Non-Compliance

It's one thing hearing how agitated and distressed your mother is from a care worker over the telephone and it's another thing to see it for yourself.

New Year's Eve and the day after being told that mum had 'assaulted' a care worker and had been aggressive towards another resident. These are things you really don't want to hear about your own mother and I'm still reeling after hearing it the first time, even after seeing her myself today.

My wife and I visited mid-morning after the team would have gone through the normal morning routine of getting the residents up and cleaned, dressed and given their breakfast. What I was most acutely aware of was the environment that was due to greet us as we entered the day room. We recognise all the other residents and know most of their names now, as we do with the care team. There must be 7 or 8 different members of staff that we've seen in and out of the 'wing' that my mum is staying at and today we were greeted by two of the most regular of them. I may have been paranoid but I almost felt like the staff were a little stand-offish with us and her.

Mum did look rather distressed and we later found out that she had hardly slept, so is obviously exhausted from not sleeping. A couple of hours a night and a catnap or two during the day isn't nearly enough for her. One of the other residents - a very pleasant and the most vocal of the other ladies there - came in using her frame (she is still quite mobile) and showed off the huge bandage covering her hand. Immediately we put the two together - that mum had hurt this lady by scratching her, as had been reported to me over the telephone. An awful thing to have to think about but the lady seemed rather nonchalant about it, even going so far as to say she didn't remember how it happened. Later on, we were told by the staff that mum didn't hurt her at all and it was due to another accident, so this at least put our minds at rest, but begs the question why I was told such a thing in the first place.

Over the time we were there, she became very distressed. She would cry and wail and tell us terrible things. So, it was now that we saw for ourselves just how upset she has been lately. We were able to get her to her room but she couldn't go to the toilet on her own properly. An awful thing to have to witness but again, all part of her condition and state of mind now. Fortunately, those two members of staff helped us give her a wash down and change of clothes, but it was a very, very difficult thing for them to accomplish - and even worse for me to witness.

I have never seen my mother like that before. It is a terrible thing to have to see and be useless too. You have to hand it to the staff - they are trained in dealing with such patients (at least, this is what we are led to believe and we put our trust and faith in their capabilities of course), and it was good to see how they handled and comforted her during the process. I have to admit though, they've always exhibited the same approach to her and the other residents whenever we've been in the day room.

The problem is, which is what became evident after the first few days of her stay there, is the lack of sleep. She simply isn't sleeping long enough to be well rested. As a result, she is agitated and distressed and this in itself could be causing hallucinations and who knows what else. Right now, I expect she is still distressed and wanting to 'go home' and being very much non-compliant. She said herself many times, quite clearly, that she didn't like people telling her what to do all the time. You simply can't get her to understand that the staff are there to help her and not to harm her. We saw for ourselves how she didn't like them handling her, but she doesn't understand they are there to help her and make her feel better. She is rejecting their help and feeling distressed when they need to finish their job. It puts more strain on them and means mum won't get the help she needs. It's a vicious circle.

It was hard to take any positives away from today's visit. Tomorrow is New Year's Day, 1st January 2016 and we'll visit again. I hope that whatever distressed state she is in won't be a sign of things to come for the year ahead. But who knows, she might surprise us all.

The Assault

It's been a pretty rough end to 2015. After what happened at the end of 2013, my wife and I thought it really couldn't get any worse and it hasn't to be honest. The sadness we felt at that time can't be compared with anything before or since then, but I speak for myself when I say that. This December, it's just been worry after worry about things and I don't see how things will improve going in to the New Year.

I visited mum briefly the other day at the care  home. She was sat with her head in her hand, almost dozing off but perked up as soon as she saw me enter the day room. The other residents were sat around either in the big comfy chairs or at the dining tables behind. Apparently mum does ask for me or speaks about me a lot. Whenever I'm there she also makes a point of mentioning to whoever might be listening that I'm her son. This is a good thing, but I'm afraid this means I might be her only source of happiness, comfort, trust or 'compliance' and it worries me that I might not be up to the job if I'm needed for something important. I don't even know what I mean by that, else I can't quite put it into words...

The next evening, I spoke to one of the managers of the care home who, as was her duty, wanted to keep me in the picture about how things were going. My mum had apparently assaulted one of the staff and also tried to do the same with another resident. You can imagine this came as quite a shock and I didn't know what to say. It's a completely alien thing to be told that your 75 year old mother is being aggressive to other people. This of course poses some big problems going into the New Year and its potential effect on her discharge plan and ongoing care if she is to go home to dad.

I saw him today myself and he was looking well, but finding the house very quiet. I had a lump in my throat when I read the card he wrote to my mum: "Missing you" was what he wrote. I couldn't bring myself to read it to mum when I delivered it to her, but I had learnt at the time that she can't read either now.

On the subject of reading and writing, what made my heart sink today was getting rid of some old diaries going back to 1999 to around 2002, when she kept a regular diary going. In her own broken English, she would write things like how I might have popped home for lunch, or that she went to the doctors, or that dad was unwell. There were also things I read that I knew she wrote at the time but struck an awful chord with me reading them now - about how often she felt unhappy or unwell. I was in two minds about keeping them or discarding them, but decided that I'd rather not my father read them or anyone else, and made sure they were gone for good.

I plan on visiting mum tomorrow but feel acutely anxious about it. I know that the care team are trained and might even be used to such behaviour from the residents, but I'm told they are stuggling with mum and are looking for ways of making things better for them and for her, by way of one-to-one care which needs some assistance from the council or the state. This means that the team will be wary of her behaviour. I even feel guilty myself about mum lashing out and hurting someone else. She has always been a caring, gentle and loving human being but I keep wondering what things in her past might be brought to the surface through the dementia and as things worsen, she's being less and less compliant and denying the help being given by the home.

Next week will be the first week back at work yet I still have to take time out straight off the bat to take dad their for the re-assessment with the Continuing Care team. I expect by then though the GP will have visited her and maybe even a member of the Mental Health team given the recent incidents, but it's still another week until the formal assessment is carried out and goodness knows how long after that before any action it taken. What else might mum do while the days and weeks pass? Will she be even more upset and distressed?

Come mid-January, my wife will have Jury Service too - another worry, because I'll have to be away from the office and somehow look after our by, who will be 9 months old by then. Thankfully my in-laws will still be here for the first few days, but after that? On January 12th, mum is suppoed to leave the care home, but how will dad cope? How will any of us cope?

What are the next steps? As I approach the end of the year, 2016 will immediately start with me worrying about my mother's deteroriating behaviour due to the dementia, my father being home alone and missing her but not knowing the full story of what's going on, the arrangements with Jury Service, looking after our son and taking time off work or away from the office... to be honest, I feel pretty rubbish about things already, and only just managing to keep my head high and a smile on my face.

I keep telling myself that there are so many more people worse off that I and we are, and that things could also be a whole lot worse. So, we'll make the most of it - there is little you can do but get on and deal with it, and that's what I'll do.

A Different Christmas

This will be the first Christmas that I haven't spent with both of my parents present. It seems an odd thing to say given that I'm 36 years old coming up to 37 but I'm pretty sure I've never been away anywhere for Christmas and while it might have happened in different places, they were always together on the day.

My dad is recovering well after his surgery. The scars are healing up and he's back into some sort of routine at home, but has already expressed that the house is a bit too quiet. The next few days will be difficult- I really don't know whether he should visit mum knowing that she can't come home, and I'm not sure how mum will react seeing him and what will happen when we have to go.

I'm thinking back now to when I was young and now much time I'd spend looking around the house for presents my parents had hid away for me. We would usually let mum open her presents first and then I'd be the last. I liked to savour the moment, even from a young age. It was always a difficult thing buying stuff for mum. I do remember in recent years though - in the last ten years - before the dementia really kicked in - that we got her a coat that she really wanted. She was ecstatic. I still have the photos of her looking radiant. She was already loosing her hair and exhibiting some strange behaviours. This is what made the last years of my living at home with them really difficult, especially since dad had got through his nasty episode of Meniere's Disease and other problems.

Mum too had her own problems, but going back a bit further. I recently popped into the local chemist to pick up a prescription for my dad, and introduced myself to the lady there who knew both of my parents very well. She had been working there for more than 20 years and had seen both of them regularly over the years when they collected their various medications. The lady mentioned how she had a hand in saving my mum's life at one time. I do remember mum going through a period when she used to consume a lot of Alka-Seltzer tablets. She wouldn't take them in a glass of water or to help with any upset stomach , it was a habit that got out of control. Apparently, this lady in the chemist flat refused to sell it to her at one point. Very soon after that, she went into hospital with problems with an ulcer.

