CARE HOME FEARS
Scott Mitchell admits that the moment he always dreaded has come, Barbara Windsor – loved by him as a wife and by the nation as an icon – could need to move into a home…
Dame Barbara Windsor has been a great British institution for over half a century. ‘That was the old fun Barbara,’ says her husband, Scott, softly.
Asked how he first noticed the changes, the 57-year-old replied: ‘There was a change in her personality – she’s an actress. But her joy had started to go, and there was a slight vacancy.’
After a series of tests and brain scans, Barbara’s dementia diagnosis was confirmed six years ago.
‘She whispered: “I’m so sorry”,’ Scott recalls. ‘Inside I went numb.
‘I don’t think, at that moment in time, I comprehended the whole way forward,’ he says. ‘Now… it’s just quite awful.’ The disease has taken hold, and Scott has been given the bombshell news, by Barbara’s specialist, that the time may be nearing when she will be better off in a care home.
‘It’s the thing I’ve always feared,’ he admits. ‘He’s basically telling me I need to prepare myself because, at some point, it may not be sustainable to give her the kind of care she needs at the house…’ He adds: ‘And there’s a part of me which knows that most likely is the truth.’
But there is another part of her husband that can’t imagine letting his wife go. ‘I can’t imagine leaving that lady… putting her somewhere and her thinking, “Why has he done this to me?”’
His torment is clear as he adds. ‘I love the bones off her, but I am Barbara’s carer. It’s not the Barbara I know that
I live with.’
‘People say to me, “You are doing a great job”. What does that mean?’
The first time Barbara looked at Scott and said, ‘I’m sorry, who are you?’ his heart broke.
Explaining their life together, he says that one moment they can be chatting then, within seconds, his 82-year-old wife makes no sense whatsoever.
The couple have been married for 24 years, but ‘One minute she looks at me as if I’m the most important thing in the world and other times, she asks me where her husband is…’
The illness is cruel and there are now around 850,000 people living with dementia in the UK and 700,000 are cared for by loved ones. The number is set to double in the next 30 years. By then, one in three women and one in four men will suffer at some point. It’s a frightening statistic.
Since her diagnosis was made public,
both Scott and Barbara have done all they can to raise vitally important awareness of the growing crisis. The couple delivered a petition to Boris Johnson calling for a government dementia fund. ‘Give me a kiss and better dementia care,’ giggled Barbara, showing a strong spark of her old self.
‘Care costs around £100,000 per person for carers, etc,’ adds Scott. ‘How many can afford that?’
Scott is now an Ambassador for the Alzheimer’s Society and, last year, best presented him with a Heroes Award, for the tireless work he has done raising both awareness and money. He is a delightfully shy man unused to the spotlight – a role filled by his funny, vibrant wife until these desperately sad circumstances thrust him towards it.
Covid-19 has had a huge impact on all of us, but for Scott it has had a devastating effect. Barbara now finds nights disorientating and she cannot remember why she needs to stay in. Scott did not allow his wife to appear on Ross Kemp’s recent programme, Living with Dementia, in a bid to protect her dignity.
He is a well-known charity marathon runner but admits there is another reason for running: ‘I don’t know how I would cope mentally if I couldn’t run,’ he says simply.
One day soon Scott may need to make this agonising decision of placing his wife in a home.
Scott’s close friend, Ross Kemp, does not think it’s a ‘may’, but sadly an inevitability.
‘I’m no doctor but the cells shut down. It wipes your short-term memory and then it wipes everything like a computer shutting down.’
He recently visited the couple’s home.
‘There are fantastic pictures from her career on the wall and she asks: “Who is that lady?”’ he admits. ‘ When I first saw her, she recognised me but three minutes later, she asked who I was.’
The words hang in the air as he adds: ‘This is the biggest killer in the UK and there is no cure for it.’
But for now, Scott is keeping his wife at home and taking each day as it comes, enjoying the good moments. ‘One day she will be somewhere without me there. She will look around and not know what is going on…’ he admits sadly.
‘I’ve had some fairly dark moments.’
For help and advice, ring the Dementia UK hotline on 0800 888 6678 or visit dementiauk.org. Watch Ross Kemp: Living with Dementia
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Zipping up the garment bag, I sighed as I carefully put my wedding dress back in the wardrobe after trying it on one last time. My big day was approaching, and everything was ready to go. Everything except me…
My fiancé, Jack, and I had been together for three years and were old school friends. We had drifted apart after leaving school, but we’d bumped into each other by chance at a dance nine years later in 1980 and sparks flew.
We’d started dating and, when Jack proposed after a year, I was thrilled. He was sweet, kind and easy-going. But as time went by, I started to get niggling doubts about our impending nuptials.
