Dementia Stole my Mother

My wonderful mother

My son and I went to visit my lovely mum at the care home today. She was so pleased to see us well, I say us but, to be honest it was Ollie she was pleased to see. I was just happy mum was having a good day.  Sadly during some visits mum’s dementia is foremost leaving her once beautiful, animated eyes devoid of any life and her mumbling go away!

Dignity

Smelling of shite, my nappy needs changing.

Breath like a sewer, a cap lost from my tooth.

Plaque and food detritus ruining my smile.

Hair greasy and frowsy, I don’t want to shower.

Slouched, nodding off in my chair.

Mouth agape dribbling and catching flies.

Large purple and yellowing bruise to my forehead.

I fell again or so they say.

My feet like overstuffed sausages 

protruding from my sandals. My shoes have been lost.

My handbag caked in remnants of yesterday’s meals.

My mind, what mind, who’s mind?

You call it living, I call it abuse.

Where is the dignity

Then I had an epiphany moment mum is not suffering, she is as happy as can be in whatever world she now occupies. It is only those that knew her before this, awful plague on humanity stole her wits and left behind a shuffling shell, that suffer.

Childhood Revisited

I am warm, I feel safe, I can hear music.