Monthly Archives: June 2016

Mum doesn’t know who’s running the country.

One of the basic questions in the test for dementia is whether you know the name of the prime minister. But at the moment I think mum can be forgiven for not knowing who’s in charge. Like many people in UK we’ve been in shock since the results of the referendum to leave the European Union were announced. In fact, the situation is so momentous I really have to blog about it.

Both mum and I voted to remain in Europe. As we live in an area with a high proportion of Leave voters I know for a fact that many people thought leaving the EU would magically improve aspects of their lives which had nothing to do with Europe at all. Of course, some people will have voted Leave after serious thought. I hope for all our sakes that their assessment of the situation may prove correct – but it’s not looking that way at the moment.

It’s become clear that David Cameron, who’s just resigned as Prime Minister, didn’t expect to lose the referendum – and that Boris Johnson, his rival in the Leave campaign, didn’t expect to win. It gets better. There’s no strategy in place for leaving the EU; no one even knows who’s going to be on the negotiating team. This huge event has happened and the people who should be dealing with it seem to be in as much shock as the rest of us.  The whole thing was to do with internal politics of the ruling elite and now the rest of us have to pay the price.

The win, which was by a margin of less than 2%, has revealed a huge fault line running through UK society. People say we must pull together, but I think it’s important to acknowledge that it was such a close result. Many people have remarked they’ve heard better and more sensible debates about the issues involved in the last few days than in all the weeks leading up to the referendum, which was marred by venial and spiteful lies.

I think one reason Leave won was that they seized control of the discourse. And they should not be allowed to do that again. Already, one of the oft repeated slogans is that this has been a victory for ‘ordinary decent people’ – as if the 16 million plus people who voted Remain were not decent, were not ordinary. As if there are 16 million bankers and industrialists opposed to those decent people who voted Leave. I do find this personally offensive.

However, it’s too late now. What should never have happened has happened and we have to live with the consequences. Those of us who wanted to be Europeans can be so no longer. But when mum says she doesn’t know who’s running the country, I can assure her: no one else knows either!

 

 

I have existential nausea

It’s three weeks since I got back from my respite break – and for most of that time I’ve been trying to write a blog post but haven’t been able to complete one. I’ve been sunk into a slough of despond, I only want to sit around and read the paper. Thank god I had planned a few meetings with friends and they helped to lift me out of the depression.

I had a very nice time away: too nice, actually. I paid a visit to the village where I lived when I was a student; then drove up to Ely in Cambridgeshire with some old friends from Sydney. I’d never been there and it is quite lovely, very historic. After that I spent a few days with friends in London. Finally, I had a couple of days back here on my own, mainly clearing out mum’s bedroom – a task I can’t complete while she’s here.

The weekend I spent by myself made me realise just how much time and energy it takes to look after mum. I could get up when I wanted, I didn’t have to fit around mum’s timetable and the carer’s schedule. I could go to bed when I like, I didn’t have to wait until I could get mum settled.

And in between my chores, I could actually relax – read or watch a DVD. When she’s here, I can’t relax. I might think I’ve got a chance to get on with some project of my own – but then she calls me: she’s having a disaster, she’s spilt tea down herself and needs to be changed; she’s wet her trousers and needs to be changed; she’s constipated, stuck on the loo and needs to be talked to…. Then there’s the continual barrage of repetitive questions, which she just shouts out, no matter if I’m far away, in the middle of cooking, in the garden – or indeed in the loo! And there’s the sudden taking offence at some innocent remark I’ve made. All of this drains my energy.

Also, while I was alone, I could listen to the radio. This made me feel I was in touch with the world, gaining information and learning something new while I worked away. I can’t listen to the radio when she’s here because it annoys her – ‘too much talking’ – (although I have to spend hours trying to block out the noise of the TV which she always has on very loudly.)

Anyway, when she got home, I couldn’t get back into the swing of things. I resented the situation and felt like a drudge, an unpaid skivvy who is working my arse off while she just has everything to her advantage and there’s nothing to mine. I saw clearly how limiting this life is for me and how precious my time is, as I’m not so young anymore either. How many healthy years do I have left myself? I seriously considered the alternatives. Could I put mum permanently into the care home? Eventually the answer came back:  Not Yet.

I don’t know how much longer I will be able to stand it. I said originally I could do it for 2 years, or 3 at the most, so in October I will reassess the situation. And who knows how things will be by then.

In the words of Samuel Beckett: I can’t go on, I’ll go on. For now.