I remember that visit to the hospital quite clearly. There was a junior doctor listening to mum explaining what was happening. He looked very nervous. Whatever happened next was a blur but mum got the help she needed and didn't touch the stuff afterwards.

I can see in the photos that I've taken since that Christmas day I mentioned earlier how older and more frail she has become. Loosing her hair was a strange thing - but she also went through a period of looking for and picking out the white hairs. Another strange habit. In more recent years, she would polish her nails and use remover to clean them off, and then apply polish again. She's do this every day for a good few months. The last thing she appeared to give up was doing crossword puzzles. She'd be very good at those, until at some point the books were just left unattended.

It was very sad to realise that this was all happening but looking back now, I can see all the signs of dementia. The worse of it though was her behaviour. I had always believed that my leaving home was a big part of her going the way she did. Not having me there meant that her attentions were diverted elsewhere. Perhaps it was also evidence of a poor relationship with my father - this is something I had always considered. I do know how much they love each other but with their deteriorating health and day to day challenges as a result of it, I can imagine things were not particularly comfortable in that household anymore.

This year, mum won't even realise it's Christmas. Yes there will be a Christmas Tree in the common room, and tinsel and decorations, and Christmas music and TV shows, but she won't grasp the fact it's that time of year. She wouldn't know it if she were home either. Come Friday, my dad will dine with us and my in-laws, but mum won't be there. I wonder how he too feels about this, but I dread bringing up the subject given how emotional he is about everything that has happened in the past 6 weeks.

Truly a very different Christmas this time around.

A Heavy Heart

This week, much to everyone's relief, my father was discharged from hospital, the best part of 5 weeks since he went in. When I arrived at the hospital, he was already dressed and waiting to leave. He said a tearful Goodbye and expressed his thanks to the team that looked after him, and to one nurse who had been particularly helpful and considerate to him during his stay.

I too remember the same nurse on the day dad arrived. She had given us her name and asked us to call for her if we needed anything. Funny how she was there right from the beginning and was the last person we said Bye to at the end.

Mum's stay in the care home has been extended until January, which means dad now has time to get some rest and for us to sort out ongoing care arrangements. He has been staying with us but is keen to get home himself. We are a little worried about him being on his own but so long as he takes things easy, he'll be OK.

What I feel most anxious about today though is my mum. We haven't seen her since last Saturday when, on arrival at the care home, she was tearful and agitated, walking around the common room with only one sock on and - which was most concerning - had a small swelling on her left cheek. It has been many days and nights since we saw her but owing to spending time with dad and work commitments, we just haven't been able to get over to see her. I wonder how she will react when she does notice us coming in the room, like she normally does.

My wife and I are also conscious about whether dad should visit her. We've agreed it's probably not the best thing to do just yet. Dad isn't very mobile and his emotions will certainly get the better of him. Will mum even remember who he is? In the past when we've taken mum out with us for a few hours to give dad a break, she's even then began to forget him. It's been over 5 weeks now since they've been separated and I'm worried about the reunion. It's going to happen at some point, but I'm dreading the point at which dad would need to leave and leave her there...

In the background, my wife and I are coping best we can with our baby boy. He's now over 8 months old and growing stronger and stronger. He's gone from army crawling to almost being able to crawl on all fours, and he's able to pull himself up on things. Our flat is quickly running out of space. In the next couple of days, my dad will be able to go home alone but it's really a necessity, as my wife's parents are due to visit and stay with us over the Christmas break and into the New Year. I'm quite looking forward to that, but it's just a shame that my parents have to be separate in the way they are.

I also wonder how things will pan out for Christmas and the New Year with my mum. We've got dad sorted out, finally, and that's a good thing. Now my heart goes out to my mum - that poor frail being sitting there in a place she doesn't really want to be, and perhaps at times wondering why she's there and why we're not with her.

Indeed, despite the good progress with my dad, my heart is very heavy today.

1 Month Later...and Still Going

My father was supposed to be discharged from hospital this past Monday 7th December 2015. But, his released was delayed as the medical team wanted to conduct an echocardiogram or something similar to make sure everything was OK. So, it meant my father spent another night in hospital and it was 4 weeks that Tuesday morning that he had been there.

But, now he is back in the Coronary Care Unit, where he started. That Tuesday was not a good day for him - he had encountered breathing difficulties and pain, which sent the medical staff into red alert and he had been tended to by lots of different people during the day. This was a major setback.

The encouraging thing is that he managed to speak on his mobile phone with me that day. But, he was obviously desperately sad and was panicking about having gone back to square one. His emotions got the better of him and he could hardly speak. Keeping my own composure was important too. I think I've got used to these situations and know that I need to keep a level head myself, especially in his presence. It's totally understandable of course - he was on the cusp of being released and wants to go home, but now faces another potentially long spell in hospital. Long days and sleepless nights. But, he is in a good place and being looked after by the right people. Needless to say though, he won't be coming out any time soon.

Today I spoke with the lady from social services who had been helping us. There are some positive news where mum's stay in the care home is concerned. What I do need to do is sort out the finances - but thankfully this will be covered by mum's savings anyway. I have in the past couple of weeks started to get my head around understanding 'self funded' and the costs involved. Mum's stay in the home will be extended into January, all being well. This will give dad enough time to get out of hospital and get sorted, and for additional care in the community arrangements to be made. I do however have to wait for the letter from the council confirming the plans - and that's if it's approved at all.

And in the background, Christmas creeps up on us. Our son will be 8 months old this weekend. He is a beautiful healthy boy. We are very lucky, it has to be said, but trying to cope with our baby boy, managing dad in hospital and mum in the care home, and to top it all off, us wanting to find a new home (and have already accepted an offer on the sale of our flat), it's been a bit much. I wonder if at some point I'll start to crack myself.

The Positives

There are some positives to be had from what has happened over the past few weeks. What has been missing thus far of course is a full and proper assessment of mum's condition. Whatever help has been provided has only been on the basis of hearing what dad has had to say and by answering questions and filling a bunch of forms for people. Up until 3 weeks ago, no-one has been able to spend a significant amount of time with mum to understand things better.

What is quite apparent now:

• The social services team and individual support workers at the local council could not have properly understood the extent of mum's condition from their visits at home in mum's own environment. An hour or two in their company isn't enough.

• The cognitive impairment and dementia services team from the hospital would not have been able to understand the issues either from answering questions and taking notes on a piece of paper during their visits and assessments. Going in for an appointment and answering questions isn't enough for them to understand how things are. I went to one of these sessions and they could not have had a proper understanding of their requirements.

• Even my parents' GP would not have been able to understand the full scale of it. My dad can tell them the struggles he's had and how challenging it is looking after her, while mum would likely sit their cheerily not understanding what is being said. The GP would only be able to act in their best interests based on snippets of information.

It is the staff at the care home that have now had three weeks to understand the scope and extent of mum's condition, and of course what my dad has had to put up with for a long time now.

They are on the front line, hands on, 24 hours with her. They know her habits and her quirks. They have fed her, washed her, dressed her and tried - with some difficulty it seems - to get her to sleep at night. They can see and understand how she communicates with them and with the other residents and exactly what challenges are faced by someone looking after her.

Surely if they - who are trained to look after such patients - find it difficult or challenging, how is my father supposed to cope on his own at home and in his condition?

So what is next? How can we make sure of this valuable hands-on experience at the care home to properly communicate the needs to social services, the GP and the mental health team, all of whom are involved?

As for my father - he has had his heart bypass operation, not an insignificant procedure, but is in capable hands. I spoke to him 24 hours after the procedure and it was both heart warming and heart breaking. He was groggy and in pain, but at least he could speak. And we will not be able to see him for a few days while he recovers in ICU.

But, the worse is over with and the positive to come out of this of course is that, with proper rest, recuperation and support going forward, he will hopefully have been given a new lease of life. We have the cardiology team to thank for this. What would we do without the NHS?

It has become very clear to me now that I need the support and observation of the care home in order for the proper authorities to understand the requirements and to get the help both my parents need. They are the key going forward.

Week 3

I feel exhausted today.

It's now three weeks since dad had his heart/angina attack and since mum went into the care home where she still is. It is three weeks that they have been separated from each other - something which fills me with sorrow like nothing else.

