Mrs H.
We were woken up at 5am this morning by the police banging on the door. Our elderly neighbour, Mrs H., who lives down stairs had been found in a ‘confused state’ wandering the streets. The police officers had somehow figured out where she lived and delivered her home.
Just a few months ago I’d been happily conversing with Mrs H. in the hallway. She was proud of her grandchildren going to university, annoyed with tiresome salesmen trying to flog her satellite TV and wondering whether there was an optimum time to cut the hedge. Although several decibels louder than usual, conversation was normal, lucid and flowing. Things were fine.
Then we noticed that Mrs H. was starting to forget things and beginning to repeat herself. Her daughters noticed too and arranged for a daily visit from a care worker to check that she was alright. Mrs H. confided in us that she hated this. There seemed to be different carer everyday and they always bossed her around – of course she’d remember to take her medicine, she didn’t need to be told what to do. I empathised with her, but told her that it was always good to have another reminder, we all forget things sometimes. Yes, she agreed, sometimes she did forget little things.
Then Mrs H. forgot something big. A few weeks ago I was awoken by the sound of someone trying the key in our door downstairs. I went to investigate. Mrs H. was there, fully dressed, smart with her handbag in the corridor. She was upset, she wanted to go shopping but couldn’t get back into her flat. It was 4am. Her door was open and she had confused her flat, where she has lived for more than 20 years, for ours. I gently tried to explain the problem, escorted her to her bedroom and helped her take off her shoes. Although she trusted me, she didn’t seem to know who I was or what she had been doing.
And now this morning, Mrs H. was again lost, bewildered and confused. I dare say we don’t see much more of her. Like the man next door who we used to share gardening tips and beers with over the back fence – he ‘had a fall’, was taken away and we found all his possessions in a skip out the front of the house – her long life on our suburban street will probably come to an abrupt end.
God, I fear old age.
June 5th, 2009 at 12:44 pm
Gosh that’s sobering. It comes to us all. Hopefully not yet. Wandering the streets in your nightclothes is always the beginning of the end.
June 5th, 2009 at 2:37 pm
That sounds exactly like my elderly aunt in Cornwall, was right as rain, but has all those symptoms now . As you say, terrifying and depressing that it could happen to any of us
June 5th, 2009 at 4:20 pm
Yes, and I suspect it really will happen to me. Alzheimer’s and dementia seem to run in the family. We’re all doomed!
June 5th, 2009 at 6:12 pm
something to look forward to…. If I get past the 100% cancer rate that seems to knock off all my decendents on BOTH sides…. Wish they’d hurry up n find a cure.
June 5th, 2009 at 6:13 pm
God that’s sad. My Mum had Alzheimer’s and that kind of scenario is so familiar. As she got worse and more confused, she would ring my eldest sister up to thirty times a day just to get reassurance that she was in the right place, or that they would be coming to pick her up as they’d promised.
I’ve made a deal with myself that once I pass a certain point, I shall be getting on a cross-channel ferry with as much Valium as I can get my hands on, and a few breeze-blocks in my pockets…splash!
June 6th, 2009 at 11:34 am
Oh, I know how you feel Piley. Cancer is pretty rampant in my family as (I really am doomed). The doctor says the particular type is not genetic, but I remain suspicious.
ISBW, that must have been very hard. Both my grandfathers had Alzheimer’s and both provided me with some of the most harrowing memories of my life. As a consequence, the concepts of euthanasia and assisted suicide are also quite popular in our family. My mother has been giving me instructions on this for years!