Dementia on a Starr-lit night

The Beatles' hit song and film, A Hard Day's Night, had an unusual title taken from a phrase used by Ringo Starr to describe a very long working day that ended well into the night. Paul McCartney called it one of Ringo's "malapropisms" and John Lennon aptly described it as a "Ringoism". My missus and I know exactly what the drummer meant after our experiences of yesterday [not to be confused with another Beatles song].

Rock royalty: Ringo with his All-Starr band
in Rome last year Picture: Hotelrome.net

We were up early and got through a huge amount of work by lunch-time. Mother-in-law, who has been having a few disturbed nights, was up and about by late morning after my wife had run her a bath and laid out her clean clothes. Suffice to say, she appeared wearing the previous day's outfit but, with a little persuasion and guidance, she went back to her room and changed. But as she did so she said: "I know what I've done. I just didn't want to dirty my clean skirt." So there, stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Na-na na-na na-na.
That sort of logic set the tone and we knew it would not be an easy day in our part of the rain-drenched Fens. It wasn't. She finally retired to bed at about 10.30pm and she had not even napped in her leather Chesterfield. We thought, we hoped, that she would be exhausted ... we were certainly knackered.
The same remark, the same childhood memory or the same question, over and over again, can wear you down and severely test your patience. You must adopt a fixed smile as you repeat the same answer. For her, it's the first time she's asked the question and the first time she's heard the answer. You say to yourself: "Stay cool. She has Alzheimer's. She can't help it."http://alzheimers.org.uk/
And then .... let the dirty linen hunt begin! Forget those Easter egg searches every year. What about foul underwear every day. Looking for dirty knickers or tights in the most obscure places - not just in one of her many handbags - can be very trying. "Mum, please try to remember to use the linen basket for your dirty things," my wife must say at least a dozen times each week.

Roll of honour: a mystery object

"Yes, dear. But I put them there because, err, I thought, well I thought they might be useful there," is a typical reply, as my wife fishes out dirty drawers from dusty drawers, from under cushions, in a coat pocket or anywhere else you might care to imagine.
[I once taped a printed sign on the linen basket lid: "Dirty clothes in here please." Thought it was a reasonable way of reminding someone suffering from dementia. The sign disappeared after a day.]
Small furniture and ornaments begin to move. Was that vase really under that chair earlier in the day? The curse of the poltergeist? No, I'm afraid not.
Packing has commenced, in a haphazard way. Wardrobes are emptied and the contents stuffed in bags. Suddenly, mum-in-law appears with a toilet-roll holder. She mumbles as she scratches her head with her free hand.
"I think this must have belonged to dear old Harold [husband]. I don't know what it is, though," she says.
Avoiding sarcasm, you point out that it should be in her toilet. Incidentally, incontinence is becoming worse, and that means more unsavoury chores for my wife.
"Oh yes, I just moved this because I was sorting my things out," comes the reply. "I'm having a tidy-up, you see. I knew it was a, err, you know, a ..."
"Toilet-roll holder?"
"Yes, one of those."
Helping her to place items back in drawers and her wardrobe, stacking books, photo albums and old cds takes some time but she eventually settles and we all watch TV for a couple of hours. She seems happy but tired at supper time, as she sips a cup of tea and nibbles her favourite biscuits. We are convinced that she will sleep soundly.
But how wrong could we be. She did not get into bed until 3.45am. Why? Because she was "tidying up" and "putting things in order."
As we lay in bed, wide awake, it sounded as though there were several people in my mother-in-law's room. In fact, she was talking to herself or inanimate objects: "Come on my lovely, let's put you here. I need to tidy you up. And you will look better here. Oh, you're barmy. Listen to you. You're talking to yourself, young lady. Young lady! [Laughter] Oh, listen to you. You're not so young any more, are you? Oh well, not to worry. Let's put you here - and I'll put you there. That's it. Ahh, lovely."
We initially went into her room on such nights when she first came to live with us and urged her to get to sleep. But when her bedroom light was switched off and we had left the room, you'd soon hear movement again, followed by something like: "Now then, I'll move you over here and I'll put you there so that I can sort you out properly later. I think you should go here and ..."
Experience tells us that it's best to try to leave her, unless she seems agitated. A nightlight illuminates the landing area so that she won't fall in darkness should she suddenly decide to go walkabout, or if she wants to say hello to the dogs downstairs. On such occasions, that means leaping out of bed and trying to intercept her.
Yes Ringo, it was a hard day's night, but we'll try to get by with a little help from our friends.