Forgetfulness – my turn

Posted on February 21, 2025 by thepogblog

Could it be dementia by association? (Peri?) Menopause brain fog? or just plain old general daftness?

I have an autoimmune thingy called pernicious anaemia.  It’s not terribly exciting.  It was at the start before it was diagnosed – it affects your nervous system and symptoms (for me) included my sight changing to ‘fly view’  – a bit like this…

…for a short while every so often, and the other interesting one where it feels like there is one giant magnet in your head and another on the floor and they are pulling towards each other and there is nothing you can do about it.  That one is quite awkward as you stay conscious so have the embarrassment of watching people watching you as you slowly fall over sideways.

Anyway, once you’re diagnosed, the solution is simple:  A B12  injection every 10-12 weeks depending on how fast your symptoms come back.  It usually starts with the tiredness before the fly eyes and the head magnet.  I didn’t mention that.  It’s a tiredness like your body s full of sand and you’re wading upstream through a river of treacle.

I have injections every 10 weeks and I never, ever forget because..well, see above.

I have never ever forgotten in over ten years.  Until this time.  And I forgot so much that it wasn’t until I was sitting in Brighton Pavilion Music Room listening to a string quartet play by candle light (amazing, but those Regency period folks clearly didn’t feel the cold.  We stayed in jackets, hats and gloves for the duration), that I noticed the organ pipes started moving in quite a fly vision kind of way…

I’ve had the injection now.  And soon I’ll be full of beans rather than sand and my head will stay upright and all will be good with the world.  And I’ll put a reminder in my calendar and an alarm on my phone for next time to beat the Dementia by association /(Peri?) Menopause brain fog / General daftness.

And I’ll thank my lucky stars that I only have to have an injection every 10 weeks (if I remember).  Until the 1950s, for those that survived pernicious anaemia (because it used to be a killer) were told to eat a pound of raw liver every day.  Which it turned out did absolutely nothing to help the situation.  And I imagine would be utterly impossible to forget too. 🙂

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The many Mummy W’s Tuesday

Posted on February 19, 2025 by thepogblog

Over the next four weeks it is Sister 1 and Sister 2’s birthdays (they’re twins), Mums and mine.

This Tuesday Mum and I cooked up a storm.  First last nights dinner (theirs, mine, Mr Rs and Stepson 2’s as I am still mid kitchen chaos and dust fest), and then some cheese straws, sausage rolls and brownies for Sister 1 & 2’s family party that we are having at Mum and Dads on Sunday.

We don’t tend to tell Mum about upcoming plans anymore as initially she becomes obsessive about when they are happening (and has lost all sense of days and times so can’t track the answers anyway) and then she gets so stressed by whatever it is that she is ‘sick’  and has to cancel.

But despite this, for some reason I told her we were cooking for the twins party and told her it’s nearly her birthday 🤦🏼‍♀️. I’m hoping that because it’s just family it wont be too big a worry for her.  It got us talking about age though.  And I’m always a bit intrigued about how mum views that these days.  She was really articulate in this conversation about it:

Most other conversations were a lot less articulate, and after getting rather overtired with the cooking (it turns out Mum is an expert mushroom peeler and cheese straw egg painter – we’ll gloss over the cheese grating which seemed to be based on ‘grate a handful, eat a handful), she needed a rest on the sofa. After a short while she came back into the kitchen where I was chatting to Dad to tell us, rather grumpily that ‘I don’t want to talk to anyone’, and then stood looking at us, presumably waiting for a response. 🤷‍♀️

Later that evening, dad reported back casserole we cooked was rather good, although Mum had insisted that she needed a cigarette afterwards as ‘I always have one after dinner’.  Which was true for a lot of her life but she gave up around 10 years ago. Apparently it did not go down well to be told that…

So we had many different Mummy W’s yesterday.  I guess it make Tuesdays interesting though 😁

Posted in Cooking, dementia, family, looking after Mum, memory, stroke, Tuesday, Tuesday TV | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

A touch of dust

Posted on February 15, 2025 by thepogblog

About three years ago our conservatory roof started leaking.  First a little, then the sort that required a bucket.  We were assured that the old style plastic roof that had been fitted around 10 years before we moved in 7 years ago had lasted far longer than it was designed to.  And if one of those giant Beachville seagulls took it upon themselves to drop a pebble on the roof it was so brittle we’d have more than a bucket sized leak. So we figured we should probably do something about that.

And the kitchen appliances that we’d also inherited started to get a bit grumpy so we knew we’d have to replace them at some point.  So obviously it made sense to rip out the whole kitchen and start again.  And take down a wall while we were at it.  Oh, and the floor too….right through to the lounge.

(And when I say ‘we’, we actually had nothing to do with it.  We left for a week in Cornwall three weeks ago and the most amazing team of builders entered).

