Healthy living Blog

Carer Diary

March 25, 2008: hanky hankering

Marianne Talbot

This week's warm, touching and down-to-earth blog from Marianne Talbot, who cares for her mother with Alzheimer's disease

‘My innards appear to have gone into my long ones,’ complained mum yesterday.

Hmm. Mum’s loss of language adds to the gaiety of days. This gem meant her handkerchief had gone too far up her sleeve.

Mum’s handkerchiefs are the bane of my life. If she doesn’t have a handkerchief she will – quite unconsciously - make everyone’s life a misery.

The search starts at her wrists. Pulling her sleeve out she peers in. Then she starts rummaging. Then she’ll try the other wrist. Then, snuffling in earnest, she’ll widen her search to her armpits and her bra.

Then her pockets. She’ll turn them all inside out v e r y s l o w l y. Then she’ll turn to her waistband and her knickers.

If no handkerchief appears she’ll use something else. Napkins are wonderful. Loo paper will do (she takes a whole ribbon, then puts it in her pocket. It always ends up in the washing machine). But failing these she’ll use blankets, tea towels or whatever might be to hand.

I have bought her so many handkerchiefs I am single-handedly keeping the industry alive. She has two drawers’ full. Great man-sized things.

I keep handkerchiefs in every room. But it doesn’t matter how many she starts out with, she will soon have lost them all. At night she must have one under each pillow and one in her breast pocket.

After use, mum follows a painful (to me) ritual: the handkerchief must be folded and put away.

Simple enough you might think. But not for mum. The folding, for example, is an art form. It takes ages and clearly matters a great deal.

First she lies the handkerchief on her lap. She then folds it in half. The corners must meet exactly. If whoever ironed it (usually mum herself) hasn’t flattened the corners this will cause great anxiety. Each fold must be the same size as the last, and the whole must then be secured in some way.

I am used to having a bundle of handkerchief thrust at me so that I can secure it. I have found the best thing to do is exclaim at the neatness of the bundle, and to suggest mum put it safely in her sleeve so she’ll know where it is next time.

It is fun to watch visitors seeing mum’s handkerchief ritual for the first time. Initially they look puzzled. Then distressed, as it sinks in that this is a manifestation of the Alzheimer’s. But they soon get used to it.

I have no idea where the ritual came from. It started ages ago. But in some odd way it makes her less anxious.

That’s got to be worth something.

More from Marianne
More on care
Care funding
Useful websites

Back to top

Make a comment

 

Information on this site is for interest only and is not a substitute for professional medical advice. You should consult your own doctor about any specific health concerns.

Back to top