This Tuesday I joined Mum for breakfast as there seemed rather a lot to get done and I’ve discovered it is possible to fit more into the day if you simply get up earlier and crack on.

However, the level of ‘cracking on’ that can happen in a room of people with dementia is a little on the low side, and this was highlighted by a loop of conversation around Mum’s marmalade on toast that went a little like this:

Me: ‘Mum, are you going to eat your toast?’

Mum: ‘I’m waiting for him’ (nodding at the man sitting next to her for no particular reason I could identify)

Me ‘I think he’s done, if you want to start’.

Mum: ‘I can’t’

Purple tunic carer (Mum loves everyone in a purple tunic.  I’m thinking of getting one): ‘Would you like to eat your toast?’

Mum: ‘I am’ (clearly not)

Purple tunic carer: ‘Here, pick it up like this’ (helping mum grasp the toast)

Mum: ‘Oh’

*Purple tunic carer walked away, mum put down the toast*

Me: ‘Mum, are you going to eat your toast?’

Mum: ‘I don’t have things to eat it with.’

Me: ‘You pick it up with your hands like the lady just showed you’

Mum: (looking incredulous) ‘Don’t be so silly; of course you don’t!’

The three of us did the loop for a while before Mum decided she was giving up on the toast and going to her room.  I grabbed her walker and tried to manoeuvre her to hold the handles.  Obviously I’d created a level of mistrust by suggesting using hands to eat toast with and Mum was not keen on following my suggestion.  And then I felt my scarf tightening around my neck… the lady who was sitting with her back to Mum had reached around and taken a shine to it, and presumably wanted a closer look.  I stepped slightly towards her to confirm that no, it wasn’t from Paris; I’d actually made it myself so yes, I was sure of that and to thank her for her interest, as Mum finally decided that the walker handles were for holding and started pushing away.  Just as the other lady started lacing her fingers through the granny squares that made up my scarf…

Not for the first time I felt a little like I was in some weird sitcom as I tried to step in front of the walker with the bottom half of my body to stop Mum wandering off alone, while unwinding the scarf from my neck so I didn’t get strangled, at the same time as gently removing the lady’s fingers from the holes they had wound themselves through. There was not a purple tunic in sight.

Anyway, we managed.  We got to Mum’s room.  Mum decided she didn’t want to be there now, so we went back.  And the toast had gone.  So Mum sat in a comfy seat near the Christmas tree and I left her listening to carols.

I went to Dads and (I am rather proud to say) cooked 22 meals for him, from scratch in three hours. I did have to clean all surfaces – including the windows – before I left, but we’ll gloss over that.  (I already mentioned that on Facebook and Instagram, so sorry for the additional brag here if you follow the blog there 🙂)

So I did manage to crack on for part of the day, anyway 🙂