Thursday

I took Jim into the residential aged care facility in Mount Clear on Thursday. His dementia has become noticeably worse recently and his behaviour has become somewhat erratic. Not violent, but confused, particularly first thing in the morning. He would get up and start rushing about because he had to catch the bus to work, or go to the football (by bus!) in Southampton, or go somewhere else by bus. I'm not sure why the buses. He hasn't ever been a regular commuter by bus. 

I was beginning to feel as though I was living in a TS Eliot poem. Not a specific poem - just the sense of wandering about in the rain wearing a grey coat and popping into greasy spoon cafes and drinking poorly made tea. And catching buses (do they catch buses in TS Eliot's world?) It was quite hard persuading him that running out into the early morning light, in the drizzly rain and cold was not a good plan. ("Oh dear; you've missed the football - they've just blown the final whistle" "Going to work? But it's Sunday. You don't work on Sundays") I was also beginning to worry about leaving him at home alone when I went out, and I have to go out sometimes.

He was going to go in for another fortnight's respite but I decided that it would be better if he just went in as a permanent resident, for continuity and consistency. He can come home or go out for lunch or afternoon tea or whatever when (my) time and the weather permit. With Stella, who is in the same facility but not in the memory unit. There is nothing wrong with Stella's memory.

He was asleep when I called in on Friday and wasn't much inclined to chat when I woke him up. He was more alert this afternoon and seemed cheery enough. I am up at Rupert and Hugo's place  this weekend, while Lindsey and Ian are away. I am planning to bring both Jim and Stella up here tomorrow for lunch. Getting them both here without the assistance of another able-bodied responsible adult may be a challenge, but we'll give it a go.