Thinking back to that Tuesday morning 3 weeks ago, dad was being tended to by paramedics and mum was sat in her usual spot on the settee near the window wondering what was going on. The last they will have saw of each other since was when dad was in a chair being carried out the front door and into the ambulance.

I must admit being in a bit of a mess those first few days. I really didn't know what I could do. Since then, it's only been a matter of waiting and letting things take their own course. Right now though I still don't know what should happen in the coming weeks but at least things have made some progress.

My dad had a heart bypass operation yesterday. We saw him on Sunday and it was a terrible feeling when we left. You can imagine what he must have been thinking - that it might be the last time he saw any of us again. My wife was upset and my Aunt (his older sister) was trying to keep composed, but I knew she wanted to make a quick exit to avoid making things worse than they were. I imagine my father trying his best to keep calm while making his way back to the ward - back indoors where he's spent the last 3 weeks, not being able to see or talk to us often and of course not seeing his wife at all.

And all the while, mum is miles away in the care home wondering why she's there and when she'll be going home. Not understanding that dad is sick and isn't able to see her. It's true - she does remember now and then and does (according to the staff there) ask about him often.

Let's not forget that my wife and I are still being kept awake at night by our 7 month old baby boy. It's funny how that has been such a struggle for us at times, despite him being a beautiful healthy boy for the most part. I guess you just get used to it and adapt to the situation. But we really could have done without having to juggle mum being in a care home and dad being stuck in hospitals for weeks at a time.

My wife has been my rock throughout all this. I might not say it or she might not feel the sentiment, but it makes me feel truly lucky to have by my side while I've struggled to make sense of what's going on. It's just been a stressful few years for us and all this comes at a sensitive time - we have 2 years ago on our minds, which is something we shouldn't forget about. Despite the family problems, we are at a time when we are reflecting on what could have been, and the desperate time we faced 2 years ago with the first pregnancy.

Ahead of us now is thinking about dad's rest and recovery. This poses some challenges as he's not allowed to be discharged and go home unless there is someone around to keep an eye on him. He won't be in any fit state to look after mum and mum can't do anything to help him. So, we rely on the local council and social service to help with care in the community. It's something I'm dreading. But the sooner dad can get better, the sooner mum can get home again, and the sooner they can both get on with their lives.

Sadly though, the fact is that mum's condition won't get any better.

One Week Already

It has been over a week now since dad went into hospital and since mum went into the local care home.

Whenever we've visited mum she's been in her normal cheerful mood. This is all very encouraging. All of the members of staff we've seen have mentioned how well she has been getting on and how lovely and friendly she is. What has made me a little sad is that she doesn't mention dad in our presence, but appears to do so when we're not there. I wonder whether the longer she stays in there the more likely she is to forget about him completely.

And longer she may stay there, because things haven't been progressing to plan for my dad. One our last visit, a second MRI had not been carried out, and therefore no decision has been made about what procedure might be required. If anything does happen, it'll not likely happen until next week now, which means mum's stay in the care home will be extended. In turn this means the costs will continue to eat into their savings, and dad still will not have had the respite he desperately needed.

My dad was clearly very sensitive and emotional when we visited yesterday. He's in a place he doesn't want to be and is at the mercy of the staff. He can do nothing but wait and do his best to be patient and wait for the hours to pass. When we talked about mum, he was close to tears. When we left, he really was in tears. He surely didn't want us to have to leave.

I'm sure there wouldn't be any problem if and when the time comes for her to go home, but part of me worries about how she will get on being at home with dad again. She'll come away from a routine where she is fed regularly, has her clothes changed and washed regularly, and that she herself receives better personal care with washing and brushing her teeth regular - something which appears not to happen at home with dad. She won't have the same interaction with other people either.

While this has been going on, my wife and I are doing our best to cope with a 7 month old baby boy who appears to have this eating routine a bit mixed up. Despite best efforts, he's not eating very much during the day and is waking up 5 or 6 times in the night and not settling without a feed. The strain is on my wife of course but at least the little lad is taking pureed food and bottled milk more now, so we just need to feed him more where possible during the day, or look at changing our tactics.

We also have in the back of minds the fact that this time of year is the anniversary of the tragic events that happened 2 years ago. As fortunate as we are to have a beautiful, health baby boy, we cannot forget that he may well have had an older brother who would be a year and a half-old already.

This really has been a challenging year so far.

The Empty House

It was a curious thing going into my folk's place to find it empty. I can't remember the last time neither of them were home. I'm sure it will have happened in recent years when they were both at a hospital or doctor's appointment and I might have popped home during a lunch break and got there before they did. But besides that, it has been many, many years since they weren't there. And it's certainly the first time in what must be perhaps 15 years or more that they have not both been there during the night.

It is now the fith night since my mum has been in the care home and the fifth night my dad has been in Hammersmith Hospital. They're both away from each other and in places they'd rather not be. My father had a better night last night than he did before but he'll not likely get a good sleep in the coming days, because he know has a date for what will be a double heart bypass operation.

But I'm positive about that. I know he'll be scared being there without us - I'll be at work, my wife will be at home with our son and my Aunt, his sister won't be able to get up there easily (ours is a very small family unit) - but it'll happen and he'll come through the other side. I'm sure he'll be a new man once he's had time to recouperate.

What I'm not so positive about is how things will pan out for mum in the care home. We've visited a few times and can't say we're 100% confident in the care team providing the support she needs. It's certainly a good, safe place for her to be and she appears quite happy. But there are little thing that give away what could be poor performance on behalf of the staff and commitment to their jobs. Mum appears far more gregarious and outgoing compared to the other residents. The other ladies there appear far more docile so we expect mum can be quite a challenge.

We are also concerned about the initial reports we've had about her behaviour. It's something we haven't expected and naturally comes as a shock. I'm worried most about whether she is dressed properly (we have fears about that), whether she eats well enough (we know how difficult she is with us, so must be doubly so in unfamiliar surroundings and lots of distractions) and whether she can keep herself dignified and clean (we know her habits at home, so potentially could cause herself some embarrassment, even if she doesn't realise it, being in a place and not knowing where to get to a toilet).

She forgets, of course. The saddest thing is that she doesn't realise dad is in hospital. And if we tell her, she'll naturally want to go and see him. But really, it's not something we can do just yet.

When I popped into their house earlier today - into the home I grew up in - it was cold and dreary. I felt quite sad. Seeing their personal effects in their usual place, collecting dust and unusued put things into perspective. The house itself hasn't been kept up properly for years now. Dad hasn't been able to do it on his own - his eyesight has deteriorated as well as his physical fitness and mum hasn't lifted a finger for years because of the dementia. But, with the place empty it's our chance now to get in there and clean the place from top to bottom. At least this way when they get home, they'll come back to a place which is spick and span.

But who knows when that will be. Dad will need time to recover from his operation and won't be in any fit state to look after mum. And what will mum do? It is the right thing to do to have her go home and be looked after by her husband, who shouldn't have to stress himself over caring for her?

This is where social services and the local council come in to play. They really need the help. It's up to us to sort things out best we can for both of them.

I will go to bed tonight safe and sound in my own home. My parents will be away from each other in places they don't want to be. Even mum understands something isn't quite right about where she is.

Day Two

Yesterday morning I called into the care home to see how mum was doing. She had spent her first night there and I was worried about her sleeping habits (based on what dad had told me) and that she'd likely be up several times in the night to want to use the toilet - and finding herself alone and in an unfamiliar place.

They patched me through to what must have been the common area where she was chatting with the other residents. Even though she said she was OK and had lots of new friends, her voice gave away her true emotion - that she didn't understand where she was and why she was there. I told her that dad was in hospital and of course she wanted to see him. But it's just not possible. I wonder what she thinks when she's sitting there with the others, or sitting in her room doing nothing.

Whenever she is at home, in her usual place at the end of the settee nearest the window, she'd tell us that she's been in the garden or cleaned the bedrooms or done some thing or other. But she hasn't, of course. It's all in her mind. But at least this way, other people can properly assess her and see just how developed her condition is. We were told a couple of months ago that she has 'moderate dementia in Alzheimer's'. That would of course have been when she was fed, relaxed and in her own environment with dad. Now they're separated. On the telephone, she even asked me if I wanted to speak with dad - she didn't even realise where she was.

As for dad, well he has his own things to think about. The doctors have told him he'll need heart bypass surgery, and that it'll happen next week. So he'll be in for a good while yet. As a result, we've managed to extend my mum's stay in the care home. But it comes at a cost of course. It's crazy how these things are calculated but we're at the mercy of the system.

