I think my great-grandfather died in that same hospital in Redhill. He was 99 and a bit, no telegram; he had said to me at 98 that he "learned something every day". Although blind and partially deaf he had everything about him until nearly the end. That's as close to a good death as you'll get. What you're going through is rough, horrible and unfair to both him and you. Best wishes.
Yeah. All that. Mum doesn't know who I am any more. She knows I'm important to her, but the how has gone. But there are still flashes of mum and I cherish them.
Ultimately, she's safe, fed and watered, and happy. I can't really ask for much more than that.
Thanks for this piece, Ian. I've just been visiting both my parents this week, with so many parallels to yours that it's uncanny. Especially relate to that feeling of dread on the way to the care home. And what do you say to someone who's bed-bound with dementia and who says over and again, "I just want to die"? One good football moment with my dad, though - we were leafing through the photo album I made for him years ago that documented our trip to Italia 90 to watch Scotland. "Here," I said, "this was when we saw them play Brazil in Torino." My dad: "How many did we lose by?" When I told him it was 1-0 he perked up slightly: "Oh, that wasn't too bad, then."
Written with love & truth, Ian. 🫂 Friend's Mum is struggling with dementia & bowel cancer. Having a stoma is proving a challenge. "The cancer is the least of her worries..." That's how bad dementia can be. Heartbreaking. But you & your sister are doing your bit & that's what matters.
Lovely piece Ian. Thanks for sharing.
I think my great-grandfather died in that same hospital in Redhill. He was 99 and a bit, no telegram; he had said to me at 98 that he "learned something every day". Although blind and partially deaf he had everything about him until nearly the end. That's as close to a good death as you'll get. What you're going through is rough, horrible and unfair to both him and you. Best wishes.
Yeah. All that. Mum doesn't know who I am any more. She knows I'm important to her, but the how has gone. But there are still flashes of mum and I cherish them.
Ultimately, she's safe, fed and watered, and happy. I can't really ask for much more than that.
Anyhoo, solidarity brother.
Thanks for this piece, Ian. I've just been visiting both my parents this week, with so many parallels to yours that it's uncanny. Especially relate to that feeling of dread on the way to the care home. And what do you say to someone who's bed-bound with dementia and who says over and again, "I just want to die"? One good football moment with my dad, though - we were leafing through the photo album I made for him years ago that documented our trip to Italia 90 to watch Scotland. "Here," I said, "this was when we saw them play Brazil in Torino." My dad: "How many did we lose by?" When I told him it was 1-0 he perked up slightly: "Oh, that wasn't too bad, then."
Written with love & truth, Ian. 🫂 Friend's Mum is struggling with dementia & bowel cancer. Having a stoma is proving a challenge. "The cancer is the least of her worries..." That's how bad dementia can be. Heartbreaking. But you & your sister are doing your bit & that's what matters.
Best wishes,
O.