A Bit of a Wobble
My husband and I had a holiday and the unclenching, that letting go, that holding on less tight - well, it gave us a rocky few days.
Quick Take:
Two weeks’ holiday was wonderful - coming back to our home to full-time care hit hard.
I over-prepare because in dementia care, small changes don’t stay small.
The hardest part isn’t illness - it’s the thought of Milly being alone and afraid.
Thank You for Checking In
A few lovely readers noticed I’d gone a bit quiet and I really appreciated you checking in. Milly is fine - well, she is now. And I’m good too.
My husband and I had two weeks away and, although the break was needed, coming home hit hard. We were already exhausted before we went - it’s been a year since Milly fell and moved in with us, and this was our first proper break together. We came back snappy with each other and more than a little depressed at the thought of stepping back into full-time care and all the commitment and restriction that brings.
Before We Could Go
When you’re a nurse, you know how much basic nursing care matters. That makes it very hard to let go and hand over to carers who may not have the training you wish they had.
I try to make everything as straightforward as possible because I know how hard it is to walk into someone else’s home and take over their care. Honestly, I don’t know how carers manage 15-30 minute visits for a toilet check or a meal. I would need a full handover, time to read the notes, and half an hour just to understand how I was going to manage the call.
When Milly goes back to her flat, where there is a bedroom next door for the live-in carer, I prepare everything: medical notes, medications, routines, possible problems, even photographs of meals so carers know what a normal portion looks like.
But making things “simple” takes me a good ten days of preparation. And annoys my husband because he worries about me.
Obsessive?
My family think it’s super-care - possibly obsessive, maybe controlling. Mostly I think they worry about how much I carry before we even leave the house.
But I’m also the one who picks up the pieces afterwards.
I don’t expect carers to do things exactly as I do, but preparation gives Milly the best chance not just to cope, but to stay well.
She did fall while we were away and she wasn’t well when she came home. Nearly a week on, she is only just beginning to settle again - physically as much as mentally. In reality, it’s the physical impact that takes the longest to recover from.
No blame at all - the live-in carers were wonderful and genuinely cared for Milly. But it reminded all of us why I go to such lengths before we leave.
With dementia, small disruptions rarely stay small.
And the Wobble?
My husband and I needed a couple of days apart when we got back. That sounds dramatic written down, but perhaps it was serious in its own way. We were both low and struggling with the weight of coming home to it all again.
But the space also gave us time to think about what really matters.
Not his Mother - and that Matters
I know many people will feel sorry for my husband. After all, it is not his mother needing full-time care and living in our home.
I worry about it too.
But this is a decision we made together - and one we keep revisiting, adjusting and reconsidering as life changes around us.
A care home may still be the right answer one day.
The holiday reminded him, especially, what life could look like without the constant responsibility.
Coming home meant we both had to think again about what we can manage, what matters most and how we carry on well - not just for Milly, but for us too.
Alone
While we were apart, I heard about another woman in her nineties who had fallen at home. A neighbour found her nearly 24 hours later.
I know she has been struggling for a while. I know she has two daughters. I also know she had an elderly cat who was already unwell and now will probably have to be put to sleep.
Meanwhile, the lady herself is in hospital and extremely poorly. She may not die, but she requires surgery and her mental health has declined significantly.
Her family are devastated.
And that story stayed with me.
The Guilt
It would not devastate me if Milly became seriously ill. At ninety, I know illness and death are part of the landscape now.
No. It would be the guilt.
The thought of her suffering alone. Frightened. Waiting for help that didn’t come quickly enough.
That is the bit I cannot bear.
I know what I am doing is right. At least for me. At least for now.
And the Angry Husband?
The break gave my husband space to think too.
The endless wars. The constant bad national and international news. The anger people carry around. The loneliness. The sheer sadness that sits underneath so much modern life.
He said his priorities became clearer too.
Finding Each Other Again
In the end, we were simply very glad to be back together again, especially after such a wonderful time away.
And my goodness, Milly is loving all the extra affection.
As for me, I’m wondering how long it will take before one of us becomes grumpy again.
Hopefully not until I’ve got Milly fully settled and back to her best self!