feeling Hot Hot hot' except I say it's 'not too Hot Hot Hot' when I start to wash his hair. As it goes on I sing the 'feel it in the morning, feel it in the evening' with him coming in with the Hot Hot Hots. Recently I added 'Feel it on your fingers' and 'feel it on your crown jewels' which had him in stitches.




Today, after I finished the call and had my little chat with his mum over a cup coffee,  I bade farewell and made way to the car. Just as was about to get in the car the lady who cleans was pulling up.


'Morning Tania' I shout out.
Morning Ian, you might want to take that hat off before you go any further, I don't think we are expecting any rain.'

lost keys

One of my regular chores in life as a care worker and at home is looking for keys. I am useless at finding my own ones let alone all my ladies and gents. I have a few dementia people who can be quite imaginative with their secret stashes. under mattresses; in the fridge; in the bread bin etc.

One of my recent challenges was with Sheila who suffers from a really short span of attention.  It was the day of a neighbour's funeral and for her it was an occasion that dominated her mind. It was a change from the norm and in a strange way was something to look forward to; a chance to get away from her four walls and get out. I arrived at 0845 to find her already dressed  in her outfit, front door wide open with her pacing up and down looking out for her lift. As the funeral was not for another two hours I coaxed her back inside to take her medication and check she had eaten.
Just as I was about to leave she announced that her keys were missing and went into panic mode. Whilst  trying to calm her down we started the search in all the usual places; in her pockets; under her pillows; down the side of the settee. All to no avail. She went to see if her neighbour had a key, but still no luck as she had gone out. I was just about to give up after ten minutes when I found them in the soap dish of the shower cubicle.  Now running late and aware that I should already be at the next call I put her keys in her bag and placed it on the table suggesting that she calm down.
As I bade my farewell and crossed the road to my car I heard a door slam behind me and there was sheila coming down the path. My heart sank.
'Have you got your keys Sheila?'
The look on her face gave me the answer
I climbed over the fence to get round to back of the house to find that door also locked. The only entrance was a small kitchen window, so with the aid of a large plant pot I climbed up to open it fully, thus allowing me to reach in to open a larger window which was just big enough for me to squeeze through, clamber over the sink before eventually letting Sheila back in. I sat her down, put the television on and suggested she watched it until someone knocked on the door.
I got to my next call 30 minutes late

unexpected smile

On my way into Jean's I passed a Relative on the way out. Jean does not have many visitors so it was nice to see a smiling face as a entered the house. She can normally be quite agitated spending her  time alone, clock watching and waiting for the Carers to arrive, but with the unexpected distraction she was full of the joys of spring.


We started our routine of getting her ready for bed and as I was about to administer the medication I looked over at her bedside table and noticed that her friend had kindly made some blackcurrant juice, As I picked up the glass I could even hear some ice chinking in the bottom; a nice touch, I thought, on this hot day. It is sometimes difficult to get Jean to take medication with plain water so I offered her the glass. She dutifully took all three tablets with a large gulp of juice, before handing it back half full as she didn't want the rest. I tucked her up in bed and picked up the glass to wash up on my departure; as I tipped the liquid away I realised with horror that it was not ice chinking around in the bottom of the glass.....
                                          ....... but there in the bottom of the sink were her dentures smiling up at me.

The daily routine

During my short time as a care worker I have discovered that routine is probably one of the most important things for my ladies and gents. They like to know who is coming and at what time, then more importantly, what we are doing in what order when we arrive. If I have a new carer going in to see one of my people I will always make a point of running through the order that I do things; Not only does this help the person we are caring for but also helps us as carers complete the call within the time allowed. People with dementia obviously need this routine more than anyone else but It was not until recently that I realised how much the things we say can also become part of that routine.






I have been looking after Brian for about six weeks now and quickly got him into a routine. As he sits on the chair of the stair lift I say (as I do with a lot of people) 'first floor ladies lingerie,' to which he will always chuckle and reminisce about the TV programme 'Are you being served'. Then when we get to the shower I  regale him with a verse of singing in the rain. which he dutifully joins in with; He has a little green pouch with his money in, so a burst of The Robin Hood theme has to be sung as I put it on the bedside cabinet for him, and so on.