What scares me even more than dad having surgery is how mum is treated and how she copes being there. I know dad will have a positive outcome. I think we all just need to stay positive for everyone's sake.

Heart Attack?

Today, my dad had was suspected to be a heart-attack. It happened 4 days before mum was to go into care so that he could get respite.

I don't know if it's a good or a bad thing that it happened now and not when he would have been alone. Mum doesn't know how to use the telephone to dial 999 but was able to get help from a neighbour.

I was alerted to the problem after my wife had called me, and sounded quite hysterical on the phone. My dad managed to call home and speak to her as he knew the number by heart. By the time I got to their place, the paramedics had arrived and were checking him over. He was in a lot of pain and barely managing to speak, but settled down over the course of being reviewed.

He was taken to Hammersmith Hospital. Mum didn't quite understand what was going on. She kept asking who it was in the driveway, and I kept telling her it was the ambulance. She remained in her usual spot on the settee - at the end nearest the window, with her hands in her lap, looking to and fro and wondering what was happening. It was truly heartbreaking.

The only course of action was to have her stay at our place with my wife and son. After taking her there, I made my way to Hammersmith Hospital - and what a pain that is. My wife and I made numerous visits to Queen Charlotte's in years gone by and it wasn't a place that evoked nice memories. The parking charges are horrendous - the last thing you want to think about is having enough coins and checking the time for the parking when you're in the hospital for other more important reasons.

It also made me think back to that time when dad was in intensive care, but I was much younger - possibly nearly 30 years ago now. It was awful, I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could. I didn't realise at the time of course how worried my mum would have been. Now, she doesn't even realise he's in hospital.

She is in fact in the care home she intended to stay at starting at the weekend. It was such good fortune that my Aunt managed to speak to them and they agreed to take her today. So, after staying with dad for a while and leaving him in good hands, I got home and my Aunt and I took mum to the care home, which thankfully is local.

Leaving her there wasn't as hard as I expected. Dad had already prepared things in advance so we had collected clothes and toiletries for her, and in another stroke of good fortune the pharmacy had her advance supply of medication ready, so I picked that up and they were good to go. After staying with her in her room - which was very nice indeed - the Manager introduced her to the other ladies in the common room. And it was simply a matter of telling her we'd see her later, and off she went.

To be honest, I think I worry more about whether mum will be OK in unfamiliar surroundings and whether she'll be looked after properly than my dad who is responding well to the treatment he's been given (as I was told when I phoned up this evening to check on him) and is in safe hands.

Let's see what tomorrow brings...

A Busy Time

My father has been making good progress with social services. They recently had a visit from someone who was able to look at arranging for help at home and for mum to be taken into care for a couple of weeks a year.

Since then they have made arrangements for mum to be looked after for a week in a local care home.

This idea of mum spending time away from home terrifies me. I know how tough it would be for my dad too, even though this is exactly what he needs, which is some rest and time to himself. But he'd still be worried about her being away from familiar surroundings.

Thankfully my Aunt was able to be there when the social worker visited each time. They had a lot of forms to fill in. I'm quite surprised by this considering the age of the people expected to complete them. There were lots of difficult questions and a lot of documents to manage.

What we are all most concerned about is mum living away from home for several nights is whether she'll be properly taken care of: particularly, that she takes the medication or vitamins she's suppose to take, that she eats well and regularly, that she uses the toilet when she needs to, and of course that she feels safe and comfortable.

The home being offered apparently specialises in care for dementia sufferers. Best of all is that it's very local - easy enough for my dad to get to and easy enough for us to visit. But we'd need to make sure the team are fully aware of her habits and what she needs. She can't simply be left on her own to do what she wants. She'll be confused and wondering where my dad is. But I'm also conscious of the fact that very soon after being there - a matter of hours - she'll probably forget about him altogether. I wonder then what would happen when the week is over and she goes back to her own home...

But, we need to try it out. Dad needs the breathing space. I really hope this works out and it's just something we have to go along with now.

Not only that, but my wife and I are looking for a new home. We had put our home on the market and accepted an offer, but we're in no rush to move and certainly won't jump at a properly just for the sake of selling the home quickly.

So, with our baby boy going through interesting times (weaning and teething), mum and dad's arrangements with respite and the care and getting our heads around selling and buying a property, there is a lot going on at the moment.

Hello, Granddad

Unlike my other half, I didn't have living grandparents. I've seen photos but that's about it. I feel for my own parents that their parents didn't have a chance to see me, and I think this makes it all the more special for my parents especially to have seen and held their grandchild in their lifetime.

To be honest, I never expected to be in the situation I am now. I thought that marriage and families happened to other people, and I was convinced, or rather became to accept the idea that I wouldn't marry or settle down or start a family. But, it's happened. And if it's happened to me, it could happen to anyone.

I remember when our little lad was delivered in the hospital. Sadly I wasn't able to cut the cord - it was wrapped around his neck and the medical team had to ensure he was checked out in good time. He didn't cry either. This was rather worrying for us, but after a jab of vitamin K he did give out a healthy yelp and it wasn't until some days later at home that his lungs cleared properly and he found his voice - and what a voice it was!

Perhaps my proudest moment of that Sunday 12th April 2015 was calling my father to let him know the news. We didn't mention that we had been in hospital that Sunday and had only spoken the night before. When he answered the telephone, I said "Hello, granddad". I'm pretty sure he had a lump in his throat.

We were lucky to be home the next day, Monday 13th April. That Sunday night was the last night of decent sleep we've had since. The first few days at home were particularly difficult. You simply lose track of time - you don't brush your teeth, you forget to eat, you don't have time to wash, you don't know whether you have food in the fridge. All focus is on this incredible little being, another person in the house and the reality hits you that it's another member of the family, solely reliable on you as a parent.

I have learnt since then that some fathers are afraid to hold or assist with all things baby-related, so I'm so glad I got stuck in early on. Changing nappies and dressing the lad was difficult at first but the whole thing came naturally to us both. We were worried we wouldn't be able to cope or know what to do, but the truth is the whole thing clicked, even if there were still of lot of things we had to learn.

Now, he is over 6 months old. It's not got any easier. In fact, looking back now, it was indeed difficult back then because we didn't know what we were doing. Now we do but our lad is being quite a handful already. He's rolling over onto his back and wriggling a lot, so changing nappies and dressing him can be a challenge, and he has what is perhaps a little of the 'separation anxiety' that we've read about. He does demand a lot of attention and cries a lot when he's not being tended to.

We've also started weaning. First week it was carrots and he's now on to parsnips. We'll try potato and avocado next, and he loves drinking water already. All this points to him demanding less milk from my other half, which in turn will mean she gets a bit more rest.

Time flies.

Moderate Dementia in Alzheimer's Disease

My dad is making good progress with social services and the mental health team from the hospital. It's making things all the more real and it's making me feel rather worried about how the next few months and years will pan out.

In the past month they've had visits from the hospital's mental health team and social services, to review their current condition and arrangements and plans for the next steps.

We were at their place when a copy of a letter arrived from the hospital. It outlined the following:

1. That mum's diagnoses is "Moderate Dementia in Alzheimer's disease with late onset". I'm not entirely sure what the late onset means but it's encouraging to learn it's only moderate. Then again, I know it's not going to get any better.
2. She is in good spirits but seems distracted, was unable to follow the conversation and doesn't understand her illness. Although, she does mention often to me that she forgets things, so she is at least aware of that.
3. That she needs constant supervision and help with activities of daily living. That much I know already, and puts into perspective how much dad has to cope with.

The plan from here on involves:

They need a care package
This will be a massive help to my father who needs rest and time to himself. It must be terribly difficult for him to cope nowadays, and I really feel it when I hear his tone of voice when we chat sometimes.

They will be considered for referral to a day centre
Again, this will help out dad - but I'm really concerned about the reaction my mum has to being in a strange place with strange people. She's certainly welcome being able to speak to other people and will make friends. I'd be concerned too about how she is looked after.

To continue taking Memantine.
I didn't know what she was prescribed, but this is something I can look in to now.

Arrange a carer assessment for dad
This is good. I do believe dad receives an allowance to help with taxi costs and other bits and pieces. I don't know really know what would happen at a carer's assessment, so I should try to be at the next one.

I regret not being there to understand what medication mum is taking etc but this letter has been such an eye opener for me. I really hope this means we can make good progress in giving them the help they need - and I want to be there at every step to understand what the plan is.

