Last summer I requested Mum’s GP put her forward for a memory assessment.

We were told that the waiting list was so long we were on the waiting list for the waiting list.

I took Mum to a private doctor for the assessment.  It turned out the severity of Mum’s stroke meant that he couldn’t do the assessment (but did diagnose a few other things, presumably to feel better about his fees).

In October I got a call from the memory assessment unit to see if Mum still needed the assessment. ‘You mean it’s been so long that you’re checking she is still alive, don’t you?’ I asked.  The person on the phone laughed in an embarrassed way then went quiet.  I confirmed that she was still very much alive and hadn’t suddenly got better (quite the opposite) so yes.

Last week –  I called the memory assessment unit to find out what on earth was happening and once again they went quiet.  It seemed Mum had fallen off the list.  But ‘Could you bring her in on Monday?’  No.  I had a day of clients.  ‘9.30am Tuesday then?’  So the service that was so busy we’d not made the waiting list in six months, suddenly had two available, two hour appointments on two consecutive days the following week… I chose not to question it and grabbed the appointment with both hands.

To make it work, I had an early start on Tuesday: I got up at 5.15am, left at 6am, got to Tesco at 7am, shopped and got to Mum and Dads for 8am (brief interlude somewhere here to admire the stunning sunrise:

and wonder what the shepherds might be warning me about.)

Got Mum up, washed her, encouraged her to stick with just one pair of knickers (as it was Tuesday and on Tuesday we only need one pair of purple pants.  It’s amazing how something so daft stops her from arguing with you), slurped a cup of coffee each and hopped into the car.  I told Mum we were going on an adventure.  I will never utter those words to her again.

We got to the hospital, announced ourselves, signed in and a reception lady walked down the corridor towards us saying ‘I’m sorry – the doctor has called in sick.  There is nobody here to see you’.

Now, there is quite a lot that’s been going on in life recently and as she said this it felt like a bit of a final straw and something broke. I didn’t react, but this angel lady saw it and rather than ushering us out, she ushered us in, sat us down and made me another coffee while she went to make some calls.  An hour later the angel lady had acquired a nurse and a room – all we had to do was get there – a couple of towns away.  So the adventure continued.

Mum still didn’t know what we were going for.  When she was more with us she said she’d never go to a memory assessment and I didn’t know if she’d remember that feeling enough to refuse to go in if I told her.  So instead I said we were going to see a doctor who would have a chat and then tell her how beautiful she is.  She seemed to like that idea.

Until we got there.  And it became clear what the appointment was for because the nurse and clinical lead insisted that Mum needed to know because of patient consent. Mum didn’t understand what they were telling her and got upset.  I had told the angel lady and her colleague that we wouldn’t need a two hour appointment as based on the paperwork I’d had to fill in prior to the appointment, I knew Mum wouldn’t be able to answer any questions.  They assured me that all questions had to be asked, regardless.  I told the nurse the same (very subtly).  She had the same answer.

The nurse asked about a quarter of the questions.  Mum didn’t get any right. It lasted 20 minutes.  Mum got upset and cried every time she was asked a question.  I calmed her down after each one…and it started again.  The nurse apologised at the end.  Mum refused to look at me until we left the building…

…and then she turned to face me with a big smile on her face and said ‘Well, that was quite fun, wasn’t it?  And wasn’t that lady nice?’ 😳

Because we saw a nurse, not a doctor we didn’t get a diagnosis there and then.  And I guess some people might read this and wonder why I insisted on putting Mum through that.  If she’d had the assessment when I’d asked (or ideally earlier if her GP had put her forward when she realised there was an issue), she would have had an option of medication that might slow down the deterioration of her brain.  And she’d have had an opportunity to attend sessions to learn ways to retain some memories.  Those things are no longer relevant, but the reason why we went anyway is because amazingly, the doctors who give / review the assessments are the only ones who can diagnose dementia.  And for Mum to receive the right support going forwards, she needs that diagnosis.  So that is why I did it.  And I guess if you’re looking for silver linings, she really did forget how upset she was as soon as we left and for once, I was grateful that her short term memory has clearly left the building.

From sunrise to sunset, it was an adventure and a half 😬