VAL’S WEEK
The warm and wise words of Mrs Savage (that’s Robbie’s mum)
Alzheimer’s ad a hard watch, but it’s what happens
THE Alzheimer’s Society has spent a lot of money on a TV advert but achieved the very opposite of what it intended… it upset people with dementia and their carers.
The tagline: “With dementia, you don’t just die once; you die again, and again and again,” caused hurt and sparked complaints.
I’d never dismiss anyone’s painful feelings and don’t like the thought of the ad making someone with dementia feel more of a burden or reminding their families of the awfulness of their situation. But I have to be honest, the slogan is what I experienced with my late and much-loved husband, Colin.
I knew he was never going to get better. I was agonisingly aware that when I was caring for him I was slowly losing him. It was torture of the heart.
I did my crying when he was still here, when I saw him gradually lose interest in going out, watching football or reading newspapers. But I still had oceans of tears when he finally slipped away 12 years ago, aged only 63.
The advert upsets me, because it brings the exhaustion, worry and hopelessness of caring for Colin flooding back, although the grief is with me every day. But I know the charity is trying to tell is like it is and move people to donate.
So instead of wallowing, I try to remember that even on the hardest days of Colin’s dementia, if he gave me a smile I knew that all was right with the world.
Wrong words do not make us bad
This new hate crime business in Scotland has got me het up. Saying the wrong thing could get me arrested north of the border.
People of my generation have had so many lessons about what we can and can’t say to be politically correct. We’re confused, tongue-tied and scared to say anything at all. Many decided to keep our social circles small so we can relax and say what we like.
We might say the wrong word, but there isn’t a hint of badness in our hearts.
Not a cell in me is racist, sexist or homophobic and I’m petrified the wrong turn of phrase would give a negative impression. I don’t want to
I’d like to give a big thank you to lovely reader Cathy, from Porthcawl, who put a lot of effort into sending me a giant package of BBQ Hula Hoops and all my favourite chocolates. I was so touched – and I have never ripped Sellotape off a package quicker!
cause offence. I don’t want to be told: “You can’t say that any more.” And I most certainly don’t want to be arrested for saying something modern culture thinks is wrong. It’s confusing to think innocently intended words can make people go up like a bottle of pop.
And now it’s terrifying. Trying to navigate the pitfalls of modern language is just one way older people feel isolated. Technology is another.
It angers me to see people my age standing outside in the rain, fiddling with change in their pockets and trying to work out car park ticket machines because we can’t use these new-fangled phone apps.
Meanwhile, young people are warm and dry in the comfort of their car as they pay for tickets with a few finger-flicks of a smartphone.
I feel like boycotting restaurants which ask diners to scan QR codes rather offering paper menus. Even making a doctor’s appointment needs techy know-how.
This week I was completely covered in a strange rash which even affected my ear lobes and between my toes.
I couldn’t sleep for itching and my skin bled.
But when I called my GP I was asked to take a photo and visit a double-you double-you what-do-you-call-it.
I don’t have a phone that takes pictures and the idea of uploading anything to the internet is as alien to me as ET. I simply wanted to see my doctor. Eventually, because the girl on the phone was nice, I explained that I was 76, on my own and couldn’t do it.
And that it might not be an emergency to doctors but it was to me.
I was given an appointment that day and, thanks to a course of pills, the rash has now vanished.
But what of all the people who fall at the technological hurdle and suffer rather than trying to talk their way into an appointment?
As my friend Beryl and I say almost every day now, we just wish it was like the old days.