Deep in thought.

It seems like an eternity since I've written a post but this past week has been so busy that the nights were blending into the mornings leaving me wondering what day it was...and questioning if I'd slept at all.

I took on the task of creating a wedding cake with a difference along with a christening cake which were both to be delivered on the same day.  In days gone by I'd get up really early in the mornings and crack on with the job, stopping only to feed myself and keep myself going in between times with copious amounts of coffee and the occasional Malteser.  

I think for the first time in my baking life I'd organised myself so far in advance and managed to make every element for the cakes prior to putting them all together.  The beginning of the week was a bake fest.  Cake after cake went into the oven and all the while I kept dad going with his cups of tea, crisps and snacks then had to stop somewhere in the middle to make dinner.  At times I'd stop and look at the kitchen and think that I'd been raided.  Keeping dad out of it was the biggest deal.  Whenever he hears water running in the kitchen he gets up off his recliner (with great difficulty) and gets busy looking for a dish towel to dry the dishes that I'm about to wash.  Every...I mean EVERY time I have to tell him, "Just leave those dad.  I'm just letting them dry on their own."  I've learned to move the dish towel from it's usual spot before I run the water so that he doesn't get it in his hands at all.  Why is this such a big deal?  Well...before he puts the dish towel down, he might just give his nose a quick wipe.  Yeah.  Best to let him just sit this one out.

The weather was really bad at the beginning of the week so it gave me a good excuse not to take him out.  Packing and unpacking the wheelchair into the back of the car is hard enough but when it's pouring with rain, the chair gets slippery to lift and I always end up with wet dirt on my clothes from the wheels.  Lifting this thing is fast becoming my biggest issue these days!

With dad being my only full-time job, I was able to work around him and get my cake work done.  It is no mean feat but without my creativity I don't quite know where I would be.

Now and again I would catch dad's eye from the kitchen and he'd say "How are you doing?" or "You're awfy busy!"  I'd smile at him and either take bits and pieces of what I was doing to show him so that he didn't have to move or I would help him from his chair so that he could come and have a better look.  As the bigger of the two cakes began to take shape midweek, the kitchen became more of a hazard area.  My difficulty was timing everything with dad so that he would remain in his chair when I needed him to.  I kept him occupied with snacks and tea before I'd take a toilet break.  I realised the importance of this when I entered the living room after leaving for seconds to find that he was on his way into the kitchen with a half empty cup of tea and narrowly avoided him putting it on the table where the cake stood with barely a vacant spot.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" he asked, standing with the cup tilted forward in his hand.

Carefully taking the cup from his grasp I answered, "I'll do it dad.  I was just going to clear up a bit first then I'll bring one for you."

He stopped to look at the cake.  "You're awfy clever," he stated.  "That's beautiful."

The praise is welcome.  The heart attack is not.

