We do care - but it's time for a little respite

Cry freedom! My mother-in-law has gone into a care home near the ancient town of Ely for a fortnight. Sighs of relief all round ... and a sense of guilt.

Empty chair: and that means a rare respite break

She has stayed there a couple of times on "respite breaks" and always seems very settled and happy. The staff, from the manager to cleaners, go to great lengths to make her feel welcome and appear to take great care of her because they really do understand Alzheimer's. Mum-in-law tends to hold court there, which makes for interesting conversations because the elderly residents also suffer from dementia, while activities and day-trips help to keep everyone occupied and happy.
http://alzheimers.org.uk/
http://www.alzheimersresearchuk.org/home/
Sadly, not every home is the same, and it is a problem that is not just restricted to the Fens (read on...).
We initially tried one which provided invaluable day breaks, from 9am-6.30pm. All seemed fine on the first couple of occasions. Mum-in-law was very chatty but contented. However, she was agitated after her third visit. When we arrived to collect her in the evening she was in the front lounge, a widescreen television her only company. We thought this was a one-off after being given assurances that nothing was amiss.
We left it for three or four months but the same thing then happened again. She was alone, not a resident in sight, as she looked anxiously through the lounge window when we arrived to pick her up. We stood at the front door of the austere Victorian building, feeling helpless as we rang the door bell intermittently for several minutes while mum-in-law stood in the hallway on the other side of the glass-panelled door, banging the panes and shouting loudly.
When a member of staff eventually opened the door, to the relief of everyone, there was no apology, no attempt to calm mum, just a mumbled excuse about getting other residents ready for bed [at 6.30pm].
That was the last time she stayed. Care home? More like a don't-care, couldn't-give-a-monkeys, just-give-us-your-money home.
And while we're on the subject of care staff, why do so many wear uniforms that look incredibly similar to NHS outfits worn by those who have actually worked and studied hard to become registered nurses? I am sure RGNs find it grossly insulting to be viewed by the public as one and the same.
But now mother-inlaw is in safe hands. She will be in a stress-free environment, with plenty of company, something that she desperately craves. She will be kept occupied and won't often be bored, although who's to say she won't have one of her packing sessions? [see this blog's first post, Home is where the heart is] And we can relax for a couple of weeks.
Those of you who are in similar situations will know the feeling. You're told to have respite breaks every six to eight weeks, but you go for months without doing anything about it. Then you guiltily make that booking. You're instantly hit by the change, suddenly aware that you hadn't realised how stressful your life was becoming. My wife already looks 10 years younger [what a creep I am]. A huge weight has been lifted.
Not having to listen to the same conversation, over and over again, makes an immediate difference. For example, my wife or I will give mum-in-law her tablets with her breakfast. The conversation which follows happens each and every day:

"Here you are, now don't forget to take them. You can have them with your orange juice or cup of tea."

"Oh, thank you dear. Lovely. I don't know how you remember these, err, what are they, erm ... tab, tablets? Yes, that's the right word. Tablets. I couldn't remem, remem, err remember the word. I can't seem to remember anything these days, you know. Silly me. I think I'm going barmy. The doggies have more sense than me.

"But I think these help. My eye doesn't hurt so much when I take these." [She has eye drops to ease pain after shingles in one eye, but here she is referring to the tablets].

You sometimes point out that the tablets are to help her memory, sometimes you just ignore the remark, but always, always you smile. And watch, because she will forget to take the medication placed by her plate or cereal bowl.

"I think I will take the big pink one [galantamine xl] first. Yes, I'll get rid of this nasty one first. Lovely. You're nasty, aren't you?" she says holding up the tablet, the one that has helped to slow the deterioration.

She then picks up her glass of orange [or cup of tea] and swills it down.

"Come on, down you go, you naughty boy. Ah, that's better. Lovely. He's gone down, now. I'm sure that will help my eye, you know. Give it a few minutes. Lovely."

Later, as she leaves the table after having drops in her bad eye, there is a gentle reminder about the other tablets still to be taken.

"Yes, I know!" she always says, emphatically. "I haven't forgotten them, you know." 

Anyone seen my Nan? Sweep is waiting for her

It takes a day or two to readjust in her temporary absence, to start thinking for yourself; to stop worrying about waking her up, about her bathing, about laying out clean clothes, about finding her dirty linen, mopping up urine and worse, searching for lost spectacles or a hearing aid, cooking her meals, remembering her medication, her mood swings, keeping her occupied, about her late-night wanderings, repeating instructions, the packing, unpacking, hallucinations  .... the list is endless.
What's that smell? Is something burning? No, it's not the smell of burning martyr. But my missus does deserve a break because her mum's condition is certainly deteriorating.
So, we can now look forward to a few peaceful nights, perhaps plan a couple of day trips. I think we might even go out for a meal. Hey, steady on, sir.
Sweep seems to be missing the old girl because he keeps rushing in to her rooms, downstairs and upstairs, as if in search of his Nana.
In the meantime, mother-in-law might well be regaling the other old ladies with her favourite tale about shouting at the "nasty" German bombers as they flew over her parents' garden, what a great sadness it was when her father died or the fact that she is planning to visit her mother in the near future. It's a horrible illness.