The Bad News
My mum’s dementia has taken another turn for the worse. After she spent a short period in respite care so I could recover from the pneumonia, she’s home but not really sure where ‘home is. She knows she is in her house but doesn’t completely recognise it. Sometimes she asks if she can sleep in her bed, as if it’s not hers. Sometimes she talks about going home to her family home where she (mostly) grew up. Sometimes she acts as if her house is mine.
Yesterday she forgot I had got married and, on finding out I was, became deeply upset that she hadn’t come to the ceremony. She had come, of course, but it took hours to convince her that she hadn’t let me down.
It’s beginning to feel like my mum is being slowly and inexorably erased in front of my eyes.