The other night I went in and Brian had got very distressed about a family matter and his wife was almost at the end of her tether trying to calm him down. As with a lot of dementia patients he had become fixated on the problem and would not let it go despite several reassurances. It is in these circumstances that staying calm when all round you are not is the best policy. A change of subject was needed but I was not sure how, so I decided to just start getting him ready for bed, I coaxed Brian out of his chair and helped him as he unsteadily made his way to the chair lift. He was extremely confused and barely seemed to know what was going on.


As he sat in the chair of the stair lift I chipped in with my usual line 'First floor; Ladies lingerie'


Almost immediately, I could see the tension leaving his face as he looked up and chuckled 'Oh! It's you.' He then leant forward and gave me a hug.






It was one of those special moments that makes being a care worker worth while.




It also occurred to me, that my little one liners and songs are what identifies me to a lot of people with dementia,  His short term memory did not pick up on my face but my daily routine performance.

hallucinations

I was visiting Jean, my lonely lady who lives alone in a remote village. If you remember she is the one who always looks for any excuse to keep you longer than necessary and spends her day watching the clock for when the next carer arrives. In recent months I have been doing her late call and have spent a bit of time each evening talking about her past. She has some lovely stories about her escapades during the war.




Tonight I noticed a piece of cotton wool taped to her arm and asked what it was
'I have had a blood test because the doctor thought I had a urine infection but wants to check out some other avenues' she replied candidly
'So it's not a urine infection then' I enquired.
'No, bloody doctors blame everything on urine infections' she retorted
'Well it can be quite nasty,'I explained 'I've had lots of ladies and gents who have had them and they can cause hallucinations.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, most of them believe they can see people in the corners of the room and they start talking to them'
'I talk to my departed husband every morning; I tell him he has to go before you lot arrive'
'That's different, lots of people do that. In these cases they hear them talking and even hold conversations. They really believe the person is in the room.'
'Oh really! Just from something as simple as a urine infection?'
'Yes!'
'Incredible! she chuckled 'How do I go about getting one of these urine infections? I could do with some company'

Mistaken Identity

Phylis lives all by herself rattling round in a huge house in the middle of nowhere. Because she has dementia, she gets very confused about what time of day it is and what we are coming in to do. I know that she particularly looks forward to my visits so I always try to stay patient with her as she repeats herself relentlessly throughout the call.  It's quite sad that all she really looks forward to in life is our four visits a day. As I leave she always wants to know how long she has to wait for the next carer to call and who it might be?

I had not seen her for about a week and was asked to go out to her at the last minute today because someone phoned in sick. As I enter the I hear her call from her sitting room.






'Hello, Who is it?
'It's Only Ian, Phylis'
'Oh Hello Ian. What have you come to do?'
'Well shall we go to the bathroom and get you washed, dressed and changed into some clean clothes'
'I hope you are a bit more 'with it' than last night'
'What do you mean?'
'Well you didn't seem to know what you were doing last night'
'I wasn't here Phylis'
'Yes you were, it took four attempts to get my pad on and you didn't even remember where the key was to lock up!'
'Definitely not me, I wasn't even working'
'I am sure he said his name was Ian'

'Then the penny dropped that we have another new carer called Ian working for us'

'Oh you mean Big Ian' I explained
'Why do you call him Big Ian?' she asked
'Because he is six foot five and I am five foot four'
'Oh that explains it, he does look like you though!

An hour later I happened to be speaking to BIG Ian to clarify a few things about some calls he was making that evening. I asked him how he got on with Phylis and he started laughing, it turned out that he had tried to put a new pad on with out taking the old one off and got in a right old pickle. I told him not to worry I have done similar things myself because you lose track with her continual bombardment of questions. He finished the story off by proudly repeating her passing words

'Thank you Ian you always make me laugh and I will always think of you as my friend'

I didn't have the heart to tell him that she thought she was talking to me.

The Bed Linen

A few of my calls as a care worker involve housework visits which involve anything from shopping to general housework duties. One chap I visit called Jack who is quite a petite gentle man, who I will usually find sitting quietly in his armchair staring at the walls. He has dementia but is generally ok providing his routine isn't disrupted; then you will see him pacing back and forth worrying over the smallest of things. One particular thing that sets him off and gets him very agitated is when I change his bed linen.
'Leave it 'til next week' he will say, 'I  don't want my daughter to be washing every week'
So as a compromise I started doing it every other week, even though this was still too often in his opinion.







After a month or so I got call from the office saying that his daughter had phoned to complain that I was not doing the sheets every week. I see this lady quite often and get on quite well with her, so next time we met I apologised and explained the reason why.

