”There is no old age. There is as there always was, just you”  Carol Matthau

My grandad (now 99) was finally released from hospital on Thursday and taken by ambulance back to the lovely residential home I found for him. While he was in the hospital, I arranged to move him into a ground floor room that had became vacant – it means staff will be more likely to pop their head around his door and chat to him – and it will be easier for him to leave his room with his zimmer and go to the communal lounge etc. without requiring help. His reluctance to ask for help was causing him to become a bit isolated in his room. Also, he will now be able to see all the comings and goings, as his new room overlooks the front drive and entrance. These things are important at his age, because life becomes a spectator sport.

Although, he was excited by the idea of going home, it really unsettled him and he seems depressed again. Because the staff had kindly moved all his things from the first floor room to his new groundfloor one (I was working) – he didn’t know where everything was, and this bothered him, a lot. He became frantic about little things that he thought were missing – his reaction was way out of proportion for the items mislaid (an adapter plug, his dressing gown, an old shaving set he’s had 40 years etc.) I realised his anxiety was psychological, and probably linked with the “episodes” of dementia he has started to have in the last weeks – so I understood. I had to turn his room upside down to find the items that he thought were lost; it was exhausting emotionally and mentally – because the whole time I looked he was distressed and kept saying he wanted to die.

I found every item mislaid – and this seemed to calm him. I then sat and held his hand – and we shared a pot of tea and some lovely dark chocolate pear and ginger biscuits together (one of his birthday presents). I managed to sort his TV out (by nipping to the local electrical shop to buy an aerial connection) and by the time I left - he was settled happily in a comfy armchair, appearing calm and relaxed and watching ”Countdown” (one of his favourite television programmes).

I, however, felt completely rung out.

He’s only back at the residential home for a month’s trial – as they think he may now need nursing care. I am concerned about this – because he doesn’t seem to cope with any change now, and nursing homes are much more expensive. I’m bound to have a struggle on my hands (emotionally and fiscally) if they say he can’t stay.

Still, as my dear old grandad frequently says: Que sera, sera …..

PS: Since I always like to put pictures of sweet smelling lavender, when I talk about my grandad (to me symbolic of a silver haired, genteel old age, smelling of lavender) I thought I’d like to take the opportunity to provide a link to the Lavender Trust (raising money and awareness for young women with breast cancer.