We have gone from this:

(these were taken as we were emptying it.  It was usually marginally tidier)

To…(three weeks in)…this:


We have a couple more weeks left. And I wont lie – I wont miss trying to make three  dinners a night for a two veggies and one meat eater using my teeny tiny kitchen of two rings, a microwave and an air fryer, but actually, my temporary kitchen is about the same size as the one I had at Pog Towers.

And I wont miss washing up in the teeny tiny sink in the utility room.

And I wont miss having all the windows open when I cook so the house doesn’t stink of onions and spices.

And I wont miss eating in the office on a teeny tiny table.

And I wont miss spending all day in the office working and all evening reading or watching tv on a laptop because the tv is in the freezing, dust lounge (obviously we took the radiators out too). I really wont miss sleeping in the office the few nights I did because Mr R had some kind of lurgy and was a sweaty, sick mess.

But most of all I wont miss the dust. Because who the hell knew you could wipe and hoover and spray and dust and EVERYTHING only to find an hour later that the bloody dust is back again, over everything, even the bedrooms that have had their doors shut all the blimin’ time?!

But I know it is absolutely going to be worth it.  Three more weeks and I’ll be about to spend the weekend cooking up a storm with a stunning view, space to move, a conservatory room I can watch the stars through and an oven that actually wants to cook.  (There is the small issue that every new appliance is touch operated and my hands are so cold that I can rarely get my phone to do anything, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.. 😉)

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A Quite Lovely Tuesday

Posted on February 12, 2025 by thepogblog

This Tuesday included 30mph on the M23, Tesco, prescriptions, road closures, spaghetti bolognese cooking, and steam cleaning of floors.

(It also contained a bit of sulking, shouting and crying and  – possibly surprisingly – I wasn’t responsible for any of them).

But best of all, it also included a visit from two of Mum and Dads oldest friends, who many years ago, I adopted as my friends too.

Dad can’t do much chatting anymore because it makes him too breathless at the time and for a fair while afterwards and Mum sometimes gets a bit panicky when she has to talk to people now because of losing words, so I got to do lots of chatting with these very lovely people who I’d not seen in over a year.  It was very lovely indeed.

When Mum and Dad visit them, I’d been told they always get cake with their coffee.  My kitchen is currently non existent (that’s a blog post for another time) so, as I couldn’t bake, I bought a few treats in Tesco.  But it turned out I didn’t need to.  Dad had – for the first time in a very long time – baked a fruitcake for the occasion.  I was more than a little impressed.  And that was also very lovely indeed.

So for once, rather than Tuesday TV, here is Dad taking centre stage with the delicious cake:

Posted in Cooking, COPD, dementia, family, looking after Mum, memory, stroke, Tuesday | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Back after a break Tuesday

Posted on February 6, 2025 by thepogblog

I went away last week. I went to Cornwall.  It was…well, actually it was really, really windy and mostly very wet.  We even had two named storms while we were there.  But it was still stunning, as Cornwall is.

We went because Mr R was running a race.  Along the Cliff path.  For 50 miles.  Partly in the dark.  He won his age category, because he is a very fast weirdo.

We worked most of the rest of the time but we did also fit in the windiest walk I think I have ever been on.

And while we were there things got tricky with Mum and there was much messaging and collating of information and discussing and we’ve changed things up a bit.  Now Mum has one of me, Sister 1 and Sister 2 for a whole day every week. This includes outings and caring stuff and, well, a week in Mum seems to be having the time of her life.

Since my last post Mum also had her official diagnosis – Advanced mixed dementia (Alzheimers and vascular).  The doctor said the rest of her health issues make her too frail for any medication, and at this point it doesn’t make sense anyway.  I’m trying very hard not to be frustrated that had the assessment come though when I requested it (last July), we might have something more to show for it than a care plan that essentially says ‘it’s too late now’.  At least we can now understand why it’s progressed so fast – mixed dementia apparently moves faster than just one type.

So this week, after washing Mum and the now regular conversation of how many pants is the optimum number to wear at any one time, we picked out what else to wear.  I suggested the jumper she got for Christmas.  She said that was only for special occasions.  She didn’t realise it was Christmas at Christmas so saving it seemed more than a bit daft…so I pointed out that there was very little that is more special than having a Pog for a day and that seemed like the perfect reason to wear it.  And she agreed 😁

So correctly dressed we went on an outing, the highlight of which was wondering around a shoe shop when Mum shouted ‘Oh!’ then got the giggles.  She’d turned to face a mirror and told me she thought ‘there was a little old lady coming towards her’…then realised it was her reflection and couldn’t stop giggling.  Which got the shop assistants and other customers giggling too.  Between that and a few other incidents it was obviously all a bit much and when we got home she sat on the sofa and fell asleep, while I did the planned cooking and chatted to Dad.  We covered topics including the wingspan of buzzards and the bite of one of his Dads Boa Constrictors (because actually had three Boas and a selection of others too…). It’s like chatting to Google about nature, chatting to Dad.  Happily it was later reported that Mum and Dad thought the tomato, lime and coriander salsa was very fancy, but apparently Mum liked it a lot, and the chilli went down a treat with them both.