'I see what you are saying' she said 'but I still would like it done every week if possible.'
Then a thought struck me, 'How about if you buy two identical duvet sets and while he is in the shower I will quickly change them and put them in the laundry basket. As you do the washing anyway you can pick it up on the way out and he need never know'
'That is brilliant' she said 'I'll get some today'

So our plan was put into action with two new two tone blue duvet sets; all was going well until after a couple of months I walked in to find Jack pacing up and down.
'Are you ok Jack?'
'No! I am a bit annoyed with you!'
'Oh why is that?' I asked
'Well I have been thinking and I know I told you not to do the bed sheets every week, but I reckon you haven't done them for about 8 weeks. I have looked in the record of care book and you have been writing down that you do them every week!!!!!'

The dilemma

James suffers from dementia; he is a busy little man who is always on the go, in fact he never sits down.
Just recently he had a fall and I called an ambulance to have him checked out. Having come back from hospital I was surprised to find that he had no medication, and when I asked he told me they had not given him any. He was obviously had a lot of pain in his back and could not even get out of the chair.
As the week passed by he was getting worse, so the son started giving him Paracetamol to ease the pain and after a week we called the doctor out again, asking why he had not been prescribed any drugs. It turned out that James had torn up the prescription because he wasn't going to poison his body.
So now we have some stronger pain killers and he is on the mend.


Or is he?

 Whilst he was not on medication he stayed put in his chair, resting; but now he is on medication he feels better and is on the move again. Because of his dementia he does not understand that the medication is improving his injury, and he still needs to rest. The pain goes away and he forgets he has any injury all together.

So I go round one day and find him vacuuming the floor and enter the next day to find him lying on the settee in agony

Part of me thinks
he may have got better quicker without the tablets

When Carers can be a hindrance

Dennis is a quiet, almost reclusive chap who lives on his own and suffers with dementia. Of late he has gotten worse due to circumstances that have upset his daily routine. Invariably I walk in to find him just sitting there staring at the walls in silence, waiting for the warden or me to make our daily calls. Conversation can be quite hard, he often gives one word answers, not because he is being rude but because he can't think of any way to elaborate. As a consequence, I know that a lot of carers go in, do their tasks and leave.





Just recently I asked him why he does not go out more, and was surprised to hear that he was in fact sitting in waiting for the warden and me to arrive.

'It's rude to go out when you know someone is coming to visit'

So in fact along with his meals on wheels, our visits had become his life. He was even sitting in waiting for the 'check' call over the tannoy system

This was obviously unacceptable, so I suggested to Dennis that he at least go to  'The Coffee Morning'* on Wednesdays and I will make my visit later on that day.

The following Wednesday I arrived just after he had got home and the difference in him was remarkable; He was smiling, talkative and more alive than I have ever known since visiting him.

It's an interesting thought that Carers are supposed to improve quality of life, but in this case we had become a hindrance.

Since that day I have spoken to the family and suggested  '**Singing for the brain', which he now attends on Thursdays.


* Quote from a lady 'why do they call them coffee mornings, when we all drink tea?'
** http://www.alzheimers.org.uk/site/scripts/documents_info.php?documentID=760

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'

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?

Two sugars

Whilst visiting a gentleman for the first time I politely asked if he would like a cup of tea

'Oh yes please, that would be nice'

'Would you like milk and sugar?'

'Yes please.'

'where do you keep the sugar?

'Erm. is it not in the cupboard?

'No'

'Oh, that's strange!'


and so the search for the sugar began in earnest. I pulled everything out of the cupboard where I found the tea, while he went into the larder, muttering to himself about where he could have put it.
Five minutes later he triumphantly appears with the sugar pot.

'Oh good how many do you have' I asked

'Just the two'

I sat down for a chat with him whilst he drank his drink and suggested that I put the sugar with the tea so that we know where it is in future.

'That will be a good idea, Thank you'

Three days later I return to the same gentleman.

'Cup of tea?'

'Yes please'

It's two sugars isn't it?