3 Month Old Baby with Chicken Pox

Just as expected, he's got chicken pox.

2.5 weeks, my wife was in the midst of an awful bout of adult chicken pox and it made for a unpleasant time for us all. She's still covered in spots but not feeling unwell, so she's over the worst of it. But now our little man, only 3 months old, has got chicken pox good and proper.

He had been agitated over the weekend - not settling well and only being content while feeding - and on Monday showed more signs of spots on his face and scalp. By the time I got home that evening, he was covered in them. Face, belly, back, arms and around the groin and bum. Not good!

This has made for another exhausting few days and nights. My wife has hardly had any sleep since Sunday night for worrying and needing to be feed him. People keep telling us that "things will get better", but when?

We thought we had a bad enough time those first few days at home with him when we were getting the hand of being new parents. We thought it couldn't get any worse after the pox saga earlier in the month. At each one of these challenges we've found ourselves saying "this is the worst it's been so far", but maybe it's just because we're just too frazzled. People often say things when emotions are high but thankfully we've managed to keep ourselves and each other sane.

We've been quite OK with the night-time routines with waking, changing and feeding 2 or 3 times, but these last few days have been a real struggle. Calamine lotion, Calpol - my wife has even been taking Piriton in the hope that it may go through to him and help with the itching,

Poor fellow - he can't tell us what's bothering him and we don't know what we should be doing to help!

Alzheimer's Society

This week I did a little reading up on what help is available out there for dementia sufferers and those that look after them.

During the last few telephone calls with my father, he's mentioned how my mum is beginning to act 'weird' and I'm worried what this actually means. Her condition is only going to get worse but this year I've hardly spent any time in their company due to starting a family of my own, so I can't tell just how bad things might be over there (or indeed whether dad might actually be exaggerating things - I know how stressful it can be sometimes and he's not likely to say positive things when I happen to speak to him when he's feeling tired).

The sad thing is that they don't live far away and I should be visiting more often, which I do regret.

What I have noticed is that mum doesn't seem to quite understand she has a grandson. She forgets, of course. But if we speak on the telephone she'll mention how the baby is (and she knows my wife's name) but when we visit she seems confused that there is a baby in the house, asking who it is and what's his or her name. The bittersweet thing about this is that she'll be overjoyed at seeing him and realising it's her grandson, and her mood lifts tenfold (as does my father's, actually). With the recent illnesses at home with the wife's chicken pox, we haven't been able to take our lad over to see them and that is now the thing I look forward to most, but is only possible once my wife makes a full recovery and if our lad is fine himself.

I know my father has taken steps to contact social services and have the necessary assessments, but everything has taken so long and they're not much better off for it. He is struggling with his own problems of course - and is being registered on (if he isn't already) on the partially sighted list. At some point he's going to struggle walking up the road on his own due to his failing eyesight. I already see the affect at home - he does his best to keep the place tidy but the dust and grime is something which will only get worse too. As a way of reviewing and looking again at what help is out there, I did a little research and hope to make some calls myself to find out what can be done.

I had a read over the Alzheimer's Society website and the huge amount of threads posted by people sharing their stories and asking for advice. A lot of it puts things into perspective and I realise that things aren't as bad as they could be, and that some people out there are far worse off that my mum and dad are. If my father wasn't a mobile as he was or if his own mind deteriorated enough that he couldn't keep things organised at home (washing, cooking, cleaning, administering medication etc) then things really would be tough.

The terrible thing is that it's likely it's going to happen eventually anyway. He won't be able to keep going forever. What are we all going to do when that time comes?

These Things Are Sent to Test Us

"I'd rather give birth 10 times that go through that again" (Mrs)

Friday 17th July. It has easily been the worst 7 days for us so far this year. My poor other half has had to ensure a terrible time. Actually, I don't think I've felt as emotionally and physically drained myself since the end of 2013...

It all started a week ago on Thursday afternoon when my wife said she wasn't feeling so well. She put it down to her lunch not agreeing with her, but that wasn't the case at all. I had already booked off the Friday afternoon (the day after) as our little lad was due to have his second round of vaccinations. That Thursday evening she had the chills, a high fever and the bed linen was soaked through with sweat during the night.

By the morning she was aching all over and coming out in spots - her temperature was 39 plus and a call to our GP surgery results in an earliest possible appointment of the following Thursday, a week later. This isn't any good at all, but seeing as we're seeing a nurse for our lad's jabs that afternoon, we'll ask whoever we see there.

Come Friday afternoon and we're worried how our little man is going to react. The first time he had jabs, I wasn't present but I'm told he screamed the house down, the poor thing. My wife is understandably anxious and with her feeling unwell, it isn't helping things. Fortunately our boy takes the jabs well (one in both thighs and a couple of does orally), but we're told he's likely to be agitated and might have a fever himself at some point.

This was worry number 1 - our boy's reaction to his jabs!

We ask the nurse about my wife's fever and spots - and she says it looks like chicken pox! By then we had already done a little investigation and thought it might simply be a case of postpartum sweats and changes in hormones. In other words, something new mums might have in the weeks or months after giving birth.

This became worry number 2 - my wife having chicken pox, what it meant for her health and it's affect on our boy since he's already susceptible to fever from the vaccines and that he's being breastfed.

We pay a visit to the NHS walk-in centre on Saturday but only manage to see another nurse. She isn't much help (when we ask about breastfeeding with the condition, we're pretty sure she responds with "I don't have children so cannot comment"!) and advises using calamine lotion - a piece of advice we receive several times over the next days which is no help whatsoever. So, we haven't yet seen a doctor, can't get an appointment with our GP surgery for a week and it's the weekend too. Things are not looking good.

By Sunday, my wife can hardly walk or handle our baby properly. She is covered in spots and emotions are high in the household as a result of the stress and anxiety caused by the illness. I have avoided visiting my folks to help with the weekly shop as we've been worried that I might carry the illness over there. If either of my parents develop a fever or worse, it's not an exaggeration to say it could be life-threatening for them. Their health and well-being is something I haven't updated on for some time - that'll be for another post here.

It was also my mum's 75th birthday on the Saturday of that weekend. She doesn't even realise it's her birthday when I tell her over the phone, but that's not a surprise anymore. I tell her several times that we can't come over because my wife is ill, but she simply forgets it a few minutes later. I wonder had dad is coping but he doesn't give anything away and the tone of his voice suggests he's doing OK for the time being. He's had good news in recent months relating to his hearth condition, but again that deserves it's own post.

Our home is quickly stocked up on calamine lotion, antihistamines, and gels and bath oils to ease the pain. It's amazing how much money you can spend on remedies. The spots are not itchy, but painful. Might it even be chicken pox? What if it's something else? What if she develops other complications?

Sleeping, eating and feeding our baby is difficult for my wife. We've gone so far as to use an old shirt of mine and cut out hole in front so our lad can latch on without being in contact (as much as possible) with the spots! We try to express on a couple of occasions but it's tiring work. At least our boy doesn't reject the bottle.

After a discussion with NHS 111 again (we've made use of the service several times already) we finally manage to get referred to the hospital. This causes its own problems - her face is swollen and throbbing from the spots and hardly wants to be out in public looking like that.

Even the visit to the hospital proves useless. We see someone over an hour after our allotted time and the guy doesn't pay much attention to her condition or the fact that her immune system is low and we have a 3 month old baby boy that she's breastfeeding. We're sent on our way - including that all important mention of calamine lotion again - and all she can do is wait it our and suffer.

At this stage, we're both at a low ebb. We're tired, stressed out and anxious. And as it's Sunday, I wasn't exactly looking forward to going to work. In fact, there is no way I could have done under the circumstances, so had to book holiday days in order to stay at home and help out. I spent most of the next days doing as much as I can around the home - cooking, cleaning, shopping, picking up prescriptions and keeping the house in order, which wouldn't be so bad if I weren't so anxious about having a sick wife and keeping an eye on the little guy. We get so far as having to cut up meals and feed her - at one point she could hardly hold a knife and fork on her own.

Thankfully, our little man appears unscathed so far. He hasn't been as agitated as we feared from the jabs, he hasn't had a temperature or fever and hasn't shown any signs of spots. But, lo and behold, at 3 months of age, he decides it's time that he rolls over onto his stomach on his own.

And so we reach worry number 3 - our baby boy is rolling onto his belly whenever we put him down, and is doing the same during the night.

