Marianne Talbot The final assessment is over. The final funding assessment anyway. We haven’t even started those to do with Mum’s suitability for a home.
This one was awful. Not because of the assessment so much as the tension between me and my brother and sister-in-law. I continue to feel betrayed by their having decided, with my sister but without me, that Mum would be traumatised by returning to this house.
The atmosphere was full of my resentment, and everyone else’s treading on eggshells.
I felt for the assessor who had no idea what was going on. I hope she didn’t think she was doing something wrong. Our care manager, who was sitting in, does know. She tells me such tension is completely normal when one sibling has done most of the caring.
As for trauma: Mum acted as if she had never seen the house before. She greeted me with affection, and maybe a spark of recognition, and asked politely where the lavatory was. She displayed none of the understanding on which trauma might be based (ha!)
She didn’t even recognise Fatcat. I picked Fatcat up, hoping to stimulate Mum’s old adoration. But Fatcat hates to be picked up and hissed violently. Mum recoiled, and later threw a handkerchief at poor ord Fatcat.
The test started. The questions were amazing... mum wouldn’t have been able to answer them three years ago never mind now! Asked what year the First World War started she said “1999”. Asked how old she was she clearly had no idea. She was then given an address and told that in a few minutes she would be asked to repeat it.
Eh??
Mum has lived with me for nearly five years and hasn’t been able to remember the address from day one. She had no idea even what she was being asked.
As the questioning proceeded (“what year are we in?” “Who is Prime Minister?”) mum started to get upset. She still has a sense of when she is being tested. Once she loved to rise to the challenge, sometimes unhelpfully so, but now, I think she can sense only that she’s failing.
Mum does not like to fail.
The rest of the assessment was directed at the carer. As I answered questions about Mum’s mood and interaction with others, especially those caring for her, it came home to me again how utterly Mum has changed over the last six months.
I used to feel desperate at the thought of her going in to a home. But as she is now I think a home is the only way she’ll get the routine and security she needs.
I just hope she becomes institutionalised as soon as possible.