From a Sun Lounger to a Care Home Bed

As promised, here is my part two or the continuation from the last piece.

Just a quick recap from the previous post:

So I went to Greece (didn’t really want to go) with a friend and spent the weekend filling in an online job application. On Sunday evening, an hour after pressing ‘send’ my mother’s nursing home called to say that they didn’t think she had long left to live. I got a flight the next day back to the UK. Just as I was about to board the flight the nursing home called again to say she had made a full recovery and wasn’t dying after all. I still boarded the flight and after not killing anybody with my nuts on the plane, spending forever at passport control then finding my luggage on the wrong carousel, I entered arrivals at Bristol Airport to be met by my brother. So, continuing the story..

We drove straight down to the care home in Newton Abbot, Devon. Known as Ilford Park it was originally established in 1948 and was one of 45 resettlement camps housing Polish veterans after the war. In 1991 it was opened as a care home for Polish veterans and their spouses. It is 200 miles away from London. It is also over 1000 miles away from Poland, yet this little corner of Devon became home for hundreds of Poles.

It was early evening when we arrived at the home, the staff were extremely apologetic that they called me and that it turned out to be a false alarm. I was just relieved that I got there in time, even though I didn’t need to get there in time. When I went into my mother’s room, she was wide awake, looking straight ahead, somewhere in the distance in her own world. I tried as hard as I could to get some kind of a reaction from her. I know I was really annoying. It didn’t work. She carried on ignoring me. I waved my hand in front of her face she didn’t even blink. I walked around the bed trying to catch her eyes, even bobbing up and down, still no reaction. I held her hand and she gave it a slight squeeze. I think. Then came dinner. Suddenly like magic, she stirred, opened her mouth and allowed herself to be fed. When everything was gone, she kind of switched off again. That’s the only way I can describe it but at least if nothing else, she is still eating and still loving her food.

On the way back to the UK I had already decided to stay on for a few days, after all I was still on holiday and I didn’t have much else to do. The staff were kind enough to give me a room that was empty on the first floor, in fact all the rooms were resident free or used by the night staff. It had an ensuite shower, a kettle and small fridge. It had the same layout as my mother’s room, the same décor, the same furniture and even the same smell. For the first time in my life, I was going to experience living in a care home. It was quite surreal. It wasn’t Greece though and definitely wasn’t hot.

To be honest, the first night I didn’t sleep all that well, I kept thinking about how I would have felt if she had gone and I never got the chance to say goodbye to her? How would I feel? To be honest I have been saying goodbye to her every time I have left her. I have been mourning her life since she was first diagnosed with Dementia all those years ago and my grieving process started a long time ago, probably when she stopped recognising me.

It’s hard seeing her and it’s hard not seeing her and yes, I will admit, I’m not visiting her enough at all. To be honest. I hate seeing her the way she is right now. I hate the fact that she doesn’t recognise me. I hate it that she can’t respond to me anymore, can’t laugh, can’t smile, can’t even tell me off or comment on my hair or that she hates me always wearing black and I really hate the fact that she can no longer give me a hug. I hate it all and seeing her lying there in that state breaks my heart. So, do I really enjoy going to see her? No, I will admit, I don’t.

Yet I should be grateful and feel lucky that she is still here and still alive. She is after all the ‘Mothership’ and her soul is still alive and radiates out to all her children like radio waves. I will say that I do have moments when I have these strong feelings that I need to see her. Is this maybe her radiating her feelings, her needing to see us, her children? This time, did she fake her own imminent death to bring me back from a holiday that I didn’t actually want to be on? Was she maybe missing me and needing to see me? Who knows? But I will say this when I do spend time with her, I do actually feel energised. Not sure whether there is this energy about her or whether it’s because I’m happy that I have fulfilled my duties as a daughter?

I also thought about the person that stayed in the room that I was staying in. What were they like? What was their story? I then thought about all the people that might have stayed in this room, over the years, on this corridor, in this home. They were all thousands of miles away from their original family homes. So many people that lived here, displaced, far from the country they were born in. Unable to go back, too old to be moved, a decision perhaps not their own.

Did they also stare out into the distance, in their own world thinking about the life they once had, the homes they left behind, their families, their friends, together with the pain, the sorrow and the trauma of going through the war. I felt such sadness and wondered whether perhaps having dementia later on in life might come as a blessing to help forget the painful heart breaking memories of death and war.

Unable to sleep properly, I ended up writing, stuff. I even wrote an email to my younger son about the things I wished for him and the life lessons I wanted to share. Things I wanted him to read and know now, not in 30 odd years time when it really is my time to go. I did explain at the bottom of the email that I hadn’t gone mad and my thoughts were the result of my current stay in babcia’s care home. Personally, I really don’t think he actually even cared.

Thank you for reading my blog. Just wanted to add that I didn’t have any photos of the care home, but I thought these ones of Tooting Bec Common were nice and it might make up for the piece being so bleak!!!