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Sally

Sally

Carer
for a person with dementia

Without any previous experience or training, I took on the role of Carer for my husband, Robert (sometimes affectionately referred to as Wriggle Bum or 'WB'), in May 2011, when he was discharged from hospital, after spending 4 months in the Stroke Unit.

His many physical problems continue, with the added increase of his various types of dementia.

He continues to be a joy. I continue to be blessed

Sally

Each year, on the eve of my birthday, some very dear and thoughtful friends arrive.

Sally

Robert (Wiggle Bum) will be 85 next February, and I am dreading it.

Sally

Have you noticed the recent trend for politicians to sing the praises of carers, to acknowledge the billions the save the economy, to recognise they they should have, must have, breaks, and that they need support?

Sally

For over two weeks now, I have just given the mail a cursory look each morning, and then put it on the pending pile until I have time to deal with it. Which of course doesn't happen unless I neglect, or can juggle, other things which demand my attention.

Sally

A young neighbour, mother of two pre-school children, said to me “Sally, you are always smiling. I just don't know how you do it!”

Well, neither do I actually. But I'm a carer. It's what you are supposed to do.

Sally

When I first embarked on my role of carer, any help I had with WB's care was that which I bought from various care agencies, because that was the only way I knew.

Sally

Many of us might dream of a magic potion which would enable us to slough off a great chunk of years, maybe even return us to our youth.

Don't worry! If you have the misfortune to suffer memory loss, confusion, dementia, it will happen. I promise you, it will!

Sally

Before we married, WB [husband] lived at home with his widowed mother, the most delightful mother in law one could wish for, superbly old fashioned, and a slave to routines.

You know the scene, Monday is laundry, Tuesday scrub the floors and beat the rugs,

Sally

Many years ago, before we had any idea of what our own fate might be, we were slightly acquainted with a man and his wife, a very quiet couple, who regularly attended the same church as us.

Sally

I rang the Doctor's surgery as Wriggly Bum shows signs of another Squamous Cell Carcinoma.

Dr . SG himself came, in his irritatingly flash car (down girl, no need to get bitchy!).

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