Yesterday we made the decision (my Dad, my sister, brother and I) that we can no longer support my Mum to continue to live at home. It was/is a terrible thing to deal with, and I suspect it will be for a long time to come. We know the decision is right for her (and for us) but…

My Mum’s dementia, a major part of my Dad and sister’s lives for the past two years, just got the better of us. She’s in hospital after a marked change in her physical condition (my sister thought she’d had a stroke) but now the round of assessments will start. There’s a long way to go. Periods of almost lucidity mean that there are flashes of the woman she used to be, and we can have a conversation, albeit briefly.Then the constantly repeated questions start, the confusion about her parents, her siblings, where she lives, where she wants to go. Wherever she is, at some point in the day – or night – she will want go ‘home’ and get angrier, and more upset and agitated. Sometimes I’m June, sometimes Anne or Mary (my sister and aunt respectively). My brother John has become Steve (her brother – dead for many years). When we left the hospital yesterday she begged us to take her home, crying and childlike. Before her admission when she was at home, she begged my sister and Dad on a daily basis to take her home too. In her agitation she becomes abusive, strident and accusatory. Fortunately (how terrible to think of it as good fortune) her mobility is very poor or she would be off and wandering. We know the decision is right for her (and for us) but…

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