'Oh no I don't take sugar, haven't done for years'

The last hoorah for Artie

I feel I cannot finish on a low note with Arty
One day whilst visiting Artie got onto one of his repetitious loops which on this occasion was toast.
I had finished all my jobs and was sitting down whilst having a chat and filling in my daily report.
'Would you like some toast?' says Artie
'No thank you' I said and carried on my conversation with his wife.
A few moments later he asked again. 'I say would you like some of my toast?'
'It's alright Artie, I've had breakfast Thanks'
Again I continued with my chat to his wife
'Are you sure you wouldn't like some toast, it's very nice'
'I am sure it is Artie, but you have it'
This continued for some time until eventually it all went quiet. 'Oh good!' I thought 'he's forgotten all about it'.
As I started to walk to the door he piped up
'Excuse me what's your name, I seem to have forgotten?'
This in itself is not unusual so I reply
'My name is Ian'
'Ian?'
'That's right'
'How do yoy spell that/'
'I A N'
'I A N'
That's right'

'Oh well Ian, would you like some toast?'

We'll meet again.

Today was a day of mixed emotions; Artie has got a place in a local care home and this was my last day of  getting him dressed and ready for the day. Although he has dementia and does not seem to know what is going on from one moment to the next, I felt that somehow he knew something was going on. For the first time since I have been looking after him he showed a bit of defiance at being washed and dressed. 'Why do I need someone to dress me? I am quite capable of doing it myself thank you'
I decided not to argue but started walking up the stairs singing 'Here we are again happy as can be, all good friends and jolly good company'
He immediately joined in with the song and followed me up the stairs. Although we went through our repetoire of songs, it was sombre bathroom today despite all my best efforts to be cheerful there always seemed to be a sad undertone.
Having finally finished, his wife emotionally thanked me for all me help and gave me a hug before I went in and shook Artie's hand for the last time. I never mentioned that this was the last time I would see him in the mornings, but as always he smiled and thanked me for my all my help; This seemed a touch more poigniant than on other days and I had to get hold my emotions before I replied.
'You'r'e welcome Sir, it is always a pleasure .' ....... Which it was!

I hope he settles in to his new place and his wife can now begin to rebuild her life.

 I am about to compile a list of his favourite songs to give to his new carer at the home, along with a cd for him to play. (hoping he will have a cd player)
I have promised to pop into see him from time to time and hopefully have a little sing song for old times sake.

The link below is our favourite
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2WHd6qJn4c

The Little Pink Pill

Dementia can manifest itself in many ways; there is the obvious one where people can’t remember what they did yesterday; then the ones who revert back to a happy place in their past; some people get panic stricken when confronted with anything new and then there are those who get fixated on the smallest of things and won‘t let them go.
Jean is one of those ladies. She is a sweet lady who lives all on her own in a large house in a remote village’ The only company she gets is from the carers and Meals on wheels, consequently she sits and watches the clock from one visit to the next; because of this it is often very difficult to leave at the end of the call, She will always try to find something to keep you there another five minutes and plead with you to stay.

As a rule, I have gentleman I visit before her that doesn’t really need much care other than to make a sandwich with a cup of tea and definitely does not want to be bothered with any idle chit chat, in fact he barely acknowledges your presence, so I usually finish with him early and spend a bit more time with Jean.

Jean’s fixation is her pills; from the moment I arrive I am harassed about her tablets and she physically shakes as she tells me that she needs them because they stop her shaking. She is right though because within a few seconds of taking the said tablets, the shaking stops; all psychological of course.
However that is not the end of the matter, from then on I get asked ‘ Have I taken my pills? Where are my night pills? What time is someone coming into do my morning pills? This will carry on throughout the thirty to forty minute call. The odd thing is her memory is not bad at all, she can talk about any subject you choose with absolute clarity, knows what happened yesterday and recalls telephone numbers for old friends without looking them up.

Recently I got a call from one of her other carers warning me that there is an extra pill to give Jean from now on, morning and night. So the next evening I enter jean's house and am immediately told about the little pink pill.

‘It’s alright Jean I know’

‘Oh good’

I put the pills in front of her and watch her swallow them with her jelly’

‘How many pills are in here?’

‘Three’

‘Including the little pink pill?’

‘Yes Jean’

‘Oh Good’

Five minutes later

‘Have I taken my pills?’

‘Yes Jean’

‘And the little pink one?’

‘Yes Jean’

‘What about in the morning?’

‘All the carers know about the new medication’

‘Oh Good’

Five minutes later

‘Did I take the little pink pill?’

‘Yes Jean’

And so on…….

After about the fourth time of going through this routine I ask

‘What is the little pink pill for anyway Jean?’

‘It’s supposed to stop me worrying’

‘I don’t think it’s working, do you Jean?’

‘No! I don’t think it is Dear’