Memory for two

 I thought it might worth having a think about our feelings when it comes to considering that huge next step. For me the most daunting thing of all was how I was going to feel about it all.  The last few years have been so awful I didn't thing I could cope with any more overwhelming emotion so if I could keep us on track with the way things were then that might be the best option. People told me that it would be the worst day of my life, that I would cry and cry and that there would be feelings of guilt beyond what I could possibly imagine.  Never mind how awful it was going to be for Ash to think he was no longer wanted, how on earth was I going to survive all of that? What I hadn't taken into account is that we're all different and, mainly because every case of dementia is different to the next, our feelings and experiences are different too.  I also wonder whether some of us don't like to admit that we're not devastated when it happens and that life is suddenly s

 I had so many lovely messages after yesterday's post that I'm determined to get back to where I was with daily posts.  Who knows whether I'll manage it or not but for the moment my brain is working and I still have stuff to share so let's just go with that for now. Two of the comments that came up again and again from those emails were to the effect 'we're nearly at that point so this is useful' and 'we're not there yet but I want to be prepared' so I thought I might share with you how we got to this point, how quickly we arrived and what prompted that momentous decision. I say momentous because it really is.  It's an admission that you can't cope any longer, that you're not the best person for the job and that right now you're life is about to change beyond recognition. So the first question I think is 'how do you know this is the right time?'.  In my naivety I'd drawn red lines; 'if this happens I'll know

 Second visit today and I'd say it was even better than last week's.   There are lots of things about the home that I love; it's always calm and peaceful, the staff seem to know Ash well already, he's relaxed when I leave him; all good things but one thing I hadn't realised was how perfect its position is.  It's within easy walking distance of town which is great while it's cold and it's also right on the edge of the local country park which will be perfect for a walk when the weather gets warmer. This time we walked into town, had a cup of tea and something to eat then a wander around the shops.  Ash had commented on the way in on the fact that his head was cold so we found a hat in one of the shops then went back the way we'd come, once again commenting on all the big houses we passed. So today's visit was lovely and at the end of it I remembered my lesson from last week, handing him over to the carer before leaving immediately.  Best of all, I

 We had confirmation a couple of days ago that Ash can stay in the care home which suits him so well and I finally feel I can relax and start to reclaim my life. It will be a very different life in just about all respects but current evidence suggests it's going to be ok and, even, better than ok. I went to see Ash for the first time a week ago (2nd visit planned for tomorrow) and it was lovely.  He wasn't anxious, I wasn't irritated and, best of all, he remembered me and gave me the biggest hug I've had in a very long time. Friends have asked whether he wanted to come home or whether he enquired about Max and the answer to both of those questions has been 'no'.  He didn't ask about anything or anyone and was just happy to live in the moment.   We walked into town and went for a cup of tea and a scone, took a long route back and commented on the huge houses we passed before I made my first mistake.  What I should have done was put him into the hands of one o

  Did you think I’d disappeared? That I was lost, never to return?   If you did you weren’t on your own. Dementia takes away so much but most people assume that what is lost is huge parts of the person living with dementia.   Few people realise that it takes the carer too and those of us who take on that role sometimes fear we’re lost forever. On Wednesday 26 th October we moved Ash into a care home and a whole section of our lives moved in with him.   There was a plan (of course there was) and we knew it was coming; the home was the only one of my search that I kept coming back to in my mind.   I could picture him there and, in the lead up to the big day, I couldn’t have asked for anywhere better.   Could I take in his armchair?   Of course I could.   Could I put it in the lounge amongst all the matching, wipeable ones?   No problem.   Could I move in a more comfortable bed?   Absolutely.   And, most importantly, could I move the room around, put pictures on the walls and lay i