"God puts rainbows in the clouds so that each of us - in the dreariest and most dreaded moments - can see a possibility of hope." [Maya Angelou]
I find I have dark days amongst my mostly bright weeks, and I've recently realised that the darker times are brought on by my losing hope for things to improve for Mum. I cannot imagine anyone would actively choose to live with dementia: it doesn't somehow make the person more spiritually aware or more in tune with other aspects of their creativity or more thankful for what they have, so I live in constant hope to make life more interesting and comfortable for Mum. I want Mum to feel understood when the right words simply won't make it from her thoughts to her mouth.
I hope that the "new" medicine Mum is prescribed will help her express herself more easily. I can see Mum's frustrations when I can't work out what she's trying to say, but I'm more certain now that almost every word I utter, Mum can understand. I didn't have that feeling a year or so ago. Making the medicinal progress means I have less worry about whether Mum is content as I can ask her, and although she struggles to reply succinctly and coherently on her own I can offer possible answers and Mum can indicate which is the closest to how she feels.
I have much learning to make on this journey and maybe my imagination gets carried away, but for now I see this improvement in our communication as our own little rainbow of hope.
If you would like to share your experiences of caring email: Write-to-Hannah@hotmail.co.ukFor further information about the services and support available from the Alzheimer's Society visit www.alzheimers.org.uk or call 0300 2221122
I find I have dark days amongst my mostly bright weeks, and I've recently realised that the darker times are brought on by my losing hope for things to improve for Mum. I cannot imagine anyone would actively choose to live with dementia: it doesn't somehow make the person more spiritually aware or more in tune with other aspects of their creativity or more thankful for what they have, so I live in constant hope to make life more interesting and comfortable for Mum. I want Mum to feel understood when the right words simply won't make it from her thoughts to her mouth.
I hope that the "new" medicine Mum is prescribed will help her express herself more easily. I can see Mum's frustrations when I can't work out what she's trying to say, but I'm more certain now that almost every word I utter, Mum can understand. I didn't have that feeling a year or so ago. Making the medicinal progress means I have less worry about whether Mum is content as I can ask her, and although she struggles to reply succinctly and coherently on her own I can offer possible answers and Mum can indicate which is the closest to how she feels.
I have much learning to make on this journey and maybe my imagination gets carried away, but for now I see this improvement in our communication as our own little rainbow of hope.
If you would like to share your experiences of caring email: Write-to-Hannah@hotmail.co.ukFor further information about the services and support available from the Alzheimer's Society visit www.alzheimers.org.uk or call 0300 2221122