Bored with Christmas now.....It is raining. Wish I was in France.

My new year resolution is to be more cheerful.

Family coming to dinner tomorrow night and staying over, in dad's room. I have prepared room with expensive air freshener and my White House bedlinen but it still looks dingy. I wonder how M. will feel about redecorating. Our belongings - clothes, books, pictures and furniture will have been in store for nearly a year which just goes to show that you can live without things but it is not very nice. I think we will have to make decisions soon as to what we are going to do, we can't keep on paying storage but we have too much to fit into this little house.

My new year resolution is to be more cheerful

My new year resolution is to be more cheerful

My new year resolution is to be more cheerful

Write this 100 times and I might remember it!

Happy New Year

Today we varied the traditional Christmas Fayre by having beef. I pootled through the cooking with a couple of a variations on the veggies. Instead of mashed swede and carrot combined with a dollop of butter and sprinkle of black pepper, I mashed the swede with butter and horseradish sauce. Delicious. The roasted parsnips were accompanied by batons of carrots all sloshed in honey, olive oil and whole grain mustard and then cooked in the hot oven. They weren't quite cooked enough but timing was always my problem with cooking. Pudding was to be banoffee pie, a family favourite. Having had a bad accident with the tins of condensed milk exploding in the past I was greatly relieved to find the caramel ready made and just as good. It only needed to be put together. Unfortunately, (there is always one of them in our house when I am cooking) I forgot that we had no means of whipping the cream. I fetched my son into the kitchen to hand beat it.

That lasted all of 5 seconds before he went off in search of a better means that didn't involve manual labour. If I didn't know before that my son was his father's progeny - I do now. He came back with my husbands electric drill and inserted a fork into the bit before switching the power on. It worked. The drill however was ruined. A minor detail compared to not having banoffee pie. Usually it is the men in my household who make off with my kitchen knives etc. and use them for the wrong purpose now I have got my own back. The pie was delicious except that I hadn't quite cooked the pastry base.

We went to the respite place to see dad on Christmas morning. All was well, except someone else had dad's shirt on. It's a very distinctive shirt - black with great stripes. Not many old men wear black shirts; it reflects dad's teddy boy past! It was a bit tight on the old guy. One of the carers dressed up in an ill fitting santa suit and then proceeded to do a hoola hoop routine in front of everyone! Bizaare. Then all the residents were served schooners of dry sherry. Dad downed his in one go. We left as he fell asleep.

I have been told off for not keeping my blog going. There is plenty to say but it is not all about Dad.

We are all ready for Christmas, loads of food but nothing to eat. The fridge is full up and bursting at the seams with the freezer just as bad. Prescribed menus leave nothing to spontaneity (sic).

Anyway, it is sausage and chips tonight and bags of sweets. I Bought 7 bags of sweets yesterday to put out in festive bowls to be dipped in, as and when. The as and when took place last night and five of the bags disappeared. Today I replenished.

Two of us are going to visit Dad tomorrow and the other two are going to visit the other dad then we will all mass in Brighton for an agenda packed day. Secret Santa clues still to be written which is a bit difficult as two of our lot don't know the premises very well. I am basing my clues on nursery rhymes such as: incy wincy spider climbed up the spout...etc. Spout meaning teapot which is where my first clue will be found!

Thursday came and went still no news of funding. No surprise there then. It snowed big time

5/6 inches and everywhere came to a standstill. We got stuck out and had to abandon car and walk home in a blizzard. This does not feel good. Sharp pieces of glass flinging into your face.

Managed to get into Brighton even though there were no buses or trains to see Chicago at the dome.

Theatre was sold out but only third full. Freezing cold but drove home. Lift dropped me at bottom of hill and I walked the rest. Quite worn out with all the excitement.

We took a spare pair of glasses over to dad as the respite centre still hadn't found his glasses.

As we walked into the communal sitting room dad was being taken off to change his trousers!

We sat and waited. The lightbulb lady did not look quite so immaculate but her clothes were very smart and I was quite mesmerised by her gentility. She wanted to know what day it was as her birthday was coming up (tomorrow). As we waited I pulled the spare pair of glasses out to clean them. M. said "Are you sure they're his?" I looked at them. I don't think they are his either.

They had the wrong type of lense. Oh dear.

He came in and sat down next to us but clearly he hadn't been changed into clean trousers because he smelled.

Shavers and light bulbs

We took new clothes and shaver over to dad and he did look a little more respectable. He had been moved upstairs to the bigger unit. The other residents were quite chatty, one of the ladies was flirting with him, bless. A fragile looking lady, beautifully dressed with exquisite skin was very distressed to only have one light in her room. The bulb had gone in the other. She approached everyone who came near to tell them about it and what should she do. She hadn't got a torch either. The staff kept telling her that the maintenance man would come and mend it soon. That wasn't satisfactory and she really needed it done now. She was so genteel and well spoken, her hair was immaculate. I enquired how long it would take to replace the missing bulb and alleviate the poor woman of her distress and everyone else's at having to listen to this tale of woe, repeatedly.

I was told that the staff were not allowed to change bulbs, they had to call in an outside contractor!

The world or ESCC has gone mad. The new Philips shaver didn't fit the socket!

I went to see Dad today and was mortified by the state of him. He was sitting in the downstairs community room rather than in the cosier lounge used by only four people. He was fast asleep and looked absolutely beyond scruffy. He had glasses on that were bi-focals and definitely not his, a tatty old tracksuit top which looked ghastly, proper trousers with chocolate dripped down the front (I hope) and his brogue shoes. He clearly had not had a shave in days. I asked if he had lost his slippers. I asked about the glasses.