This might sound like a positive milestone and it is a great thing to know our guy is able to do this already, but when you're trying hard to keep things together without breaking down completely, losing sleep over keeping an eye on a rolling baby in the cot is something we could do without!

This has meant that the last couple of nights have added to our anxiety. It's been a relief that the chicken pox has eased off and my wife is more mobile and able to sleep more comfortably, and without drenching the bed with sweat. Normally, we put our little guy on his back and he sleeps soundly. Now, we're having to keep tabs on him every now and then and have found him half-way up the cot and on his side or his belly. It's really too early for us to leave him to sleep like that. We have spoken to a health visitor who suggests that seeing as he's strong enough to roll over and move his arms and head, he should be OK. But, we're just not confident enough yet to leave him to sleep in that position.

In another week we hope to be able to look back on this and put it down to bad luck. Another thing my wife said was that she wondered what she had done to deserve it. We've been so lucky to have a beautiful, healthy boy but she's had to endure other hardships that are so unfair. Every time we think things are finally improving, something knocks us for 6. I guess this is all part and parcel of our own journey through parenthood, and just our luck.

3 Months

13 weeks

It's been a while since I posted anything here and I do regret not having kept momentum with this blog. My last post was made a few days before the due date of our baby boy. It was an understandably tense time for my wife and I had plenty of things on my mind too.

The due date was Saturday 11th April. We had been advised to return on Friday 10th for further monitoring in triage and to see an Endo doctor in light of my wife's gestational diabetes, to ensure everything was going OK with her and the baby. The team suggested we should be booked in for an induction. Looking back now it was a stroke of good fortune that they couldn't see us until Monday 13th April, as the events of that weekend will testify.

The due date, Saturday 11th April, was spent very much as normally as possible. We visited my folks in the morning and did the weekly shop for them. Then my wife and I went to the Toby Carvery for a roast lunch. If I recall correctly we also picked up some Thai food in the evening - something spicy in the hope it would move things along.

Sunday morning, my wife wakes up a couple of times to visit the toilet and experiences a new set of pains. These contractions were definitely stronger in pain and more frequent. Not taking any chances, we call ahead to triage and make our way there - it proves a struggle for her to even reach the car, but we're well prepared and have everything for the hospital packed and ready in the boot, and a car seat too.

She spends a couple of hours in triage and in a lot of pain. We're moved to the labour ward by around 9am or 10am and are assigned a midwife who, luckily, is present with us the whole day and her whole shift, so no changing of the guard. My wife has an epidural to ease the pain. Things really start happening from 3pm onwards and at 5:06pm, Sunday 12th April 2015, our baby boy is born into the world.

It really has been a rollercoaster of emotions and we've experienced some very tough times since then. I will want to spend some time to reflect on that in another post and describe how much of a positive impact that has had on my family. But only in the last week have things really become tough owing to my wife having a bad case of adult chicken pox. It really has made the past week a grulling and emotionally and physically draining period, especially as it's come at a crucial time in our son's development.

I really do hope things improve from here.

Just a Few Days Away

Triage

As I write, this my wife is 4 days away from the due date our baby boy.

It's been a rather tense couple of days over the Easter break. Baby is still moving around but the movements have been different, which has prompted us to visit triage a couple of times for monitoring. We also have a couple more visits to the hospital lined up in the coming days and we may end up looking at being induced.

Right now, my wife is in good shape but finding it very difficult to move around. Pain in her belly, pain in her back and pain in her calves. But, we're on the last leg and it's just a matter of time before we welcome the new member of the family - and quite honestly I can't wait for it! As nervous as I am about the whole thing, I have confidence in my wife being able to do the business and I have confidence in the staff at the hospital giving us their support. What I most look forward to is being able to hold my son in my arms.

3 Weeks

It's a boy, mum

We are less than 3 weeks away from the due date. I'm getting more and more nervous but what I'm feeling can't compare to what my wife must be thinking and feeling.

Everything appears normal so far - we had the last of our scans recently so there will be no more checks now, besides a couple more midwife and GP visits scheduled. We have a car seat - very important - and some nursery furniture at home ready to receive our baby. All that remains is for us to wait and hope for the best.

I can't help thinking that had things went differently with the first pregnancy, our son would nearly be a year old already. My parents and my wife's parents and us as a family all would have been looking forward to his first birthday. But, these things happen and right now we have another chance and are gearing up for that life-changing moment when a new member of the family arrives.

People often say or tell us that we'd make great parents but deep down I think we both fear that we won't do a good job. We're told things will come naturally and that we'll get the hang of things, but how do we really know until the time comes? My wife admits herself that she can be a bit of a pessimist - she'll more likely think of the worse and what can go wrong. That doesn't mean she doesn't hope for the best of course but perhaps she's just too much of a 'worrier'. I'm concerned too that I won't be able to do the right thing or to look after my boy. Maybe we should stop overthinking it and just take it as it comes.

It's good that my parents are also in a good enough state to be around when the time comes. I'm already thinking about that moment when I call my father to tell him that his grandson has arrived, and to collect them and to take them both to the hospital to meet their grandchild. I am hoping this has a big positive effect on my mother. Perhaps it's that thing she needs to help her drag her out of that illness that's been holding her back for the last few years - something for her to focus on and think about. I'm sure that even in her condition she'll realise that we have a child and I'm hoping that she'll remember his name.

That is another thing we've been racking our brains over - a name. I didn't imagine how hard it is to think of a name for a child but we've managed to compile something of a short-list. I have the feeling that we won't actually decide on the name until he actually arrives.

My wife mentioned pointed out something the other day. Every time we mention to my mum that we're having a boy, she is ecstatic - she has of course forgotten that we already told her. This is probably one of the better things associated with her condition, if you could even say there was one. That being told some good news is something of a joyful experience for her every time she hears it.

It's just a matter of time now.

The Expectation and the Reality

The image in the mirror

A couple of weeks ago I read an article about dementia and I'm kicking myself for not keeping hold of it. It talked about ways of making things easier at home for sufferers and it made me think of the current living situation and day to day things my folks live with.

The article mentioned something about mirrors and how that might have an affect on dementia sufferers - specifically how they might envisage themselves as being younger than they are and being frightened or shocked by the image staring back at them in the mirror. The article suggested removing mirrors from around the house to tackle this particular issue.

So then I thought about the mirrors they have in the house. In their bedroom, opposite the bed are their wardrobes with mirrored doors. They do also have a large mirror in the bathroom of course. So these are two potential problem areas but I wonder how mum feels herself when she looks into them.

This has also got me thinking about the photos we've taken that I've shown her straight after. I do recall on a couple of occasions taking a photo her with my phone, or a photo of us together, and she has mentioned about how old she was. Perhaps this is evidence that she perhaps doesn't really how much she has aged and doesn't like seeing the photos we've just done.

This is really sad. My mum has always been photogenic - she loved taking pictures, and has the nicest smile and bright eyes. But some photos I've taken, especially when they're 'natural', off guard and un-posed you really can see the difference. Whenever she does smile, it really is the nicest thing.

The next time I visit my folks I might see how she manages herself in front of a mirror.

7 Weeks To Go... or Less?

The countdown

The closer we get to the due date, the more I'm beginning to worry myself about the whole thing. Since the start of the year my wife has undergone a number of scans and has had a whole lot of blood taken for tests. The gestational diabetes we are monitoring and things seem to be OK where that's concerned - the levels are not too high and her change in diet has meant she's actually lost a little bit of weight.

But, this in itself isn't such a good at this stage of the pregnancy - she is supposed to or expected to put on weight, especially in the final stages. Our baby is however growing quite well and in fact (according to the sonographer) appears to be a little ahead of its gestational age by a couple of weeks. This in turn means we're beginning to think whether our due date might actually be closer than we think.

So, my wife is losing weight, which isn't ideal, but our baby is bigger than expected at this stage, which isn't a bad thing really, and she needs to cut down on certain foods while trying to get more vitamins from others, which is difficult. There are so many things to think about!

I recently popped in to see my parents. I try to get there during the week a couple of times a month, as well as seeing them on the weekends. They were both in good spirits and I'm sure were glad to have someone visit. My mum was in the bathroom when I arrived. I heard the toilet flush and the water running in the sink, which I took as a good sign - even small things like this make all the difference at this stage in her illness. She might not be able to do any cleaning around the house or understands that the place might be getting messy (my father's eyesight is getting worse) but at least she manages to keep herself in decent enough condition and can use the toilet when she needs to.