So all in all it was a good Tuesday.

🙂

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We need badges!

Posted on January 20, 2025 by thepogblog

I’ve had an idea. We need badges!

And now I will take a couple of steps back and explain myself:

Some of the time I spend with Mum is funny and some is daft and some is enjoyable and some…well, some makes me feel that inserting pins into my eyeballs would be preferable.

Because Mum can be sweet and, funny and cute…and she can be obnoxious and mean and really, really difficult.  And I totally get that ‘it’s not her, it’s her illness’ (although actually some of it is her as she wasn’t all sweetness and light years back if we’re being honest here), but it still doesn’t negate the pin / eyeball thoughts.

So I already told you on Tuesday I got up at silly o’clock, left at 6am, drove 50 miles, did Mum and Dads shopping, washed mum, fought about the required number of pants for one person, took mum to a memory assessment, had the memory assessment cancelled, waited an hour (with Mum asking every few minutes why we were waiting and why we were there and did she know the doctor and why were we there and why were we still waiting), then drove 15 miles to have the assessment in another town, had quite a tricky time involving tears and anger, and drove 15 miles back. Next I (finally) set up internet banking for them after trying for a few weeks, then I then cooked with Mum to make dinner for her and Dad and a portion to bring home for Stepson 2 (he’s a meat eater, Mr R and I are not, so it saved cooking two meals when I got home), and then I popped Mum in the car again (I should have known she was tired at this point and left her at home, but I really wanted to give Dad a break) and we drove to their surgery to pick up their prescriptions that Dad had ordered a week ago.

Dad drinks Ensure drinks to keep his calorie intake up as when you have COPD it takes a lot of calories to do the whole breathing thing and he eats like a sparrow.  Only he’d been short of drinks for a while and had only been having one every other day so this prescription was important.  And when we got there, the drinks had not.

‘They’ll be in later – or at least the next few days’ the receptionist said.

Dad can’t leave the house at the moment because the cold air affects his breathing.  My sisters both work, the surgery shuts for the longest lunch break that anyone has had since the 90’s, so I thought I’d try to persuade them to drop the drinks off to Dad as someone on the staff their had to go in that direction to get home… I explained the situation. I thought I might be getting somewhere, and then Mum piped up:

‘Don’t be silly, I’ll come and get them tomorrow’ she said.

‘Oh great, that’s that sorted then’ said the receptionist.

‘Mum, Dad, can’t come out at the moment – it’s too cold for him.’ I said

‘I’ll come on my own then.’ said Mum brightly and coherently.

‘You can’t drive anymore’ I attempted

‘YES I CAN’ Mum hissed back.  ‘Anyway, I can walk’

‘It’s 5 miles Mum.  With a big heavy box of drinks that you can’t actually lift’

‘I. CAN. DO. THAT.’

The receptionist at this point had found some fascinating paperwork to busy herself with.

I suggested that Mum take a seat while the rest of the prescription was sorted out and as she walked away, I very unkindly did this:

(There were no pins to hand and I do value my sight)

And I watched the receptionist judge me so loudly I could almost hear it.  Because it had become clear  in the last part of the exchange that Mum was in a muddle and possibly couldn’t understand whether she could drive or not and she deserved all the sympathy and empathy that someone with dementia should get.

BUT Jesus Christ! The day had been long and I was frazzled. The previous week had been even longer with things that were not Mum shaped and so I had a moment.  Just one, but I imagined the receptionist thought I was probably a pretty rubbish daughter.

And THAT is why we need a badge.  Like the ‘Bump on board’ badge that gives people the opportunity to give up a seat in the train for the pregnant lady without worrying that they might just have had a big breakfast (yes, I’ve done that 🤦🏼‍♀️), Or the sunflower lanyard for people with all types of disability so that they can be given appropriate support.  We need a A ‘I’m a slightly frazzled carer’ badge that doesn’t entitle us to anything other than the understanding that we are doing our best, but there might be a bigger picture to consider than what is currently on show.

Give me a few weeks.  I’m going to make this a thing 😁

Posted in COPD, dementia, looking after Mum, memory | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

The more than a small adventure Tuesday

Posted on January 16, 2025 by thepogblog

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 😬

Posted in dementia, family, looking after Mum, memory, stroke, Tuesday | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

The Tuesday and bonus Friday with lots of giggling

Posted on January 9, 2025 by thepogblog

Well, Christmas feels about three years ago now, doesn’t it?