Dad was due to go in to respite on Friday.  I was aware that we hadn't been out and about all week.  Apart from his visit to the Day Centre on Wednesday, he hadn't been outside of the house.  My gratification to Columbo knew no bounds although I know this statement proves that I have more faces than the town clock.  Nearing the end of the week, when finding the kitchen underneath the sugar rubble was an almost impossible task, I decided to take dad out for dinner.
.............................................
The week hasn't gone without some moody moments.  I've had more than my share of trying to keep dad on his feet and stopping him from pulling at this clothes when I'm trying to help him dress.  Sometimes I'm just not quick enough to prevent him from doing whatever he does next and his senses no longer tell him to wait.  His irritation gets the better of him.  I grin and bear it.
..............................................
Dad loves a salad.  He eats small portions but I dress the plate nicely with a good helping of his favourite coleslaw.  He'll have salad with a sizeable hot fishcake or a slice of warmed quiche.  Every time I present his tray in front of him he'll say, "Bloody lovely," in his worst Yorkshire accent then he scoffs the lot.  One day I watched him as he ate his last but one mouthful.
"You're enjoying that dad." I commented.
"No I'm not," he shot back.  It took me by surprise.  I half laughed and said, "Well you've almost cleaned your plate!"
"I know...but I'm no enjoying it," he replied.  With that, he put his fork down and sat back still chewing on his last bit of food.
"Oh well," I said.  "I'll take it away."  I removed the tray with the 'clean' plate from his lap and carried on regardless.  I can't take the comments to heart.  I know 5 minutes later he'll be a different version of himself.  I know that if he smiles then I will smile too.
............................................
Friday finally came and it was time to take dad to respite. He got up that morning and entered the living room just as I was getting myself out of my chair bed.  I hate when I'm not fully awake for him as it's harder to try and keep him seated while I juggle clearing up the floor, putting the chair back together along with breakfast duties...in particular, making tea.  But I managed even though the order of things were back to front.
"I didn't know where I was this morning," he told me.  "I had to look out the window to find out!"
"Well you know wherever you are that I'm not far away so don't worry about it," I said, which wasn't quite true as he was going off to respite in a few hours.  That little statement stayed with me for too long.  I'd mention it to staff later...just keep an eye on him.
I took him out for lunch before dropping him off and getting him settled.  I bought him a stash of crisps, biscuits, soft drinks and a can of lager for each night of his stay.  That cheered him up!  On arrival, one of the ladies who regularly looks after him welcomed him with a hug and said "It's so nice to see you back John.  How did you enjoy Blackpool?"
Dad turned to me and asked, "Have we been?"  "Yes dad," I answered, "we have."
"Oh well, it must have been good then!" he said.
As sad as it is that he can't recall, I know that in the moment he knows where he is, even if I have to remind him a million times.  If I can hear him tell me then that he is having the time of his life then that's good enough for me...although I can't help thinking that I could save us both a bloody fortune in future!
Dad watched me as I hung his three sets of clothes onto hangers in his room.
"Am I staying for a month?" he asked.
"No dad, just for 3 nights," I replied.
"I know," he said, laughing.  "I'm just kidding."
Two minutes later.... "Am I here for a week?"
"No, dad....."  etc, etc.
As I leave he said, "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow."  🙈

The weekend went by so fast.  I indulged in a few glasses of fizz and was happy to have dinner cooked for me.  I called the Care Home every night around dad's tea time to remind them to give him his can of lager and to ask them to put a specific TV channel on for him.  I was told on the first night that he had gone to bed before 8 p.m.  I know without me being around to keep him in a routine that he would lose the plot entirely and probably be up wandering around at stupid hours in the morning.  One day his Dementia may take him along this route, but not yet.  I can't regulate his day while he's away and I have to come to terms with the fact that I shouldn't feel guilty because of it.  I need to be able to enjoy myself doing my own thing from time to time.
I write this as if I've been given 'lines' at school because the reality is that no matter how many times I say it or how BIG and bold I write it...the fact is I DO NOT KNOW how to switch off and feel alright about it.
I picked dad up on Monday morning and he was glad to see me.  I'd already done our food shopping so I took him straight home and put the kettle on  The weather was inexplicably sunny so we were able spend time outdoors in the garden.  I got a chair from the shed for him while I carried on with all the weekend's washing and pottered around pulling weeds from the ground.  I watched my dad as he sat looking deep in thought.  Occasionally he would open his mouth to say something and although words came out, they weren't always the words he meant or more frustrating for him, he couldn't find the word at all.  I usually put this down to his routine being knocked off a bit....but today is Tuesday, and all too frequently he has said something that makes absolutely no sense to me at all.  I also watched as he sat with a hand resting on his lap with his fingers in a pincer grip while staring at it, lifting his hand now and again.
"What's up dad?" I asked curiously.
He tutted, then said, "I thought I had a cup of tea in my hand and there's nothing there.  Stupid arse!"
I made a joke about wishful thinking before I went off to make some.  Moments later he was looking for his glasses which he was already wearing.
I took him out to get a haircut this morning and bought him a new pair of trousers before finishing off with coffee, tea and cake.
"We'll head home now dad," I said.
"Good," he said.
"Are you tired?" I asked.
"No," he replied.  "I'm fed up!"
"Fed up?" I questioned.
"Aye," he said.  "Fed up being pushed around all over the place."

Home time then!

Dear Lorraine,

Listen to your heart, not your dad's Dementia.
Stay strong...keep smiling.
It's okay to want to wring his neck sometimes.
Give yourself a break...have a Malteser!

Always here for you
Your conscience. xx