The saddest goodbye. Dad’s gone… and now I’m losing Mum to dementia, too
September is World Alzheimer’s Month and Sue Crozier has more heartbreaking experience with the illness than most…
Popping in to see my mum, Anita, now 82, I noticed a discarded cup of coffee on the side. It’d gone cold, and I quickly realised why she hadn’t drunk it. There was a lump of marmalade floating on the top of it.
It wasn’t a cuppa the grandchildren had made in a childish attempt to be helpful, but rather, Mum herself. And rather than laughing it off as a silly mistake, my heart broke a little bit more.
Because this was just one of many signs of my mum’s struggle with Alzheimer’s.
Tragically, this wasn’t the first time our family had been tainted by the cruel condition. My beloved dad, Tony, had also suffered from the disease, before it eventually took him from us in October 2015.
Ever since I can remember, family had always been the centre of my world. My parents had been traditional, hardworking, caring – a real team. Mum had been a sister on an A&E ward, while Dad was a police sergeant. Me and my three brothers always mucked in around the house and we’d visit Mum’s family in Ireland every year.
If a relative ever needed help, we’d be there. And my parents loved my husband, John, when they first met him. We’d married in 1996 and couldn’t have asked for better grandparents when our sons, Sean and Conor, arrived in 1999 and 2002.
They’d do school drop offs and pick ups, cook dinners and it was wonderful watching the boys form a close bond with them. We felt incredibly lucky, especially as we only lived five miles away from their East Sussex home.
But in 2012, everything changed. I began to notice that Dad, then 77, started to become forgetful. He’d always been meticulous with his paperwork, but post was piling up and his accounting books had fallen by the wayside. He’d pop to the shops and come back without what he needed, and tell the same stories again and again.
We were all concerned, and it was tough for Mum – they’d finished each other sentences before. But after a GP appointment and tests at a local memory clinic, Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s late that year.
Mum and Dad were both scared, but stoic. We all pulled together and helped out as much as we could. Sean and Conor found it tough, but still saw their Nana and Gawa, as they called him, often.
After Dad had a brief stay in hospital in 2013, he deteriorated quickly. The change in routine had made him paranoid and soon, Mum was struggling to cope.
She’d started becoming forgetful and repeating herself, too. ‘I’ve already said that, haven’t I?’ she’d ask, a worried look on her face. The signs were so familiar that it didn’t take us long to get Mum diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in the summer of 2013. It was so sad, especially in someone so fiercely independent.
John, now 62, and I were house-hunting at the time and found a property with some out-buildings that we decided to convert into a bungalow for Mum and Dad. We’d spoken to Alzheimer’s Research UK who’d advised it was difficult for sufferers to re-learn things, so we ensured we had the appliances fitted that my parents had in their home.
‘ We’re fine living on our own,’ Mum insisted. But after the build was complete, I persuaded them to stay in the bungalow for a weekend – and they never left!
In time, Dad began to struggle with his co-ordination. He’d sit down cross-legged, forget to uncross his legs and try to stand up. He could walk, but only with someone either side of him and he lost the power of speech. He was a shell of himself and I hated seeing him like that. It was inevitable, but still devastating, when, the following year, we had to move him into a home. We all missed him terribly, but it was reassuring, knowing someone was watching him 24/7. Dad passed away in October 2015, and although it felt like we’d already been grieving him for a long time, we were all shattered.
We focused on Mum, who, in time, started to get confused when shopping and kept forgetting one of her beloved sister had died.
Sean and Conor were brilliant though, visiting Mum all the time and walking her back home after dinner each night. ‘My grandkids came to see me,’ she’d tell people repeatedly with pride.
When I’d take her to the memory clinic, she’d ask me questions all the way. ‘ Who’s the Prime Minister? What year is it? What’s the Queen called?’ I quickly realised she was trying to prepare herself for the upcoming meeting.
‘At least she can remember the types of questions we ask,’ the consultant smiled when I explained Mum was trying to play the system!
There’s no denying she’s getting progressively worse, though. She’ll wear the same clothes for days on end, and recently, she heated a sandwich in the microwave, causing it to explode.
‘Let’s take the fuse out of the microwave,’ John and I agreed.
Now I’m 52 and see Mum every day. We help with shopping, personal care and medication, and she has carers, too.
She doesn’t remember big events like my wedding, the birth of her children – or ours. She’s also battling kidney disease and bowel cancer, yet she’s remarkably upbeat. Her decline hasn’t been as quick as Dad’s, and for that I’m grateful.
I want people to be aware of the signs of dementia and to help educate others. Bombarding sufferers with questions only upsets and confuses them more.
Sean is training to be a physiotherapist and I agree with him that all medical professionals should engage with Alzheimer’s patients to have a better understanding of the disease. We’re making the most of the time we have left with Mum and I hope our story can help others do the same with their relatives.
l Alzheimer’s Research is the UK’s leading dementia research charity. One in three people born today are predicted to develop a form of dementia in their lifetime, but research will make lifechanging breakthroughs possible. For more info, see alzheimersresearchuk.org
‘He was a shell of himself and I hated seeing him like that. It was inevitable’