I’ll just skip all that bit and share this weeks Tuesday TV with you – which was actually mostly last Fridays bonus day.

After a few initial hiccups with dressing (Mum has started her own unique style which melds together ~PJs with day wear and includes anything from no underwear to four pairs of kickers).  There was quite a lot of grumpiness both days when alternatives were suggested…

But we got back on track and highlights of the resulting Tuesday TV include:

  • Mum telling me that ‘one day you might be like that man’ (watch to see where that progressed to).
  • Loosing her glove.  Then possibly forgetting what it was she’d lost
  • And asking me to video her telling Stepson 1 that she’d made him a pie for his dinner then…well, you’ll see.

(Please listen out for Mum’s insightful and entirely accurate comment that the chicken wont make a noise anymore because it ‘got hot’ (we cooked it).  I couldn’t argue with that!)

🙂

Posted in Cooking, dementia, family, looking after Mum, memory, muddled life guide, stroke, Tuesday, Tuesday TV | Tagged , | Leave a comment

The visiting Tuesday

Posted on December 18, 2024 by thepogblog

I’d made two dinners – one meat (Boys), one veggie (Me and Mr R) by 7.45am this Tuesday.  I impressed myself.  And wondered if I’d peaked a little early.

After the usual bits back at Mum and Dads (Showering, hair washing, arguing over whether all clothes were necessary and a solo trip to Tesco), I took mum to see her Sister.  While she was there I rushed off for a speedy visit to some very, very lovely friends who I’ve not seen for years.  Unfortunately because I was feeling a little on the flustered side, I didn’t get a picture with them…but they took one of me and Percy 🙂.  It was a really good reminder that you can not see people for years (possibly 10 in this case 🤦🏼‍♀️), but when they are the sort that really matter, it’s like it was yesterday.

And then Mum and my Aunt took me though some old photos and letters, and memories.  I love those glimpses into the past.

And then back to plant up hyacinths for Dad – a little late, but better late than never.

And finally back to eat the dinners I’d cooked first thing in time for a family outing to….Elf the Musical.  😁

I think we raised the average family age considerably, and I was very grateful that there was a bar there.  I think that’s probably all I need to say on that.

Today I had a phone call from Mum.  She didn’t believe Dad that Christmas was next week so he’d called me for her (she can’t actually use the phone herself any more).  I’m not sure she believed me either.  It’s a weird thing – we’ve found mum gets fixated on what is happening next, so we have stopped telling her.  We’ve not been able to avoid Christmas though.  Apparently forward planning and the stress around it is something many people with dementia struggle with; another thing on this rather steep learning curve 😳

But next Tuesday it WILL be (almost) Christmas.  Lordy

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NOT for sharing

Posted on December 14, 2024 by thepogblog

My sisters and I don’t share food.  With anyone.  We suspect based on Mums ability to inhale cake and then snaffle our portions when we take her out for coffee. it may be something to do with our upbringing.  But whatever the reason, we just don’t share.

As I lived on my own for such a long time before moving to Beachville with Himself, it was never really an issue.  I didn’t need to hide treats – there was nobody else to eat them in Pog Towers (Norman Cat was partial to shredding mushrooms, but that wasn’t a major concern in the food stakes).

When I moved in with Mr R I had to establish some very clear ground rules that some food things were mine  alone and not to be touched if he wanted to continue the relationship. Stepson 1 and 2 were young then, so didn’t raid cupboards.  When they got a little older I made things very clear:  I would always, always make sure that there were snacks and treats for them, and I would never touch them.  But in return they were absolutely not allowed to touch mine.  Even if they were identical bars of chocolate, or more recently, tubs of fancy honey roast cashew nuts…

And they got it. And all has been good in the world of food allocation at Our Towers.

But now I am nervous.  It’s Christmas and the second locust (Stepson 2) lands today.  And what if he comes home from the pub and drunkenly forgets?  What if he eats my snacks?!

Yesterday I went to Marks and Spencer for a packet of Christmas biscuits (chocolate coated christmassy loveliness in a fancy pants tin).  I ate many, many tins last year.  I guess not enough though as this year they are nowhere to me seen.  So instead I settled on a ‘Mini Bites Selection’.  And then I panicked as it would be very easy for someone to assume they are for sharing.  And they might eat all the good ones.

So I’ve hidden them.

In the corner of the study 😀

Under the foot stool thingy:

And edited the label for 100% clarity:

I mean, these particular locusts can’t usually find a bag of carrots the kitchen cupboard when asked, but you can’t be too careful, can you?!

 

PS:  Obviously I have stocked up on everyones favourites. Nobody is going without while I stuff my face with sugar. They are just going without my treats 😉

 

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