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.