LOSE YOUR MUM TO DEMENTIA

MY mammy was the best mammy. Any time I think back to my childhood, she was there. Not inside cooking and cleaning, but out in the sunshine with us, teaching us how to swim, picking brambles, and chatting to anyone who would listen.

She never followed a recipe, was a terrible cook, an astounding jam maker and an amazing baker.

About ten years ago, my dad started to mention little things that were worrying him. She said that she couldn’t wind up our electric clock and found it hard to follow simple conversations on TV shows. This progressed to more problematic issues, like putting the electric kettle on the gas stove to heat the water and forgetting how to use the washing machine.

After several consultations, which

LAURA MCMAHON

initially didn’t find any issues (mammy was a great bluffer), a diagnosis of vascular dementia was confirmed.

The first few years were very hard. We were all learning how to deal with repeated questions and she was getting frustrated at losing her independence. Looking back, she was probably very frightened, and for the first time in our lives she would be argumentative and sometimes rude. This was not the mammy we remembered.

Even more difficult was Dad’s adjustment to being a carer. He had been brought up in a devout Catholic family to believe that life was supposed to be hard and that ‘in sickness and in health’ meant that he had to do it all. He did a fantastic job cooking, cleaning and supporting mammy but he found it so difficult to lose his bright and sunny wife bit by bit and sank into depression.

It was a horrible time, with Dad’s depression becoming so bad that we were afraid he would take his own life. Thankfully, after some very frank conversations, he started a prescription of antidepressants, which improved the situation almost instantly.

Although we slowly managed to get care at home to help out, the situation got so bad that mammy was admitted into hospital with a severe infection and it was clear that she would need 24hour nursing care from then on.

We were lucky that my family had enough savings to privately pay for care in a specialised dementia nursing home. Others aren’t so fortunate and I have heard heartbreaking stories from friends of poor care provision and long waiting times.

Mammy was very well looked after at the home and enjoyed the social

interaction and opportunities to chat to everyone that passed. We made her a memory book and she loved hearing the stories about our lives and looking at the pictures. Dad visited every day and used to sing songs and pray with her. The hardest thing for me was when she no longer recognised me. I was grateful that she always knew I was someone close (sometimes calling me her big wee mammy!) but it wasn’t the same.

After three years in the nursing home, mammy stopped eating and drinking and ended up in hospital again with an infection but her body was exhausted and she was ready to go. I thought I had done all my grieving over the years she had dementia but the physical pain when she died was intolerable. I miss her so much.

Brigid Christina (known as Chris) was 86 when she died in February last year. Pictured with her husband Neil and her son, also Neil, and daughter Laura The Herald is backing a campaign by Alzheimer Scotland to ensure all patients with advanced dementia have access to free, 24-hour health care in the final years of their lives.