Today was a ‘taster’ day or rather an assessment of suitability for accessing adult day care for dementia Mum.
Providing Mum with enough mental stimulation is perhaps where I worry I can’t quite match up. We were never super close. She was always a glass half empty person. She never really had hobbies and the personal interests she did have now don’t appeal.
It’s hard to get Mum interested in anything much aside from looking at the birds in the garden. The rest of the time she bemoans the sheer pointlessness of her existence. But then that’s how she always was. Amazingly dementia occasionally gives her a child-like sense of wonder I’ve never seen before. But things turn on a sixpence (to quote a pre-decimal currency saying).
The fibre optic novelty light that held her transfixed can suddenly become something that’s “not up to much”. I can relate to these change of moods as they mirror the black cloud that can so suddenly descend on those of us who cope with depression. Out of nowhere a sense of pointlessness.
As is the case with today’s flurry of mental stimulation. All laughs when I picked her up after her few hours sampling day care. Now she says “I’ll pay for this” and it was all too much. Good experiences often get re-experienced through rain tinted glasses. Pick-me-up experiences become pointless, distressing, nightmarish. Reality and the unconscious, the dream world and the imagined are all valid. You can’t tell a dementia sufferer that something is in their imagination because imagination is as real as the supposed ‘real’.
Anyway the specialist day care centre is happy to have her one day a week. Maybe it’s more about giving me a break than giving Mum a more stimulating environment.
What do I want to do with this time off? Sleep. Just sleep.