There have been happier birthdays

Yesterday was Mum’s birthday. Another birthday we thought she might never reach.

Over a year ago we were told that she probably only had two or three weeks left to live. She had stopped eating – but it turned out that this was a temporary blip, and now there are days when carers proudly tell me how much Mum has gobbled down of her breakfast and lunch. I realise that this is ‘good’ in one sense and that they have achieved their goal of getting Mum to eat something. But there is part of me that always asks, ‘For why? Is that really for the best?’ And yet there is no other option, Mum is trapped in a life that she would hate; without any sentimentality she would wish there was a switch that could be flicked to end it. But life is not like that, so we take things at this pace, knowing that Mum is leaving us, slowly.

Mum has been bed-bound for about 2 years now. She sleeps often, or gazes into the distance, possibly out the window at the trees blowing in the wind across the road, possibly into the void. Her eyes, once as green as gooseberries, are now watery grey. Her right eye is always almost closed and looks inflamed and slightly puffy (a hangover from a botched operation years ago), so I focus on her left eye.

Until recently she would give me a great smile when I arrived, and she’d manage a few words. But recently she seems almost inert as she lies there. She occasionally follows me with her eye, but more often she just stares, unblinking, at nothingness.

Yesterday I opened the card I had just written and read it to her, showing her the illustration of balls of wool and knitting needles on the front. I read her a message from her wee sister in South Africa, and showed her the photograph of flowers from her garden. Mum barely responded, but I like to believe there was the glimmer of a smile which I hold in my heart.

There are so many other moments in her life I’d prefer to hold, but somehow I seem to have lost all of them for now.

Optimistically I assume I’ll find them again. In time.

The pictures at the top of this page are obviously from before I knew Mum – the one below is her as I know her now.

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Thank you for reading this.

Mostly I blog about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, so if that might be your thing, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.

Do get in touch if you have any questions or comments – I love to hear from you my lovely readers.

Tags: dementia, Mum Has Dementia