Apparently someone should have rung me to request a new shaver, preferably electric or at the very least some shaving sticks and some more clothes as he was 'extended'. I sat with him and nearly wept as Black Beauty was on the TV and I can't cope with sad things at the moment. My mind-set is fragile to the extent that I find stories on soaps worrying, anything to do with animals and children upsetting, pretty well anything sad has a terrible effect on me so I go round shutting my eyes to reality.

I asked dad if he knew the names (surnames) of the people who were sending him cards but all he could remember was which area of town they lived in so I should be able to identify who is who.

He was pleased to get some sweeties but within 5 minutes of me arriving he was fast asleep again.

I will go over on Monday with more clothes and a new electric razor. All the washing takes a heavy toll on clothes and they deteriorate very quickly. I now feel terribly guilty that I haven't taken proper care of him.

To Spend or not to Spend

Thursday has come and gone and no news re funding. I find it very difficult to think of anything else and seem to be permanently waiting. Friday a.m. I ring our man in the mental health unit.

No funding again. We talk about options and I have to decide not to spend dad's money on paying to go into care. My problem is that if he is paying until his money runs out they might think we had deliberately run down his finances. If we pay then the powers that be might think he is less of a priority. I decide not to spend the excess cash. I know my sister will agree. We talk about the respite home where dad is now, our man says he will ring them and see if he can extend it again.

I have very little hope as he has already tried before. This morning I put all the bedding back together and lit a Christmas incense stick ready for dad to come home.

The phone rang. Respite is extended until 8th Jan.

Tomorrow I will go over and see dad and take some cards to him. He gets lots of Christmas cards from the neighbourhood which is really great. I go through the address book and write cards from him to people who I have no idea whether they are still alive or not, I've never heard of half of them (this is a job my sister has done in the past). I don't know whether it is appropriate to send cards from someone who has alzheimers and who undoubtedly doesn't remember these 'friends' anymore. I will ask him tomorrow if he recognises the names of the people who have sent him cards.

This morning I telephoned the Agency and re-instated all the carers. This afternoon I telephoned and cancelled them again. This must have caused them a lot of work.

It has been a strange day. I can't find the Christmas tree. I have been up in the loft and produced two boxes of baubles but no tree. I have masses of lovely decorations but they are all in storage and I can't get to them. I find this strangely upsetting.

I have spoken to Matron and our man at Social Services. There is 'no running out of money' and we can use dad's savings to put him in as early as next week but that money is not refundable and it is, after all his money. Not a decision we will take lightly.

In the meantime, my frustration at this delay leaves me with nothing to do except dwell.....

Whilst dwelling, I remembered an episode that I have not already written down, well I don't think so.

It was about 5 o'clock, about the time that he wakes up and gets a bit restless; usually, that is taken care of by going along the shop to buy some sweets (Werthers Originals). Off he trotted and I sit reading the paper. The carer arrived, no dad. She left him a sandwich and I promise to do the meds. M starts cruising the estate and the cemetary (where mum is) still no dad. One of the neighbours makes a joke about M driving up and down and hastily backtracks when M explains that dad has gone awol.

At 7.00, it is dusk and I make a call to the police. A few words of explanation press the alarm buttons: elderly, vulnerable, alzheimers, lost......I visualise helicopters and search parties up on the downs.

At 8.00 ish we get a call from the Police, they had found him in Brighton General Hospital!

My sister collects him about 11.00 pm. He hadn't wanted to come home (all those young nurses)

and was a bit hyper. The hospital probably wanted him out asap as he has been somewhat difficult in the past. On one occasion he went walkabout in the hospital and was found several floors adrift having a pee in someone's sink. Another time, he caused a full scale security search when he again went missing. He was found sometime later tucked up in bed with another old man. Neither had any idea. I recall visiting him in hospital when he was very confused and he pointed to an old man in the bed opposite and said "Look, there's B..........(me) in that bed over there.

I think he likes going to other places, respite home, hospital, etc., because there is lots going on and his life at home is so boring and lonely. Every room is full of memories of happier times, mum, and a more dynamic life (though that is not a word I would normally equate to dad).

So frustrated. The weekly meeting that decides who gets funding or not deemed not....

I have no idea how this system works but wonder if we are waiting for someone to die.

Tomorrow I will ring Matron at the chosen home and ask if she can wait any longer. Another option is for us to pay ourselves until they catch up with us but it is more than £500 per week.

I was in such a cheery mood this morning now I have sunk back down to the depths. We have one more week of respite.

A bolt from the blue. We are able to fund dad in a care home with help from East Sussex C C.

I cannot tell you what a relief this is. Nice things do happen!! Social services often get a bad press but I have to say that the people we deal with have all done their job properly, have been kind, have been helpful and I have drawn support from them.

I hate vinyl. At least it is clean. The top floor is nordic but plastic.

Respite has been extended. I have discovered a wonderful charity called relatives and residents association who actually help. Practical advice. Legalities explained, and, they reply to emails the same day. I actually feel quite optimistic, a glass of wine is in order.

As I expected we have not had a result for funding help but the guy who looks after dad and us has been able to extend his respite. I will go over and see dad tomorrow, hopefully I will get a better reception. I must ask the consultant if we might cancel the Aricept. It might make a difference to his sleepiness and I don't suppose it is doing him much good now.

New flooring is coming tomorrow. More vinyl!! It will prevent the constant carpet cleaning and make things easier for me and the carers. Had a better night last night due to sleeping tablets.

Today I will move all the furniture and stuff into dad's room while he is away. Still haven't got the plastic sheet to put under his bed to prevent the rising tide of piddle! The social services have not contact us yet so I anticipate we will be refused funding, again. M. says I am pessimistic but I can't help it. Weather still awful and there were no copies of the Telegraph left in the shop had to take the Mail.

Dad will come home on Monday and despite all I will be pleased to see him. It's not his fault he has this dreadful disease and he at least is quite happy.

