I read the Blog TG had published on 6th April, and her description of Mr G on the plane and in Abu Dhabi reminded me of the adventures of my mother in 1995. 

My poor mother lived a life full of disappointment. When things happened she saw them as problems not as opportunities. She had a view of her life which was in an entirely different reality and so then things happened to disrupt her ‘reality’ she was resentful. There are many blogs to write about my poor mum, but this one concentrates on the onset of dementia. 

Mum’s sudden deterioration shocked everyone. One day; she parked, got out of the car and squatted to relieve herself in the car park. We helped her dress herself afterwards and got her safely into the house, where a big cleanup happened. 

Our Canadian brother didn’t believe us; we were exaggerating. ‘Send her to me’ he insisted ‘I will look after her for a month’

Despite our misgivings, tickets were booked; Dad took her to Heathrow. What happened on the plane, I have no idea. But Dad came back shaken and seriously distressed.  

Two days later Canadian brother Colin phoned. He said ‘She is already on the flight to Heathrow. You’d better be there to collect her!’ 

In the two days in Colin’s home, she had set fire to her bedding, broken three large windows with her walking stick, hit his two children with her walking stick – leaving bruises and cuts and had peed in his neighbour’s garden. 

My sister in law (Larraine) and I set off in her car and somehow managed to get to Heathrow in time to meet mum who was escorted off the plane by security guards. She was in a wheelchair. Her goods and clothes were in large transparent plastic bags; she held a Bible over her head and bellowed loudly ‘I have found the Lord my God who is my Saviour!!’ 

Larraine said to me ‘Oh my god; my mother in law is a bag lady!’

Somehow we managed to wrestle her into the car and set off for the long drive home. She decided she needed to pee as we were held in a traffic jam on the M25; somehow we made it to Toddington Services. She ordered a gigantic breakfast of which she ate nothing, but stubbed out cigarettes into the fried eggs. 

Back in the car, she slept until we were again in traffic jam, this time on the A64 rounding York. She declared she had worn her clothes for ‘long enough’ and pulled them all off, sitting naked on the back seat of Larraine’s car. By dint of much struggling, I found a nightie for her to wear; which helped. 

Once back with Dad, she was quiet and compliant. And we all knew there was going to be so much more ahead. 

And there was. And that is for another Blog at a different time…

CMM

A Moodscope member