There is a fairly stereotypical view of the married person living with Dementia as having a devoted if stressed family carer But I think there are many people like myself who as well as being cared for, also have to be a carer too. Let me introduce my husband Paul. He has unstable type 1 diabetes, three blocked arteries leading to his heart, a pituatory tumour and an open ulcer on his shin that measures 8cm by 8cm and has to be dressed at least 4 times a week by our community nurses. He also has high functioning Aspergers. He smokes 60-80 cigarettes a day and I could not imagine being without him (mostly)
However today like so many days in the last six months he has
hicups. He has had them since he woke up at 5a.m. this morning, he had them most of yesterday, Monday he was free of them Sunday he had them all day. None of the traditional remedies work, apparently this is something that happens with both Diabetes and heart conditions. It absolutely exhausts him and I am in the position of many carers, looking on and knowing I can do nothing at all to help. Such a silly complaint to cause so much trouble.
Been to the hairdresser and have come home with short very curly hair – can’t show you a picture because I don’t know how to, but a very techy niece has promised to teach me.
Had our first Christmas card this morning. How dare you.
Somewhere in the depth of our cupboards are about 12 packs of Alzheimer’s Society Christmas cards that I bought in error last year. My biggest Dementia problem is that I can make no sense of numbers. I was lucky I din’t buy 120 packs too many. Now all I have to do is find them.
Revelling in happy memories today as my Grandson number 2. Ben, has a birthday today. I think he is 23, (see what I mean about numbers) but I have the clearest memories of the day he was born, and going up to Manchester to stay for the 10 days after he was born to look after Liz, my former daughter in law, and still beloved friend.
Fizzy Hammers 