I seem to be getting more tired during this respite. We have had a request from the social services to see my mothers will. Weather is awful and I barely slept a wink last night. I sat downstairs reading at 2.00 am. I have been listening to CD tapes of C J Sansom's Dissolution, very calming but I wish I could go to sleep. I have so much to do and no capacity to do it.

We went to see dad and woke him up. I don't think he knew who we were and then got grumpy!

Left his medication with the nurse. Tried to have a conversation but he wasn't having it. E asked him to show us his room. "Do I have to" He looked quite well.

Drove home.

I do quite miss dad. The house is clean but it feels empty without him. I have his medication bubble pack for next week so I will take it over to the respite place and see how he is getting on.

Rainswept and Depressed

I have stripped the house of everything to be cleaned whilst dad is away and come across little hidden items. Socks in the nick-nack draw, biscuits hidden in a cup, jumper under the pillow but still not teeth.

We have not received funding for the second week running, it is pouring with rain, my aches and pains have all come back and I wish I wasn't here, and to top it all the dog has been sick on the settee.

I am worried that the matron who has agreed to take dad on will not wait for us and the room will be lost. I am so tired.

Despite my carefully laid plans for dad's care whilst M and I were away it all fell apart on the first morning. He refused to get up to go the the day centre. The carers can't force the issue and I use lots of strategies to persuade him when he is being mulish. My favourite is to get the hoover out!

We were away from Friday until Tuesday but dad was going into respite on Monday. Friday, at some point he got dressed and sat himself on the settee and stayed there until Monday morning. No bed, no showers and no clean clothes. Oh well.

We had a great time and it was a bit of a struggle to come home.

Lastnight I came downstairs to remind dad to go to bed. He asked whether mum was coming up too then he turned to his left (odd) and started patting the arm rest, when it didn't respond he began to thump it, really hard. If she had been there she could have sued him for battery. I said to him that she was already upstairs. "No, she's not, she's here."

I left him to it. He came up later with some items that he didn't know what to do with. A used nappy pad (only piddle fortunately) and his electric shave with half the bits missing.

"where am I sleeping tonight?"

Most people run away from ghosts

The transport forgot to pick dad up today so I took him down at 11.00 and joined in the two minutes silence.

Had a disturbed night with M having a dream......He found himself, me and children in a large american barn with hay on the floor and gaps between the wooden slats. There was a ghost in the barn too, it looked like an amorpheus (don't know how to spell that) blob with twinkling lights in the centre and it was keeping him awake. Here's the rub, he chased it into a corner and then tried to blow its lights out with lots of huffing and puffing - which is what woke me up! We have discussed this at length and he is the only person I know who runs towards ghosts rather than away.

I am gearing myself up for Friday, us leaving for a weekend away, dad on his own until Monday and me leaving him a packed case for the respite. It could all go terribly wrong......

Grey Tuesday 10th November 2009

The guy from social services came and after lots of questions to dad, most of which received random and inaccurate replies, he agreed that he would go to a care home. This was a relief but I still spent the day feeling unsettled. Funding has to be applied for representing the difference between what dad has got and what is needed. We would be self funding for approx 60%. Our social services friend applies to a committee and if they have enough money that week then he can go immediately. If they haven't got enough funds then it is put off until next Thursday and so on...

I am away on Friday and V. will look after dad until Monday when he goes into respite for two weeks or goes to the home. I hope it all works out, it is very stressful.

I am in a lot of pain at the moment and I need some sun and luxury. Cyprus will have the sun, I hope, and my friend's home will seem like luxury compared to how we are living now.

We will return on Tuesday.

Sunday, again wet and windy

Had a great day out with a friend, I left home at 10.30 with a note for the carer to get dad up.

When I finally arrived back at 4.00 he was still in bed! I went out again and left note for the evening carer to try and get him up. She achieved and he was up when we returned from our evening out at 11.00.

Dad is looking for mum again and he asked me where she was. Once again I explained she died 4 years ago. "But where is she?"

"In the cemetary" I reply

"Oh, is she with her husband?"

"You're her husband"

"I know that" he says.

The frozen ready meal for today's lunch was Shepherds Pie with vegetables, it smelled nice but dad took one look at it and said "What sort of lunch is this then?"

He described it as Shepherds muck pie......

Tomorrow we are expecting a visit from the Social Services guy who will try and obtain dad's consent to go into a care home. If he can't take this on board we can make the decision for him.

I hope we don't have to do that.

Friday

I can't remember what happened yesterday other than it was Bonfire Night and M went out to watch the celebrations. I was too tired and didn't feel well.

Friday we got dad up early ready for the Phoenix. We had a visit from the Financial Assessment representative. Daunting......

Tomorrow a friend is coming to stay in the town, hopefully M will look after dad while I go out.

Tuesday/Wednesday

Yesterday, Tuesday, dad wouldn't get up even though the carer didn't come until 11.00. Nothing we could say would make him. He clutches his duvet up under his chin and grins at us.

Finally, the carer gave up and left - he gets up, immediately. I was so cross he didn't dare refuse a shower. I had to go out and left him to get dressed himself. When I got back from my errand several hours later he was sitting on the sofa with his vest, shirt and jumper on, no bottom bits but with his dressing gown over the top. He slept all day and gradually the piddle smell permeated the room. I sat upstairs. By the time we were ready for bed I was very irritable. As his smell increases, and you get wafts of it as he walks by, it is as if something rises up in me - for want of a better word - blood pressure. I told him we were going to bed and reminded him it was the Phoenix tomorrow and he had to get up on time. Bugger the Phoenix he swore......

I yelled at him..........no effect whatsoever but it made me feel better.

