And this year I'm going home for Christmas and I can't wait. Another countdown until I see my beautiful children. We aren't all together and that makes me a bit sad. Only a bit though because a few years ago I realised that I could not dictate that my children see me every Christmas. Now, those of you that know me will also know that Christmas is my favourite time of year but Ben and Bex have their own lives and need to live them without any guilt from me (Oi you two, shhhh). I do have a new plan though! I know I can't expect them both to spend every Christmas with me but what I am hoping is that every other year we will all get together for Christmas in my home in England. All of us together; a Christmas that I can host and do all of my Christmas rituals, the ones we have done since Ben was a baby. And I will do that until I'm too old and then they can take it in turns to host our family Christmas. The alternate years they should, quite rightly be with their other families, their new family. It's how it should be. I would rather see them both every other year and they also see each other, than one year I see Ben and the next Bex. That way they will also see each other over Christmas. Rick and I will use the other years to catch up with family and friends or even a sneaky Christmas away.
But it will be a bitter sweet Christmas this year. My amazing mum has Alzheimer's and she will not know us as clearly next year. Sadly, she will be in a care home and I know that familiar surroundings will be the best for her. Of course I shall visit her on Christmas Day but I won't want to disrupt her routine or care. It's a horribly sad thought but I need to be realistic.
Alzheimer's is a chronic neurodegenerative disease that accounts for 60-70% of dementia cases. It starts slowly with short term memory loss and gets worse over time. Over the last 18 months I've watched mum slowly lose her intellectual and social skills, to the point where it now affects her day to day life. Her first signs where forgetfulness and a mild confusion. You would be chatting away and she was fine, then suddenly her train of thought would be lost and you would need to back track over the conversation before she could join in again. Nothing too obvious but enough to set off a warning bell for us all. Her GP diagnosed short term memory loss and eventually she was seen at a memory clinic who prescribed medication to slow down the process. Sadly, this was all a bit too late and, although the medication seemed to work for a while, the deterioration still progressed.
At this point I realised that mum needed help at home if she wanted to maintain her independence. Who was I to insist she left the home where she had lived my dad? Who was I to take away her independence and sense of self worth? It's important that she maintained not only her dignity and independence but also that she maintained her ability to function on a daily basis. By helping her at home we were able to continue like this for over a year. We pay for carers to go in everyday, originally just to keep her company and take her out for lunch or shopping, to the hairdressers or to see friends; then about a year ago mum had a terrible fall backwards down an escalator. So scary for both her and the carer. And since then the Alzheimer's has rapidly increased to the point where she can't remember conversations, prepare or cook her meals. She will tell you it's a wet day and then tell you again a minute later. She knows who we all are and repeatedly asks about Ben and Bex but can't remember where they live or what they do. Every time I speak to her she asks when I'm coming home, forgetting that I try and fly home every 6-8 weeks to spend a few days with her. And it's breaking my heart. As I'm writing this I'm sitting in Costa Coffee, trying not to cry.
Now these wonderful carers go in for a longer period of time each day. They make sure she's up and has had breakfast, they help her shower and cook her lunch. They take her to her Dr's appointments as well as all the previous care they were giving. And mum loves them all; she has her favourites and will openly tell them if they're a favourite. She laughs and giggles and thoroughly enjoys the company. Once or twice a week they set up FaceTime and mum and I chat for anything from 30 minutes to an hour. I look forward to these chats so much. I know we repeat everything and as soon as we say goodbye she won't remember that we've chatted, but for that moment in time she does know me and we enjoy each other's company. We tell each other how much love and miss each other. And I leave her happy, knowing that the carer is giving her the love and time she deserves; that they are filling the void that I should be filling, but for now I can't.
I'm waiting for the day I can move home and fulfil my hearts desire; to care for and nurse my beautiful mum as my dad would want me too. To be there for her as I was for him, right to the end. And even if she forgets who I am, I know that her heart and soul will always know and love me, that I am her safe place.
I love you mum, forever and always.