Marianne Talbot with her mother Mum can’t bear me out of her sight. If I leave the room she’s on my heels in seconds calling ‘is anyone here?’ It makes me want to weep. She wants constant attention too. If I try to do something – read the paper, do a bit of work – within five minutes she’s looking like a wet weekend, within ten she’s saying that she wants to die.
She’s only happy if I am sitting with her explaining over and over to her why she is here.
First I show her a picture of her and daddy sitting in front of their house. Then I explain that daddy died. When her face falls I say that he was ready and it would be wrong to call him back. She nods her head wisely and says she understands.
‘Then’, I say, ‘I suggested that you come to live with me. I showed you this picture of our house (I show her the estate agent’s blurb) and you agreed it would be fun. You’ve lived here happily for four years now’.
‘Four years?!’ she says at this point, ‘Then why don’t I remember?’. ‘Because’, I say, ‘You’ve had a nasty infection that has made you feel rotten. But you’re getting better now. Soon you’ll feel fine’.
This story calms her. It’s not entirely true of course. For a start I have no idea whether she has a urine infection. Neither has anyone else.
When the doctor came she wouldn’t let him touch her. When he tried she growled at him. The district nurse got as far as trying to take a blood sample. But the minute mum felt the needle she screamed blue murder. The nurse and I backed off double quick. We didn’t even try to get a urine sample.
We’re going to treat her ‘blind’ with antibiotics. Mum has never had problems with antibiotics, so even if there is no infection she shouldn’t react badly. If an infection is part of the problem they’ll help clear it up.
My days are agony. One minute I feel huge compassion. The next I feel murderous. Mostly I feel helpless. How can you help someone who has no memory at all?
Only by giving them your full attention.
But I simply can’t do it. Not only because I am so busy, but also because it’s not in my nature.
But tomorrow my sister and brother are coming for a week whilst I go walking in the Lake District. When I get back I will re-think the care situation sensibly.
So think of me next week striding across the hills, free as a bird.