Dr Jekyll & Mrs Hyde

I have pangs of conscience writing about my Alzheimer's suffering mother-in-law on this blog but it's supposed to be a retirement blog and it's something that looms very large in our retirement at the moment and I'm sure that it will loom large in other retiree's lives.  I'm not going to damage her dignity with a photo this time as she isn't looking her best having been (as I wrote earlier in the week) rushed into hospital in the early hours of Sunday . I can't praise Ward 11b in Southport hospital enough for the way that they looked after Flo for the four nights of her stay. She was given constant attention and kept comfortable throughout.


She's back at her care home now and on medication to help with a chest infection (possibly pneumonia) that resulted in an irregular heartbeat and breathlessness. Her colour has returned and her breathing is back to normal; the problem lies in her mental state. Whenever we visited the hospital we could hear Flo (she has a loud and distinctive London accent) long before we reached the ward entrance. Invariably she was laughing and in good spirits. The second that Marion and I were in view this changed and she would slump onto the bed crying and claiming a myriad of aches and pains - perhaps we just have this effect on some people. So our visits would pass with Flo in abject misery for the full hour and us lost for anything positive to say. The ward staff expressed surprise at the changes that came over her and they told us that she had been walking around freely for hours on end. When we came to collect her at four p.m yesterday she insisted that she couldn't walk and we had to get a wheelchair. In the past she has always been good on her feet.


This Jekyll and Hyde behavior continued as we left the ward - big smiles and huge hugs and kisses for the nursing staff together with 'You take care' at the top of her voice - followed by a constant litany of complaints en route to the car, during the drive and again when we walked her back to her room. On arrival in the room a carer welcomed her and the mask was switched again to huge hugs, laughter and smiles only to disappear the second that the carer left and the miserable mask returned.


I know that Alzheimer's is a terrible disease and it must be horrendous for Flo and every one else who suffers from it but there is certainly still something there in her brain that allows these huge changes in mood between the one that we get and the one that's on show to others. Perhaps the bad mood is the real Flo and she feels comfortable enough with us to show her true colours or perhaps we are being punished and seen as responsible for confining her to a home after other family members told her she would never be put in one. Whichever it is, it's extremely dispiriting as our frequent visits are tinged with a foreboding gloom that is difficult to feel positive about.

We do feel positive however about this evening when our friends Mark and Nita Jones from Workhouse Marketing in Ribchester are visiting and we're off to The Vincent in Southport for a bite to eat. That's the place where Wayne Rooney's meal at Christmas ended up costing him £250k. I hope it's a bit cheaper for us. Mark and Nita have cause to celebrate as their son Tom's The Whalley Wine Shop won the prestigious Independent Drinks Retailer Of The Year at the Off Licence News awards in London earlier this week - and well deserved it was too. It's a super little shop with a wonderful selection of fine wines, beers and spirits coupled with excellent advice and great service.


I'm busy preparing a talk on metal detecting for a local history society in the Yorkshire Dales on Wednesday. I hope that the snow holds off. One of the themes of my talk is how the public sees detector users and I think this advert just about sums it up.

The Circle Of Life

'I'd like a cup of tea'


'I don't think we're going to find one now Mum. It's four o'clock on a Thursday evening, I think the cafe will be shut.'


'But I want a cup of tea' 


'I know you want a cup of tea but the cafe will be shut now and it's half a mile to somewhere we could get one and I don't think your legs will be up to it.'

I'm taking Flo out for a walk. When I went to visit her she was very agitated and said that she never goes anywhere so I suggested that we stroll down to the newsagents and back which is about as far as she's capable of walking. Our conversation felt like one between a parent and a child - although I have to say that our children were never as persistent as this.


'Why can't I have a cup of tea?'


'Because we can't walk all that way.'


'I want a cup of tea.'


'I'm really sorry but you aren't going to be able to have one until you get back to the rest home.'


'But I want one.'


This continues for five minutes or more and by now I'm desperate to change the subject. 


'Well I'm really really sorry. Next time we'll go in the car.'


'I want a cup of tea. My nose is running. Have you got a hankie?'


My mistake. I've forgotten one but at least the conversation has changed.


'I want a hankie.'


'I know. I'm really sorry. It's my fault but I forgot to bring one.'


'But I need one. I'm sniffing. I want a hankie.'


And so things continue. 


It was a parent/child conversation (at least in terms of the generation gap) but the roles had become completely reversed and reminded me of how Shakespeare described old age so perfectly as  "second childishness and mere oblivion." 


It's very strange to experience this stage of Alzheimer's. Flo can be almost normal one day and on others she can be depressed, angry and agitated. A major problem lies in her being completely aware of what is happening to her and her anger at the inability of the doctors or anyone else to do anything to stop it. I wouldn't wish it on anybody.

The Phone That Will Only Dial My Mother

So we're back from visiting the Scotish arm of the family and we head straight to the care home to check on Flo.

She's glad to see us back as she's had real problems with her telephone while we've been away.

'So what's the problem with it?' I ask.

'I dunno. It will only phone your mum. It keeps phoning your mum.'

Marion checks the phone out and it looks perfectly fine. To prove the point she takes out her mobile and dials Flo's number.

I answer and show Flo that it's all working okay.

We get home and a couple of hours later we're watching the telly. Marion's phone rings. "MUM" flashes on the screen. I answer.

'Hi Mum.'

'Who's that?'

'Its me. John. You dialled Marion's phone.'