I’d realised the spark had gone and, if I was being brutally honest, I’d grown a bit bored of Jack. We’d got into a routine, and were comfortable, but things had become a little stale.
I always thought I’d be excited for my wedding day, yet I felt nothing. We’d booked the church, I’d got my big white dress, my dad had paid over £1,000 for catering, and invites had gone out to more than 100 guests.
I’d been so swept up in the planning that I’d pushed my feelings aside, but now I felt trapped. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, but I didn’t want to let anyone down.
A week before our big day, Jack set off to Amsterdam for his stag do, while I’d planned
a hen party in our local nightclub. Me and nine mates got dolled up and headed into town. We had a great time drinking and hitting the dance floor.
Late into the evening, I’d gone to the bar for another round, and as I walked back, I saw someone leaning up against a wall. I did a double take. We locked eyes and instantly recognised each other – it was Graham Bush.
We’d been at school together and although he was a few years older than me, I’d always fancied him, but hadn’t seen him in years.
‘ What are you doing here?’ he smiled. ‘I’m on a hen do,’ I said. I just didn’t admit it was mine… We stole a dance away from my friends and there was an undeniable spark between us. When he asked for my number, I scribbled it on the back of a raffle ticket.
‘I’m two sheets to the wind,’ Graham admitted. ‘But I’ll call you tomorrow.’
I knew it was wrong, but I was on cloud nine. True to his word, Graham called at 6pm the following night and hearing his voice gave me butterflies. We went out for a drink that evening and talked about everything and anything – except my wedding. I couldn’t deny there was something special between us. Graham had a flat nearby, and I was staying at Mum and Dad’s, so I went back to his for the night.
I’d been so swept up in the excitement of seeing Graham again, that I hadn’t given Jack a second thought. But our wedding was less than a week away, and I knew I couldn’t go through with it.
I didn’t want to let anyone down but how could I marry a man I didn’t love? That night, I went back to Graham’s. I didn’t tell him anything, but the next day, with Jack due back from his stag do, I knew I’d have to face the music.
So, I nervously confided in my mum. ‘I knew something wasn’t right,’ she said, but was shocked at my admission.
It was a relief to have it out in the open and she was really supportive – even offering to contact the guests.
Afterwards, I told Dad, and he was angry at first. He’d spent a lot of money trying to give me the perfect big day, and I felt awful, but I couldn’t just marry Jack out of guilt.
Mum dutifully rang around suppliers, and we realised we could keep a lot of the food we’d paid for and use it for my brother’s 21st birthday instead, which placated Dad.
I had no idea what I was going to tell Jack, though…
He came round when he got back from his stag do. I was so scared, but I needed to tell him. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said quietly. ‘I can’t go through with the wedding.’ I wanted to let him down gently, so when he asked if there was someone else, I said no. ‘I just don’t love you like I should to get married,’ I said. It was a difficult conversation – he was confused, and I felt horrible. But it wouldn’t have been fair on him to go through with the wedding.
I called the vicar to cancel the church and, as news spread there were a few raised eyebrows. I wasn’t popular with Jack’s family and friends, understandably, but most people were supportive.
Once I’d broken the news to Jack, I packed a bag and went to Graham’s. Once I was there, I never left. When I woke up a few days later on 11 June 1983 – what should have been my wedding day – I had a strange feeling. I was sad I’d hurt Jack, but I felt very free. Later that day, Graham and I decided to go to our local pub and I told him everything.
‘I was supposed to be getting married about now,’ I said, casually. Graham nearly choked on his lager. ‘The night we met was actually my hen do,’ I admitted.
Graham was shocked and lost for words, but didn’t push me for details. We both knew I’d made the right decision.
I didn’t really speak to Jack again, other than to sort out practicalities, and I eventually told him I’d met Graham after we’d split.
Things between Graham and I were amazing. I hadn’t realised how wrong my relationship with Jack was until Graham came along.
When I introduced him to my family, they loved him too.
They could see how much happier I was, and how right we were for each other.
After just six months, Graham proposed, and when we tied the knot, I wore the dress that I’d bought for my first wedding!
We married in a small church in nearby Carshalton and, at the reception, we announced we were expecting our daughter, Leah.
Now, 35 years on, I’m
66 and we’re still happily married. We’ve had our ups and downs like all couples do, but we’ve remained rock solid. We have a four-year-old grandson that we adore, too.
I heard Jack married, and I’m glad he’s happy. Meeting Graham when I did was fate, but I never dreamed I’d meet my future hubby at my hen do!
‘There was something special between us’