The following morning, Wednesday, he did get up reasonably promptly and was all dressed and ready by 09.30. Then, he came into the kitchen with wet trousers on, he insisted he had spilt tea.

Complete change of clothes. It takes forever and the Phoenix ringing to say they were coming.

I am shoving his pad into his pants, all dignity out of the window and trying to do up his buttons.

We were down to our last pair of trousers and they are a little long. I can't find the right belt and the one I put on is too big. Tough. I run down to open the door and he wanders down about 2 minutes later. The traffic is held up by the big coach waiting. The transport lady trys to get him into his coat as it is cold outside and I stand behind the glass door so he can't get back into the sitting room to look in the mirror. He pushes the door and I push it back so he can't get in. We tussle over the door and finally he gives up and heads out. I apologise to the transport and shut the front door on him. It is all over for another day. I am exhausted.

Tuesday/Wednesday

Sunday Wet and Windy 1st November

We forced dad out of bed at 12.00 in time for lunch. He has a cut on his forehead, no idea how he got it. At dinner time I noticed that he was not using his knife and his fork was in his right hand, the opposite to normal. Another TIA? He had a conversation with my coat and when it didn't answer he patted it. Otherwise quite happy.

Saturday lunchtime

After the success of the Matron's visit M. and I did a runner. I rang the agency and insisted that they send two specific carers for Friday night and Saturday morning as I was leaving dad on his own overnight. We went to my sister's house in Brighton (she is in Istanbul) and after a few hours relaxing with a nice ready made dinner, a bottle of wine we three, my daughter included, got changed into some loud clothing and caught a bus (they pick up other people which wasn't quite to our taste) and headed into town for a night out with friends. We had tickets for the back row of the royal circle at the Theatre Royal to see The Rocky Horror Show. Brilliant seats, fantastic atmosphere and riotous show. We had a ball. We had cocktails in a nearby bar before the show and watched the entertainment of Brighton dressed to kill in corsets and suspenders with feather boas everywhere. It was such fun and the second time I had seen it but each reincarnation brings different sets, different, actors and a whole new experience. Afterwards we headed to Brown's Bar to finish off another bottle of wine before heading home in a brand new black BMW convertible with red leather seats. We put the hood down and waved our way through the streets with everyone waving back. Great night.

We returned home Saturday morning to find dad still sitting on the settee where we had left him and he had been there all night. The carer changed his pad but he refused a shower. They can't force him. Otherwise all well.

Friday 30th October 2009

Dad was behaving oddly last night. Normally, he talks to his imaginary friend who sits on his right hand side. Last night he was having a conversation with the stereo speaker on his left side. He was going to bed he said but what about all the others. How many others are there dad I asked. "Oh, five or six" he waves vaguely round the room. "Well they are going to bed too" says M.
Half an hour later dad comes into our room to say goodnight fully dressed in his outdoor clothes.
I ask him why he has got his coat on and he said. "Well, I might need it". He wanted to know which room he was sleeping in. I replied, "the usual one. You have been using it for 50 years."
OK.
The Matron came this morning and we were all ready, an achievement. She talked to dad and asked quite a lot of questions which we answered for him while he slept. She has agreed to take dad and we said we would take him over for a visit, next week.

The Matron from the chosen home rang today and suggested that she visit dad tomorrow morning at 9.30!! I said yes, and will ring Phoenix telling them I will deliver him later.
I feel absurdly nervous. Next week the nurse who keeps an eye on dad is visiting him to ask if he agrees to going into a home. The day after that we have an interview with the financial assessment people which is terrifying. We have to show bank statements, all income, all assests etc. It is alarming for people who have never made use of the benefits society. I will feel violated by offering up all this information especially as we are only requesting a top up of the fees. Dad's income will make up the bulk. It makes me feel sick. If he had been a lazy sod and spent all his money instead of buying his own home and paying into a pension, going without holidays, they would pay everything!

Wednesday

I knew yesterday was too good to be true. Last night I was punished for being cheerful. I won't describe the trauma of dia....... you can imagine it and it wouldn't be enough. Today, Wednesday I am staying in bed to watch waterbabies and recover, slowly. I know when things are bad because M. starts being very nice to me...

Tuesday 27th November 2009

I am in better spirits this morning - the sun is shining and it is warm. I have sprayed all the settees with fabric freshener which seems to work. Dad is still in bed at 11.00 am and I have a busy day planned.

Monday I don't know what day it is.

Once again the carer didn't turn up. I am going out today at 10.30 and I feel a bit pissed off, again. I rang the agency. They said sorry but what good is that. Anyway, he got up and I told him not to lock the bathroom door and use the soap. He was quite happy. I couldn't put a pad on him but we managed to get dressed. It is amazingly difficult to put socks on swollen elderly feet. The teeth are still missing. I have bought a plug in smelly which I hope will improve the atmosphere. I also bought a scented candle but have no matches! I feel like going out in the street and asking a stranger for matches. I still haven't bought the plastic sheet but I don't seem to get round to these things. I met a friend and hoped to go to Wakefield Place to see the autumn colours, they wouldn't let us in because I had the dog with me. The same happened at Sheffield Park but they at least let me walk round the farmland where I fell over, flat on my face. We gave up after that and headed for a pub lunch where they let the dog into the bar.
The weather was nice tho.

Sunday 25th October 2009

We will have to take the lock off the door to the bathroom because dad is not using soap or gel to wash himself. He locks everyone out and then just stands there, if he does get in the water he doesn't clean himself other that standing under it This is not enought to get rid of the soiling or urine. I went into the bathroom this morning and the soap was dry as was the flannel and the shower get had not been opened. I told the carer to make sure he washed but she said he wouldn't let her in. She helped him get dressed knowing that he was still dirty. Her suggestion was to send him down to the Phoenix to have a proper bath with their assistance. I will do this but it would save a lot of time if we enforced a shower at home. I also pulled back the bedding after she had gone and the sheets were soiled. She is a friendly girl and dad likes her cheekiness but how could she have missed that. He sits in the living room and all I can smell is pee.
I am going out this afternoon just to escape the smell.