'Oh. I didn't know who it was. I checked for phone calls and this was the last one.'

'Yes, remember when we came round and Marion phoned your phone to check it for you'

'No' and then a few seconds later. 'Yes'

'So it's Marion's phone. Nobody else has phoned you.'

'So that's okay then?'

'Yes that's okay.'

She rings off and we switch the tv back on (thank God for Skyplus and the pause button.)

Two hours later  Marion's phone rings. "MUM" flashes on the screen.

'Hi Mum'

'Who's that?'

'It's me. John'

'Oh John. Why am I phoning you?'

'I don't know.'

'It's this blinking phone. It was phoning your mum and now it keeps phoning you.'

'Are you sure?'

'Well I just came back to the room and checked the phone and this number had phoned'

'Yes it's Marion's phone. Remember when we visited you this afternoon and she phoned to check your phone was working okay.'

'Sorry. I phoned before didn't I'

'Yes. Don't worry'

So the phone that keeps phoning my mother is now the phone that keeps dialling Marion. Well at least it was until somebody else must have phoned Flo up and taken over the reins.

On a positive note, the medication that the consultant prescribed for Flo seems to be having a beneficial effect and she is not as panicky as she was before. Had this phone incident happened a couple of weeks ago she would have been extremely agitated and insisted that we drop everything and come round to check the phone immediately. She also seems to be more relaxed when we visit so, whilst it will never be pleasant seeing Alzheimer's run its course, at the moment it is a little less unpleasant.

Our granddaughter Rose certainly brightened the holiday season up for us. Father Christmas was extremely generous and she has enough stuff to keep her occupied until next year. Toys have changed so much since our children were babies but the simple things like a teddy and a rubber giraffe that squeaks are still enough to keep her amused. I had a wonderful couple of hours taking her for a walk in her pram. We had a great chat while I put the world to rights and she listened attentively and threw in a few raspberries and gurgles at appropriate points. When you are with a grandchild of this age it is extremely hard not to wonder what lies ahead for her and, without being too maudlin, how much of it you will see: first school, secondary school, exams. university, marriage, children. I hope to be around for as much of it as I can.

Sarah and Duncan prepared a fabulous late Christmas lunch for us on Saturday. Duncan poured us an aperitif and we were just about to sit down when his pager went off. He's a volunteer coastguard and, after a quick call to his base, he had to leave and unfortunately we had to eat without him. When he got back we had almost finished but he joined us at the table and told us the reason for his call out. It seems that somebody got a new metal detector for Christmas and managed to dig up some unexploded ordnance on the beach near Tentsmuir Forest - bloody metal detectorists eh!

We're off to the cinema now. Our first film of 2012 is The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. I'll let you know what we think. In the meantime there's a very funny review of it over on meandmybigmouth's blog

We didn't watch much telly over Christmas but for me the highlight was a repeat of last year's highlight.

Living With Alzheimer's

Apologies if it isn't exactly the most cheerful subject for today's blog but we took Marion's mum Flo to the local NHS memory clinic today to hear the verdict on the comprehensive tests that she has undergone recently. She's had a brain scan, blood tests and has answered a nurse's extremely thorough questionnaire. Although the nurse had already told us her opinion - she stressed that she is not qualified to diagnose - we had to wait for the consultant to break the news. An extremely kind, friendly and patient consultant (call me Derek) spoke to Flo for almost an hour and told her that her brain scan shows that her brain is atrophying and she has a mixture of mostly Alzheimer's and a little dementia related to blood flow in the brain. Fortunately, Derek speaks with a very strong accent and Alzheimer's sounded like Alzharmers and the diagnosis didn't sink in with Flo. And I honestly think that that was no bad thing as she now thinks that her brain is shrinking a little and the pills that he prescribed for her will help. "I'm going to have my brain sorted" she says. In reality Derek put great emphasis on the fact that things will only get worse but the drugs may help her to calm down.


It's now a matter of trying to make her as happy as we can as this ghastly affliction runs its course over the next few years. It has seemed a very rapid decline over the last couple of months and it is hard to believe that just five weeks ago she was (albeit with a great deal of difficulty) living on her own in her own flat. We put her flat for sale as she will eventually need the proceeds to pay for her care but the estate agent is not exactly enthusiastic about the chances of a quick sale despite it being put on the market at just a fraction above the price she paid for it in 1996 and the fact that it is in immaculate decorative order. We'll just have to keep our fingers crossed for her.


Marion was struck down by a mystery bug yesterday. I had a horrible feeling that it was the curry that I made on Saturday night from the leftover turkey we had in the freezer but I ate more than she did and was perfectly well. She had a crippling headache, shivering and stomach cramp and stayed in bed for the whole day and that's something I can't remember her doing since she had pneumonia in 1985. I'm happy to say that she's a lot better today and has managed to eat a poached egg and a bit of toast. I hope that the trip to the memory clinic didn't take too much out of her.

On a more positive note I found a £10 book token today. It was in a card that my mum sent me absolutely ages ago and I somehow didn't spend it. I'm trying to support our local bookshop so went in and treated myself to "I Partridge" the autobiography of the great man himself. Mind you, it's little wonder that local bookshops are struggling. Although the fixed price agreement no longer exists the shop sold it at full list price (£20) whereas I could have popped into Tesco and bought it for just over a tenner. It's a wonderful bookshop and I don't begrudge them a penny but how can any small retailer survive with competition like this? I just dipped into the book; can't wait to read chapters like "My Drink And Drugs Heck".