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

Sunday, 18 December 2011


I've had to add Sunday as a separate day because the photo in the last post buggered up the formatting for some reason.

Today has been more of the same but with the added frisson of going for a nap and taking the bedside light into bed with her along with a glass of water which naturally tipped over and soaked lamp, Ma and duvet. Thank goodness she didn't electrocute herself, I feel sick at the thought of what could've happened. So that's her bedside water glass removed from now on.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of Dad's death and I'm already very tearful. Now that Ma has gone to bed I can cry openly without distressing her. She doesn't understand of course, she thinks he died years ago which is incredibly distressing in itself.

I'm so glad that H is coming tomorrow as it will give me something else to focus on during the day. By the time I've gone to fetch her from Manchester, braved Primark to pad out the inevitable one pair of pants and a T shirt which will be stuffed into her suitcase (alongside the Wii, her graphics tablet, her 3DS and all her pencils, polychromos and other sundry art materials - you know, all the important things) then manhandled the Christmas tree inside and decorated it and fed her a chicken dinner, I shall be tired and hopefully not too emotional. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't miss him dreadfully but I hope that now this year of firsts has passed I can start to remember him without so many tears.

Someone asked on a forum the other day what the highs and lows of the last year had been and to be truthful there haven't been many highs - the birth of my granddaughter, a week in the Lake District and seeing my children in the summer are the main things. The lows have been many, varied and at times very very deep. I hope next year will be much lighter all round.


  1. I wish I could say something worthwhile, but I can't. All I can say is, I think you are a wonderful person. I can't Imagin how hard it must be for you, day after day, it must be exhausting. I'd just like you to know I'm am thinking of you and I read your blog when ever I see it. Take care G x

  2. Bee, there is nothing I can say that will make you feel any better or make your day any easier. I know firsthand how hard caring can be, you know how horrible my year has been but I’ll keep you in my thoughts and prayers that you will find the strength to carry on. Here’s hoping that next year will be easier for you and your Ma. Try to get as much enjoyment out of the time you spend with H over the Christmas. Love and best wishes Tulip x

  3. George... I love that you are a Shakespeare nut and thank you for your kind words. (King Lear or Twelfth Night for me as it happens :) )

    Tulip - thank you and my love to you and yours for all the same reasons xx

  4. It was three years earlier this month since my Dad died - this is the first year I think I may begin to enjoy Christmas again, at least to some extent: though I still miss him terribly. I also look after my Mum who has some dementia, though she's not as far down that sad path as yours is. So I'm thinking of you, and wishing you all the very best.