Saturday 24th October 2009

I arrived home yesterday evening to be greeted by the terrible smell of 'accident'.
I asked dad to go and change his pad. He refuses, there's no problem, he insists.
It is nearly time for the carer to arrive so I disappear upstairs and leave him sitting on the settee in blissful ignorance. He really doesn't know what has happened and won't believe you if you try to tell him in words of blunt description.
Fortunately, the carers have an authority that he obeys, most of the time.
The poor woman, she has never been to us before. She has half an hour to deal with any problems and make a sandwich or something on toast and give him his tablets. This is all dictated by 'The Care Plan'. She encourages dad to go upstairs, still reluctant but he does go.
It takes a good half hour for her to clean him up properly and into fresh clothing. Most of the carers are very diligent in helping people keep their dignity but basically treat them as if they have the skills of two year olds which is all dad has in respect of keeping himself clean.
By the time she comes down with a freshened dad she has run out of time, if I wasn't here she would have carried on no matter how late she was. I offered to make dad's tea and supervise the drugs. It's the least I can do.

Friday 23rd October 2009

Missing teeth still missing and now, glasses too. Dad wandered round yesterday with an old pair on unfortunately only one of the lenses was there. They weren't even his!
Carer not turned up this morning and it is a Phoenix day so I got him up and in the shower, eventually. Usually he is very concerned to keep a towel wrapped round him but today he didn't bother, ugh. I went to bed early last night and came back down at 10.00 pm to try and get him to go up. What about all the others he says, they're already up there I lie. What about this fella here - he taps the seat next to him. He'll go up when you do.......
Phoenix transport rang to say they were on their way. He's not ready. I throw his toast away and cup of tea otherwise he would refuse to go and expect them to wait while he finishes his breakfast! He said, I haven't finished my breakfast. Yes, you have dad, you finished it about five minutes ago. Oh, did I. I found the glasses.

Dad refused to get up, we left him to it and he finally came downstairs, dressed, but not washed at 1.30 and promptly fell fast asleep. He stayed comatose until 5.00 with short intervals for a cup of tea and cake.
We still can't locate the original teeth but the other set are chewing well except the microwave blew up and he hasn't had anything substantial to eat all day. The microwave ready meals that are delivered weekly are quite nice and fortunately you can cook them in the oven so that is the plan for tonight.

Monday PM 19th October 2009

Dad arrives home and askes if I have found his glasses yet. I tell him he is wearing them. No, he says, I am only renting these. I remind him that it is the teeth missing, not his glasses. He tries the replacement pair and they sort of fit but he doesn't speak so well. My sister has asked if we would like to go and stay at her house and look after the cats while she is away. I don't know if I should risk leaving him.

Monday PM 19th October 2009

We found a spare set of teeth and dad promised to try them. M and I went out for the afternoon and when we came home they had gone missing as well! We think he has decided he is still 18 and doesn't need false teeth and has deliberately hidden them. When we got home (Sunday) he asked if I knew where mum was, he had been upstairs to see if she was there.
Monday we are woken abruptly at 7.30 by a new carer. I rush downstairs to iron the tousers that I had washed yesterday. Still no teeth.
It is a Phoenix day today and all goes well except he won't have a shave. He looks very untidy and we have to change into another shirt as jam goes all over the place. However, he is quite chirpy.
I find the spare teeth on top of the wardrobe, wrapped up in a little tissue parcel. No luck with the originals despite dismantling the beds, stripping the sofas of cushions and sifting the rubbish.
Such fun.

Sunday, 18th October 2009

Still no teeth. A soiled nappy has gone missing and the wash loads are up in the 4’s again as well as a trip to the cleaners.
The carer arrives and we do the linen and floors together before she gets dad in the shower; he doesn’t argue this morning because he knows he needs a good wash. It is almost lunchtime so he can have his lunch rather than breakfast.
I have been looking at some paperwork and found several interesting items.
The first, a certificate of purchase of a burial plot. This is made out to dad’s mum and cost her £1. It is quite ornate and signed by the town’s mayor and chief clerk. I wonder how many people a plot can hold? My mum’s ashes are in the Garden of Remembrance next to people she worked with when she was young. My younger sister, who died of pneumonia when she was about four, is also in the same cemetery but in an unmarked grave. Mum and dad couldn’t afford a stone. We did mull over the ideal of putting mum and Veronica together but it all got too complicated. I wonder if we can put dad in with his mum and dad when he goes. I will have to investigate this now at the Town Hall as it all gets too fraught when you are trying to manage a death.
I am not being morbid just practical. The Victorians had a pragmatic approach to death and I don’t see anything wrong with that.
In France, where I have spent some time, the cemeteries are very ornate with little houses and lots of stone and marble. Unfortunately, the French have a love affair with plastic flowers, so there are a lot of them too. The last day of October is the day of the dead and huge pots of chrysanthemums are placed on the graves, with lots of families taking the opportunity to visit and tidy their plot. I think it is a national holiday too (they have so many it is difficult to keep track).
The displays of chrysanthemums can be seen on roundabouts and in the towns; consequently their association with death means they are not used as indoor plants, which is a shame as they are so pretty.
The other documents I have found relate to a book dad bound for the Queen.
More on that later.

