We’ve moved on a little in the Dementia saga.
Mum has settled to her new regime of carer visits four times a day.
Initially these were done by an assessment team who have handed the case over to an outside company who essentially do the same job.
After a few teething problems mainly around the meds safe, they seem to be doing a decent job.
They make sure she eats a few times a day, shower a few times a week and take her meds.
She sometimes forgets that they’ve come, and that Gill or I have been there too.
Medical visits are progressing and a new set of blood tests has just been taken.
We know she’s losing track of days, money, birthdays, and even what’s in the fridge.
However, there are enough people going in and out to provide the structure she needs.
We do her shopping and keep her medical dates and prescription reorders on our calendar.
She often mentions that she hates to take us away from the family and Ashley in particular.
We get over this by reminding her of a regular occurrence from my childhood.
When friends came around unexpectedly she would simply peel a few more potatoes and we’d make whatever was in the pot go a little further.
The expression became common later whenever friends arrived in the house:
“Throw a few more spuds in the pot, Mum, xxx is here!”
Her care, we pointed out, is for us like throwing a few more spuds in the pot for us.
Yes, we have a lot to deal with.
A little more doesn’t affect us.
She got it.
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