My mother was diagnosed with vascular dementia in 2010. This is a blog about coming to terms with her absent mind.

Monday, 15 August 2011


Yesterday was a day of two halves. Afternoon visitng was fine, Ma was quite chirpy although still confused. She was delighted that the Vicar had called to see her the previous day but I'm not convinced that they'd been out for a drive and tea. She told me she hadn't been out of bed yet, then when Simon arrived after parking the car she told him she'd been up and down the ward and the staff said she was fantastic! It turns out that she had been out of bed and was doing really well. She still isn't really eating anything at all, half a bowl of soup and half a sandwich yesterday, so when I offered her a banana she could barely lift it she's so weak. Stern words about how they won't allow her home until she's eating and drinking properly fell on deaf ears due to her being far too interested in what's going on everywhere else. It was almost impossible to engage her interest due to her earwigging!

When I returned in the evening she was morose and tearful. Even more so when I had to tell her that no, I wasn't there to take her home. As I arrived she was halfway off the bed 'going to the loo', luckily a nurse was nearby and managed to stop her explaining that she still had a catheter. I dread to think what would've happened if she'd tried to get up without help.

She's now on a new ortho ward and seems to be in the company of four other ladies who are all in various stages of dementia. One is as garrulous as Ma but as neither listens to the other properly they aren't communicating so much as talking at the same time. One poor soul keeps calling 'Hello?' and asking where her husband is and another is permanently distressed because she believes she's going to die because she's in hospital. So not exactly a restful environment!

I took in some bits and bobs such as jelly pots and sandwiches she likes in the hope that it might tempt her to eat. It didn't. But the Nurses have stored everything in the fridge and will offer it to her if she refuses her meals.

I've also replaced her old heavy bedding at home with a lovely new pluffy duvet which should be much more comfortable (and probaby warmer!) for her.

Proper physio should start today so hopefully this will give us a better idea of what happens next. She may not be referred to rehabillitation due to her dementia. I'm told that this is partly because dementia patients tend to recover quite well due to the fact that when they are told to do an exercise it is usually done fully without hesitation because there's no expectation or recollection that it may hurt.


(Hello?? Hellloooo? Have you seen Keith?)

Ma: Hello? Are you all right? (to me) So am I ready?

Me: What for?

Ma: to go home.

(I'm going to die in here I know I am *keening*)

Ma: (laughs) Oh she's always saying that.

Me: Not today Ma, you need to see the physio first and get back on your feet


Ma: *getting upset* oh I'm useless. I've been here such a long time.

Me: But it's a serious injury, they need to be sure you are ok before sending you home


(This is my pink cushion, it came from Wales you know. My daughter lives in Wales)

Ma: (to pink cushion woman) My son is in Spain. He has a place.

Ma: (to me) She's goes on all the time you know. She knows it all.



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