Saturday 16th October 2009

Dad has lost his teeth.
I've looked everywhere you'd expect and loads of places you wouldn't.
He has no idea what he does with some things and we find things in the freezer, the bread in the microwave and nappies (dirty) hidden in drawers (on one occasion we found one up the garden, hidden)! God knows what we will do if they don't turn up, he can't eat properly without them and I don't know if a dentist would still have his records as he had all his teeth out over 40 years ago. The only thing he doesn't lose are his sweets! He'll have to suck them. I think we should buy shares in Werthers Originals he eats so many.
We have had only two washloads today and the carers have turned up which is a result for the weekend. One of the carers was new but she managed to get him in the shower which was brilliant because he knows when he can get away with playing up.
I took the dog up on the downs for a while. There is an ancient barrow (bronze age) near the bonfire site and I stood up on the top of it and tried to feel the vibrations of history. No such luck but I made a few wishes anyway.

It is 7.o’clock and dad insists on one of us eating his leftover bit of cornbeef sandwich. He always wants to share his scraps. I could just say Ok and then throw it away but the perverse side of me has to tell him that we don’t want it. I suppose it is the thrift from the war years coming out but he never offered us food over and above what was on our plates when we were young.
I refuse the leftovers and watch as he adjusts the chairs, picks up the sauces and wanders aimlessy around with them until I direct him to a cupboard. Then he goes round locking and testing the doors before standing behind me waiting for me to go into the sitting room to sit down, when I do that he follows. M. disappears upstairs, he can’t bear the group TV watching session. I stay with dad as long as I can bear it.
He sniffs, farts, wipes his nose and is perfectly content. I unlock all the doors so the dog can go out.

Friday 16th October 2009

Back to normal, Dad wouldn’t get up. It’s a Phoenix day so we have to pull out all the tricks. I get the hoover. He hates hovering. He always did a runner when my mum got savage with her brush strokes. I even threatened him with a cold flannel which is what he did to get me or my sister up on occasions. He giggles, he waves at us, he pretends to be asleep but we get there in the end after half an hours concerted effort. He refused to shave so I let him get away with that. A little bit of face-save for him!
The transport pitched up early so he didn’t have a chance to fall asleep. The Dentist called and offered a replacement temporary but not until Monday. My jaw still hurts but fortunately not the tooth. I have no soft cushion between the ball and socket joint, I keep visualising it scraping.
St. Remy de Provence is sunny but cold, E had to buy a jumper! The forecast is a return to warmer temperatures. Lewes is grey.

Dad has been as good as gold today but still I have had a shit day. The sun is shining. M is away for the day. I have a list to tick off. Start with the Dentist. I can only open my mouth for a little while following surgery so visiting the dentist is a worry. When did the cost of fillings go up so much. £300 for one, albeit a large one, seems excessive. He offered a cheaper version but it was gold coloured! The NHS version, much cheaper, but apparently not worth it. I had been home a couple of hours with my jaw throbbing away when the bloody thing fell out. It was only a temporary filling but I will have to go back tomorrow and endure more.

Today I asked dad if he joined in the Lewes bonfire celebrations when he were a lad. I didn't get much of an answer but I will persue this when he feels like talking. Lewes bonfire is a fantastic, celebration of the past, Guy Fawkes, the Martyrs of Lewes, and the ceremonial burning of effigies, including a pope. More on this later
Weather in St. Remy de Provence, lovely but windy.

Wednesday 14th October 2009

The osmosis plan is not working. Dad keeps picking the towels up and hangs them on the radiators. New Plan: Buy a sheet of heavy grade plastic and put under the beds and then staple it up the sides. It will save on the washing (four loads again yesterday) and all the ironing.

Today we are taking sugar in tea. 40 years of no sugar has gone by the board. He insists he has always taken sugar. Last week when one of the carers offered him a cup of tea he said in his quaintly polite voice “Is that with lemon?”. I nearly fell about. My dad grew up a in rough and ready household, he would climb over the walls of the naval prison to run errands for the inmates: post letters, place bets that sort of thing. He even took out washing for his mum to do. Lemon in his tea was never an option. Where did that come from?

Tuesday 13th October

Dad wanted to go to the shop yesterday to buy his birthday present! The shop is about 5 minutes walk and it is the only place he walks to safely. We have an account so he never has to pay and they send him home if he has already been for the bread and milk. They are very kind to him as are most of the neighbours. We have lived at xxxxxx for 50 years and dad is very well known.

This is a godsend when he wanders because people bring him home. On occasions he has gone into one of the nearby houses and sat in their living room thinking it is his own. It must be a shock to find an old man sitting in your house, more often than not fast asleep. Even though he is little unsteady on his feet at times we don't discourage him from going out. However, there have been times when he has fallen over, it is a risk we take.

Last night I went out to a History lecture and when I returned Dad insisted that he had been out too, he hadn't. I suggested he go to bed so he patted one of the cushions and said "well, what about this fella here then." Whoever 'this fella' is he occupies a big part on dad's settee. We will have to give him a name.

We have recently found out that dad's father was probably Canadian, coming over to the UK in the 2nd WW. His grandparents were married in HH and then emigrated to Canada. Their son came back and married dad's mother. He was a hairdresser and had a shop on the high street,

Unfortunately grandfather and father had the same names which makes it a little difficult to identify documents. I have found his parents' grave they died 9 years apart but on the same day.

Monday 12th October 2009

Funny moments

Dad thought my hat, which was on the top of the settee, was a hedgehog.

We have to ask who is the daft one in this house when M makes a cup of tea, at dad's insistance, for the mystery man sitting next to him on the settee.

When trying to get dad to go to bed he says " I'll wait for mummy" I remind him that she's dead,

"Well, I'll wait for all the others then." I tell him there is only me.

"Well, who are all the others sitting here then." I give up.

M is going to ask Dad what this mystery man looks like next time he pops up in conversation.

The sky is always blue in his world.....