I get the impression that mum thinks that my wife and I already have a child as she keeps asking to see her grandson, or how he is, or making little fun gestures. I keep telling her that he isn't here yet, but I wonder if she's thinking back to the not-too-distant past when we were pregnant for the first time. This makes me all the more desperate that things go well in the coming months, so that we can take our son to see my parents, and for them and my wife's family of course to see their grandchild.

My parents don't know that my wife and I visit a cemetery every so often, and leave flowers and like tea candles on a grave marked "101". We decided not to tell them as it's not something they should know about in their condition and at this time of their lives. We visited the other day and had noticed fresh earth had been dug up in the slot next to ours. Every time we see that, we know it's another baby that didn't make it for whatever reason, and that a parent or two or a family will have stood there at some point feeling as broken and lost as we did.

Tricks of the Mind

A close call

My wife and I attended our first antenatal recently. It is run by a team of midwives from our hospital, but neither of us recognised any of them at the first session. Perhaps in the next sessions or our next appointments at the hospital we’ll recognise someone. It’s all been very interesting so far. In the first session, they separated the mums and dads and asked each group to write down any questions they had about the pregnancy, the birth, and everything before, afterwards and in-between. They’ll use the classes to answer those questions and do some other presentations on pain relief options, breast feeding, handling the baby and other such topics. We can even have a cuppa and a biscuit during a break – which handily coincides with my normal routine at home of a cup of tea in the evenings.

All the other couples appear to be first-time parents by the sounds of things. Each group came up with some pretty useful questions. My wife and I have a head-start in some areas already. We know what it’s like to stay in the hospital overnight, and what the ‘show’ is. We know that you could get a slice of toast and a hot drink from the team, and that being induced can be long and exhausting. We know how much it costs to keep the car in the car park overnight, and how important it is that the placenta comes through after the baby. We know how often someone will keep an eye on things and how a whole group of midwives will be in attendance when things kick off.

My parents are very excited about it. I’m not sure how much my mum understands or whether she realises she’ll be having a grandchild in a few months, but I do know that we was often confused about things a year and a half ago when we had problems with the first pregnancy.

I’m not sure what the right word or phrase is, but mum has a certain intuition, or "spiritual-ness" about her. I remember some years ago she was very poorly for a period over the summer. The problem is that she wouldn’t have been able to properly communicate what was wrong with her – what was making her feel unwell, or what was bothering her the most. This is perhaps one of the worst problems of her dementia, not being able to properly communicate what she is feeling.

I remember visiting their place and it having a terrible smell of sickness. The windows had been shut and of course she hadn’t been able to bathe properly. My dad was himself tired and worried himself having to care for her. Getting up and down the stairs is no easy feat for him after all.

She was immobile, in bed. She couldn’t keep any food down and had no energy whatsoever. But the most frightening thing – and perhaps what was truly terrifying and touched a certain spiritual nerve with me – is that she said my grandparents had come to visit her. It makes me shiver just to write this. She was evidently so poorly that her mind was playing tricks on her, but I know on a couple of other occasions in the distant past she would say that she imagined my father's mum to "be" there somehow.

She asked me whether they had gone home yet, or whether she was going with them. I’m pretty sure she said something like they had come to take her. I told her, repeatedly, that they were going home themselves soon and that she would be staying with us. I had to make sure she stayed with me, in the there-and-now, and to listen to my voice and to feel me holding her. I could tell that her mind wasn’t functioning properly. He eyes were glazed over and she couldn’t focus. Simply sitting up in bed made her sick. She could speak – that was a good sign – but it was intermixed with noises and groans and it really made me think about our immortality and the inevitable.

Several times I had to excuse myself and go into my old bedroom next door just to take a breather and compose myself. I couldn’t let her or my father see me close to tears.

We really needed to get her out of that bedroom. The light was dim and it had a very stifling atmosphere to it. I don’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural and I’m not a religious person, but the feeling of dread and fear was unavoidable. It was heavy and there was a different smell in the house. It wasn't pleasant at all.

My father and I managed to manoeuvre her out of bed and down the stairs so that a doctor could see her. Thank goodness for late-night pharmacies. The doctor had diagnosed her as having a chest infection and urine infection at the same time. Double whammy, no wonder she was so poorly. I had managed to get her some medication and, thank goodness, she slowly improved over the next week.

But, it was a year or two later after routine tests and check-up that a doctor asked whether she might have had a heart-attack in recent years. When someone says that, and you think about how sick she appeared to be, you immediately begin to wonder whether it wasn’t just an infection and was something more serious. That could have been it. I also keep a keen eye on those adverts on television for dealing with strokes and looking out for the signs - I wish I would have been more wary of that back then.

My dear mum does say the most uncanny if not spookiest of things. Fast forward to a year and a half ago, at a particular point in time mid-November 2013, when mum would have had no idea what was happening with my wife and I as we made visits to and from different hospitals, she makes a random, innocent comment that sends chills up and down my spine again: she tells us how she had day-dreamed or imagined seeing a little boy running joyfully around the house, but she had no idea who he was or how he got there, and she couldn’t catch him.

It was difficult to keep the tears back when she had said that. I wonder if her saying that was indeed just a coincidence?

The Ups and the Downs

A difficult day

I had some not-so-bad dreams, but partly unpleasant and strangely upsetting dreams. I awoke in the early hours of the morning with tears in my eyes - I had been crying. I fell asleep and when I woke up again later on, at the time I'd normally get out of bed, I felt drained.

Everyday Saturday I visit my folks place and take my dad to the local Tesco to help with the weekly shopping. Mum is able to stay at home for a short period on here, but oftentimes we'll come back and she'll have taken food out the fridge or (what is a more recurring problem) hides away keys or other bits and pieces and forgets where she's put it. Although dad gets out and about almost everyday, this serves as a guaranteed weekly visit to see both my parents and also enables dad to pick up anything heavier or bulkier that he couldn't manage on his own during the week. Things like a supply of milk, bottled water, some beers to last the week, that sort of thing.

This morning though I felt hardly in the mood to have to go out and do it. Today it felt like a real chore. I was tired, I didn't feel like and with the weather being very cold, damp and windy outside I'd have rather stayed at home.

My wife can read me very well, which I'm hugely conscious of. The slightest hint of frustration or my usual bout of 'stroppiness' she picks up on and mentions. She has far more reason to feel stressful or worried about things, being 6.5 months pregnant and focusing on watching what she eats.

She has been diagnosed as having gestational diabetes. It wasn't unexpected, to be honest. Her mother is a diabetic and previous blood tests had show a higher susceptablity to the condition. We have of course also just come the other side of the festive season, so plenty of opportunties to spoil ourselves and have that one extra bit of chocolate or dessert or whatever else. Truth be told, our diet isn't so bad and hers isn't at all bad - lots of fruit and veg, chicken and fish, nuts and seeds. Neither of us drink fizzy drinks like cola or lemonade, and I don't put sugar in my tea or coffee or on my cereal. The majority of our sugar intake comes from fruits and fruit juices, although I'm far more less disciplined with cakes and sweets than she is. Of course, she'll partake in sharing a treat or two but I certainly have the sweeter tooth.

Yesterday involved another slog through morning traffic to take her to an appointment at the hospital to see a doctor, dietician and nurses. I sped back to work and spent most of the morning watching my phone for updates from here. Come lunchtime, 4 hours after dropping her off, my nerves were completed rattled waiting for her to let me know she was done. I sped off to pick her up and take her home - complete with an Accucheck blood monitoring system given by the health team for her to use.

This of course makes me feel quite selfish and perhaps quite melodramatic. She is managing to watch what she eats, focussing on the nutritional value of foods we have and doing a good job of measuring the values each time she uses the machine to test her blood. The results are not bad at and within reasonable levels. So why I am feeling so low about things?

Perhaps it's actually the weather, who knows. This morning I fought hard to keep the tears back. Quite honestly there were two or three occasions this morning at my folks place and in the car afterwards that I could easily have broken down in tears. I don't know why.

I also feel for my parents, who would rather we spend more time with them. Today I just couldn't do it. I love my parents dearly but today was one of those days that I simply couldn't bear being there. Perhaps I'm being too much of a coward or not being patient enough with people. I'm worrying about my wife and her condition, and what she's going through carrying our second son, and I'm wanting to give my parents a grandchild that would be such a boost to their own lives. I often daydream about the day we take our son to see them, so they can see the newest member of the family for themselves. and I'm quite sure whatever ailment or other problems they're having would be eased considerably seeing that miracle of a newborn being.

