Sally

Today is our wedding anniversary. My Husband does not know, and for that I am glad. If he knew, he would be devastated at not having bought and written a card. No-one ever chose cards quite like he did. In all of our years together, I never opened and read one dry eyed.

What saddens me most about my husband's incapacity is his loss and deprivation of the things which he enjoyed, and which brought him such pleasure, and enriched his life.

As it is not easy to get out for any length of time, I now do most of my non-food shopping on line.

Generally speaking, this works very well, and I have mostly good experiences.

Whilst on my quest for seeking nursing homes which would offer both respite care, and an acceptable standard of care, I visited a place which I will call the Lawns, though it is nothing like that.

The district nurse came today whilst it was all action stations, so once she had attended to Robert's foot, I invited her to sit and write up her notes at the table in the kitchen, so that ablutions could continue in the bedroom.

I was enjoying that blissful time at dawn, when the birds have had to get up for choir practice, whilst you have the luxury of lying in for a bit longer.

Without any previous experience or training, I took on the role of Carer for my husband in May 2011, when he was discharged from hospital, after spending 4 months in the Stroke Unit.

As often as the round the clock care for my bed bound husband allows, I try to visit my elder brother, who is in a residential care home.

Very very occasionally, there are magic moments when patient care and every aspect of domesticity all 'come together'.

In my simplistic, layman's mind, I visualise my husband’s particular, mixed dementia as a huge, underground labyrinth of long, dark, mysterious, twisting tunnels. This disturbs me greatly, particularly perhaps because I am severely claustrophobic.