Sunday 11th October 2009

Peaceful day as dad didn't get up until mid afternoon by which time I had gone out! The morning carer turned up at about 10.00 stayed for no more than 15 mins (because he wouldn't move) and recorded in her log that she stayed for 1 hour.....
Lunch carer didn't show, again. I shall report them to social services. That is three times this week. The evening carer was great
When I got home Dad was in the kitchen trying to make a sandwich. He had a piece of bread, no butter but a blanket of jam on top. The bread was invisible and the jam was all over the surface. Bless!
I can't understand how someone can sleep so much. He was in bed last night by nine. He got up about 4.30 and went to bed again at 9.00
Dad has decided not to go to bed because I am staying down to watch Emma. He wants to stay with me. He thinks I am mum.

Saturday Continuing.

M went down the town to buy some comfort food. He had an Indian but I wanted a fry-up so I asked him to get me some mushrooms, a very rare occurence. He rang from Waitrose asking if I want button or shit-acre. I, of course, had the shit-acre. Unfortunately I forgot how to cook mushrooms and they ended up a bit soggy and tasteless but the egg and bacon hit the spot.
Dad has slept the day away and I am really certain that we are doing him no favours in keeping him at home. If he were with lots of people he would have to engage more.

Saturday 10th October 2009

The term 'grumpy old man' fits the bill today. Dad finally got up at 11.00 after much cohersion, a battered and messy bed and piddle all over the floor. But, the osmosis protection plan worked!
Result. I have to separate the washing - I can't bring myself to put tea-towels on with wet sheets or our clothes. Four washes later (and drying) we are all done. Last night dad wanted the imaginary man who was sitting next to him on the settee, go up to bed at the same time. I am too tired to think of any more today.

Today began well, dad got up, showered and dressed all by 9.00 am - Bliss.

When he returned at 4.00 he seemed quite bright but there was bit of a pong. I ignored it and hoped the carer would arrive to change his pad, soon...

"When are we going to the cinema" he said.

"I didn't know we were" I replied.

"Well I don't mind if we do or don't"

"OK"

The care office rang, not coming!

I could have said "shit" but it didn't seem appropriate.

Dad got up and wandered towards the downstairs loo. I asked him to take off his pad if it was dirty and leave it in the loo for me to clear away.

OK he said. I was encouraged, we were having a sensible conversation and he was understanding the situation.

OK, I asked when he came out. No, not really he replied.

"Where is your pad?" I asked,

"In there" he waved vaguely towards the loo.

"You haven't put it down the loo, have you?"

He was indignant at this slur on his capabilities

"Are you clean?" I asked innocently.

"Not really".

I asked him to go upstairs and use the moist wipes specifically for this purpose. He came downstairs with a towel round his middle, unclean I sensed.

Half an hour later he is still there and refusing to move. There is an old poem about Sussex people who won't be druv and my dad is a perfect example of that mentality.

The nappy is missing, it could be anywhere. I retired to my bedroom defeated. I'll wait for M to come home and deal with it.

Friday, 9th October 2009

Thursday 8th October 2009

The sun is shining and we are having a good morning. Dad got up on his own without any fuss and had a shower before the toenail lady came at 10.30. There was no pee on the floor or in the bed but he had peed in the clothes basket instead! The carer arrived just in time to put his pad on and she is doing the domestic cleaning today as well.

Still Wednesday.

I spent the day scrubbing carpet, osmosis damaged beds, washing (4 loads) ironing and now feel quite smug and far less anxious. Dad had a good day at the Phoenix and seemed quite happy.

I arranged with the carer that he would wear a full sized pad rather than piddling all over the place.

The carer told me that he had got into the shower with his slippers on. I have solved the problem of osmosis by rolling up towels and placing them along the edges of the beds. It is easy to wash towels every day not quite as easy to clean divan bases. Tomorrow we have nothing planned except the Age Concern lady coming to cut his toe nails. He has his own kit including some very sharp cutters and she is a volunteer recruited by the noble charity. I wouldn't want to do such a job. In actual fact dad's feet are in very good condition compared to some I have seen on much younger people. The cost of this wonderful service is £4.50

I went down the town and cheered myself up by buying the Booker prize book on Cromwell and the Norweigan thriller by Stieg Larsson and some plums.

It is raining in Lewes and I am quite sure it is beautiful in St. Remy de Provence.

Wednesday 7th October 2009

I will cope with this

Tuesday, 6th October 2009

Weather in Lewes: Lousy, raining

Weather in Remy:

Today I am escaping. The carer will get him up and do all the rest, I hope.

Returned at 5.30, still raining but had a good day. The smell of pee hits me as I walk in. Dad not dressed. Wearing a dressing gown and socks. He smells.

The log says he refused to get up until lunchtime.

The carer arrived and made him tea. She changed the rubbish bin and put a new bag in. Dad took his plate and cup into the kitchen and washed up, I will have to re-do it. He keeps wiping his nose on the tea-cloth. I went into the kitchen to make myself a boiled egg and soldiers. Floor awash, its pee. Mopped up and then put some rubbish in the bin, or started to. He’s tried to pee into the rubbish bin. I can’t bear it.

I abandon the boiled egg. I can’t eat.

He sits munching his sweets.

Last night he asked if the man sitting next to him was going to bed too, there was no-one there.

Sunday 4th October

Weather dull

No carers turned up until 5.00!

He slept on the settee all night, fully dressed with his dressing gown on top.

I gave him his lunch before I went out to an Art Exhibition. Left a note for the missing carers.

Evening carer reported to the office.

Bedtime: Dad wanted to know if the bloke who was sitting next to him on the two seater settee was going to bed as well! There was no-one there.

Saturday, 3rd October 2009

Big day today, dad is going out this evening to a reunion of Brighton Museum and Library. High risk but worth doing. Refused wet shave.