I just hope everything goes well between now and then for them all. Right now I have to pack aside all this crap I'm feeling and concentrate on making sure I support my wife as much as possible. Tomorrow is another day.

Earliest memories...

"When I was younger, I couldn't wait to get older so I could do my own thing. Now I just want to stop getting older" (Mrs)

I'm trying to work out how far back my memory goes. We have lots of family photos but for the most part I don't recall the events or occasions they were taken at until perhaps when I get to 7, 8, 9 years of age. The images do stir something in me, but perhaps only because they've been viewed a number of times over the years since they were taken. It was a nice thing to do of an evening back then - to bring out the albums and look through them all.

There are photos of me running in a school race when I must have been 7 or 8, but I don't remember doing that. There are a set of photos with me posing with a small football around the house that my mum took. I can remember a little about that and the fact that my mum took them.  I would have been younger, maybe 4 or 5. We apparently holidayed in Westward Ho where strong winds nearly blew the roof off our caravan but I don't remember that happening. There are photos of me on the beach at Torquay, a place we'd holidayed at a lot as a family but I don't remember being on the beach.

I do also remember my father dropping me off at school, into a class at whatever was before primary school. Whenever we pass the school, we wonder whether kids and their parents still do the same thing. I think some of the earliest memories I have would be playing with the kids that lived in the same street as me. There was a family who had a climbing frame in the back garden and I'd be afraid to come from it whenever my folks came to collect because I was afraid of their dogs...!

I wonder how far back my mum, in her 70s now and with her dementia, can actually remember. A significant part of her illness is that she remembers things from a long time back, many years ago with her family and at her home in rural Thailand. As much as I'd like to trace back the family history on my mum's side, I know that's not possible anymore. I am also conscious of asking her about things in case she gets upset or how it might affect how she views or interprets her life right now. I wonder if she might escape into that world and forget about the things around her now.

My father's side however, is a different story. I've never had living grandparents so it's always been a mystery to me, but I do know their names and have received snippets of information about my background. Only very recently though have I started to make real progress into understanding my ancestors, and started the investigation with my Aunt.

She is older than my dad by some years but is still active and has a sharp mind. Incredibly, she has managed to dig out a birth certificate for my great grand-father going back to 1874. This of course has sparked a huge interest in gathering up information and making use of online records to try and piece together our family history.

One of the more worrying things that have come out of it though is finding out a pattern among that side of the family relating to poor heart conditions. My father had problems in his 50s. My grandparents both died in their 40s due to chest and heart problems. It's something I hadn't considered before but I'm far more conscious now about my own health - and especially since I have a child of my own on the way.

Speaking of which, we are at this stage in the third trimester and 8 or 9 weeks away from the due date. Next week we have the first of a series of antenatal classes. 10 years ago I would never have thought I'd be where I am now.

Mum and Dad

"I always imagined it would be her looking after him, not the other way around"

My half-sister said that when we met up with them before Christmas. It puts things neatly into perspective.

I am half-Thai. I don't look it, but when I tell people it often confirms what they were thinking (apart from thinking there is something a little odd about me). There is a stigma attached to 'men from the West' marrying women from Asia that I've always disliked and still feel uncomfortable with. Quite unfairly, in the past my mum used to be upset about my apparent discomfort or being embarrassed by her, whenever we were out shopping, or on holiday, or at school events etc when we were together as a family. It was never about her being Thai or the way she looked, but because of her gregarious personality on one hand and quick temper on the other, or how loudly she spoke in both instances. Perhaps it was because I only ever heard her voice above all others, whether it was in a busy street or crowded room.

The details of how my folks met are still a bit vague to be honest and I've never directly enquired. Over the years, small snippets of information have emerged and I've been happy to leave it at that. Regardless, it was April of 1978 that they married and I came along in January of 1979. It must have been in my late teens that I actually realised that I must have been conceived on or very close to their wedding night, which I've always thought was endearing (albeit a bit too much information perhaps). I've always very much loved my parents and they have loved me in return, but we've never really been very open with each-other or shared much about how we really felt or things that were going on that were causing us problems.

Right now, as of January 2015 my mum is 74 years old and my father 73. Whenever there is a union between a 'farang' and a Thai you'd expect in later years to see the lady dutifully nursing the man in his old age. Again that stigma: that older guy from the West marrying a younger lady from over there, but it's different in their case. My father's sight and hearing is getting worse and he's had his fair share of problems over the years. Heart attack, problems downstairs, Meniere's disease, but he manages to stay of sound mind to a degree at the moment, which I feel extremely thankful for, but it's just his physical capability that is becoming a problem. He does get out of the house most days though and takes advantage of his senior bus pass to get about easily enough, it's just all a lot slower than in years gone by of course and he's getting a lot more tired.

My mum on the other hand does not leave the house much nowadays, unless they have a doctor or hospital appointment to go to and which is the one of the few things that breaks up their routine. Whenever I visit, she is usually in her normal place at the end of the sofa nearest the window, wrapped up in a blanket. For the past few years her memory has deteriorated - it's Alzheimer's, or another form of dementia, but whatever it is it's causing a terrible strain on my father, whom she relies on - even though she doesn't fully realise it - to prepare meals for them both, ensure she takes her medication, to do the chores, to settles bills and to do basically everything to keep the house in check.

She remembers and often recalls events or conversations from many years ago, even going back to her youth, but cannot remember what was said or what she did five minutes ago. We'd take them both to our place for a meal and on the way back to the car to take them home, she'll have forgotten she's even been there or what she ate. We'll go out for a meal somewhere and afterwards she'd ask if we want to go for lunch. She'll open a Christmas or birthday present we've given her and minutes later she'll ask what it is and if we want it. She's afraid of using the toilet on her own at night and sleeps lightly, which means my father's sleep is regularly interrupted. She'll keep on at him about making sure windows are shut or that taps are turned off. She'll constantly ask my dad about something and repeat herself. We'll joke that it's a good job he can't hear her half the time but in truth we all know how difficult this is on him having to put up with the random and constant questions and repetitiveness of it all.

I know this because I can see with hindsight the change that took place while I was still living with them. I understand now why things were so difficult at times. Nowadays it's heart-breaking listening to my dad tell me how tired he is because of how she's been - I can tell by the tone of his voice and it's a terrible thing to listen to.

One of the most frustrating things is sitting her down to a meal. She was always a fussy eater, but now she'll keep saying she's full when she's hardly eaten anything. She'll keep offering her plate to others when we have full plates ourselves. She'll push food around the plate, or put something on her fork and then abandon it. Her eating habits have always been pretty poor and her diet isn't good now. It's often the same thing with little variety (and no doubt not enough nutrition), but this is limited due to what my father can prepare each day.

Perhaps most worrying though is when we've taken her out, either for a walk or to our place for a good few hours. Not only does this give her a change of scenery and some exercise but, more importantly, gives dad a chance to have a rest and do his own thing. But after some time away from him and the familiarity of her own home, we'll notice she'll even begin to forget about him and the house, thinking that she's in her own home when she's in ours. This could be the most heart-breaking element of her condition and it already makes me desperately sad for them both to think that one day, quite possibly, she'll forget she's married to my father.

I want to use this blog in a variety of ways. I want to have a diary of how things develop with my parent's condition and the help they hope to receive from the local council and health services. I also want to remember certain events in years gone by and how we've got to where we are now.

I turn 36 in a few day's time and I too have began to find myself getting a little confused over things, tripping over my words or stuttering when I speak, making silly avoidable mistakes at work or thinking one word and saying another. It's small but noticeable. Does it mean anything? Could it be early signs of my own mental deterioration or some other condition? That is perhaps a little melodramatic I know, and I suspect isn't anything to be concerned about, but I've found that writing things down has always been a good way for me to express myself.

My wife and I will face our own challenges this year. We are expecting our first child, although I'm still unsure about using that term given what we've been through. I remember someone telling us at one point during that awful period - whether it was the hospital staff, friends, family or the Father from the local church that visited us - that he will always be our fist child, our firstborn, our first son, but I can't seem to come to terms with that or understand how to articulate myself whenever people ask about it.

Between worrying about both our parent's struggles in their old age, our own challenges with starting a family and the events of the not-too-distant past hanging over us, and potential concerns with my own mental health that I've been conscious of only very recently, Year 36 could be the most challenging time of our lives yet.