Reminding myself who my beloved father is during Dementia Action Week
To mark Dementia Action Week, Herald content editor Gill Sutherland shares her experiences after her dad Tom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in January.
We nearly lost my dad Tom a number of times over the years. Prostate cancer, a quintuple heart bypass at 78, osteoarthritis of the spine which threatened to at least leave him in a wheelchair in his late 60s, and most recently kidney cancer – although slow acting.
On Christmas Day last year he had a massive pulmonary embolism that probably should have finished him off, but instead, after a nightmarish fortnight in hospital which saw him become increasingly delirious, he came home with the most dread diagnosis of all… At 85 it was decided he had Alzheimer’s. Something my mum, his constant companion for 65 years, had hinted at for a few years.
The diagnosis has helped, not least because it means he got put on donepezil, which reduces dementia symptoms and has really helped with his anxiety and sleeping problems.
Tom is what you might call a trooper – quite literally actually, an infantry man all his life. A proud Scot, he is a massive Celtic FC fan, and Robert the Bruce is his number one hero… or possibly it’s poet Robbie Burns, who was born 50 miles from dad’s hometown of Wigtown in Ayrshire. Dad can still toast a haggis or reduce listeners to tears with his recital of Burns’ A Red, Red Rose (which he read at my wedding in 2000).
Dad joined the army aged 17 – the kilt-wearing Queen’s Own Highlanders – having worked on the family smallholding and in the forests of Islay and Skye where his dad was a gamekeeper and forester. He’s had a life of adventure and served all over the world: Borneo, Aden, Singapore, Canada - he even busted opium dens manned by pirates off the South China Sea.
Besides his poetic leanings and love of history, my dad – one of six children - was a proverbial tough nut, a shouty goalkeeper, alpha male, top golfer, a tosser of the caber during Highland games, number two shot in the British army – and rose through the ranks from private to major. Major Tom’s proudest role, though, was being the fierce protector of his family – looking after me, my big sister Angela and wee Highlander mum Maureen; later he became a doting grandad to my three kids.
Why am I sharing all this?
To remind myself who my beloved father is, because sometimes it’s hard to hold on to.
Looking after someone with dementia requires incredible feats of patience. While they are being demanding, sulky, paranoid, delusional, aggressive - it’s all too easy to forget this is the disease talking, and not who they really are. I’ve learned that it’s all about putting love over annoyance – much trickier than it sounds.
I now follow a number of bloggers on social media who share the minutiae and trials of looking after elderly loved ones with dementia – and I’m trying to encourage Mum to go along to a dementia café, so she doesn’t feel so isolated.
It’s been so helpful to learn the value of gentle reassurance and some of the diversionary techniques when extreme moments of troubled confusion strike. Talking about past family memories, playing the country and western music that my dad loves and looking at old photos all helps put a smile on his face. And it also serves as reminder to us what a tremendous force for love and good that he’s been and continues to be.
As I say none of it is easy. But we’re taking the time to be mindful that we are lucky that dad is still with us. Dementia is part of life, and it’s important we try not to see it as a horrible burden, but as part of a natural progression towards the end of a treasured and bravely lived life.
Love you, Dad.
Dementia Action Week (until19th May) leads a campaign to improve dementia diagnosis rates. To find out more visit www.alzheimers.org.uk