Carer didn’t show up for lunch call.

Got dad dressed up but looks a bit woolly with no shave

Lectured him on using toilets properly.

All went well and worth the effort but I was exhausted when we got home.

He wouldn’t go to bed.

Monday 5th October

Wet and horrid in Lewes

23 degrees in St. Remy

Dad pretended to be sleeping and wouldn’t open his eyes when we tried to get him up. The carer and I told him he was going out to the day centre (The Phoenix).

Bugger the Phoenix he said.

Spent half an hour trying to coax him up but he pretended to be asleep. As soon as the carer left he got up and demanded tea and toast.

Fortunately the carer promised to come back a bit later to get him dressed. I cancelled the transport and said I would drive him down later.

We needed to do a new care-plan so spent an hour with the admin person writing out the same plan we had last year. I moaned about the lack of carers over the weekend and the fact that we had no domestic either.

Got the usual mantra that it was all booked……I’ve heard it all before. I dread to think what happens with other patients who haven’t got anyone.

I hear the odd thing from the grapevine and last week a friend’s mother, who is in a similar situation as dad, dislocated her hip whilst in bed. The poor woman was in agony and vomiting. It took the paramedics two hours to get there.

Couldn’t get dad to the Phoenix, he wasn’t keen at all. I wonder if something happened on Friday as I heard him say to the transport lady that he wouldn’t be seeing her again!

I sat up in our room during the afternoon and I heard him come upstairs. He came in and asked me if I had told Martin about “what we had found downstairs”

What did we find downstairs I asked.

“You know, the animals."

What animals, I can’t remember any animals.

"Well - you know, - have you told him."

When was this, I asked,

“last week” he said.

I asked what sort of animals, big or little ones….

He thought they were mouse size, maybe..

I agreed to tell M.

There were no animals big or little but he definitely saw them in his mind. Same as he sees people in the sitting room.

Two lots of trousers today and three washes of pee soaked bedding, clothes etc.

Dad asked where mum was. I reminded him, gently, that she died nearly four years ago.

I am having a day out tomorrow, something to look forward to.

Thursday 1st October

Lewes: Lovely sunny day but autumnal. 17degrees

St. Remy de Provence : 28 degrees

Got up in the night, terrible smell, opened all the windows and doors to let air through. Wet carpet on the landing. Have to replace soon with more vinyl.

Dad came into our room in the night, He had no clothes on so partially hid behind door. He waved to us as we struggled to surface. There was nothing wrong he just wanted to say goodnight, again.

Carer comes late today so I get a bit of a lie in and a peaceful shower. Dad is downstairs in his pyjamas and shirt on top. I go to check his room for washing and find the cause of the night-time smell. Stuck to the floor and dry. Mop the puddles so I can get in and open the windows. We scrape up the mess with a trowel after M suggests a spatula! All clean before carer arrives, lucky her. Change all bedding again and decide to put blocks of wood under bed edges to stop the osmosis action. M says we can’t have castors back on because the beds would move and be dangerous.

Blocks of wood it is then.

Carer arrives and supervises heavy duty shower with her doing proper washing of his bits otherwise he forgets how to wash properly and we end up with dirty towels and a repeat shower with a very disgruntled dad.

Open all windows and doors to get fresh air in. Wipe all surfaces with anti bacterial. Door handles, light switches and wall as well as the obvious places.

Just tea and toast today for dad’s breakfast. Find hidden dirty pants and vest and wet slippers.He obviously tried to clean himself up but then forgot half way through.

Two washloads today including slippers. Went into town to sit in the library.

Wednesday, 30 September 2009

Weather in Lewes, E. Sx. United Kingdom

Cloudy and grey Max temp. 16 degrees

Weather in St. Remy de Provence, France

Fine, sunny and warm. It’s a no brainer as to where I want to be.

The carer is late, I drag myself out of bed and knock on dads door to prepare him for getting up.

Every morning I wonder if he will wake up.

The bedroom floor is awash with pee, a result of changing the carpet to non-slip vinyl. The down side of this is that there is no carpet to absorb the liquid so the pee gets absorbed into the bottom of the divan as well as the mattress. Where did I put the castors? Why did I take them off?

Last month we had to cut bits out of the carpet out. My friends seemed to find this hilarious, a carpet with holes in it.

I make some tea, none for dad otherwise it will delay him getting up. Today is a Phoenix Day Centre day and it is as important for me as him. He goes three days a week

and it is my lifeline.

The carer arrives and charges up the stairs, her cheerful voice heralds flurry and a belligerent attitude from dad. He doesn’t want to get up, he says ‘Ok’ and then carries on comatose. I join the fray and remind him that he has an outing to the Phoenix Day Centre. He waves to me from the depths of his smelly bedding. 15 minutes of cajoling, threatening and general 'small child' tactics gets him to swing his legs round while the carer heaves him up, protecting his modesty with a large towel. The only time he moves fast is when he hops from bed to bathroom. The shower is underway. I return to my tea and a few minutes in bed, relishing the moment of peace.

After the carer has served breakfast of scrambled egg on toast she runs off to her next client and I am left trying to encourage hair brushing and teeth cleaning.

I check the made bed, it is sopping wet, how can she have missed that? I change the bottom sheet, and the mattress protectors. I leave the mattress open to air.

It still smells!

The Phoenix rings in advance of arrival to ensure he has his shoes on. I open the door and say “Come along dad, they’re waiting” I wave to the driver and see a coach load of elderly faces all waiting to see how long it will take to get dad out of the house. He checks his pockets and walks to the door before turning round and heading back to the mirror, patting his pockets for his money. He has no money, ever. ‘Hurry dad, they are waiting’ I say in embarrassment. ‘Well, let them wait’

He’s gone. I collapse on the settee.