Regular readers will know I visit my dear old Grandad at his nursing home, at least once a week. He’s 99 years and 7 months old, so I’m only too aware he won’t be around much longer. Since very few people survive to be as old as my grandad – it’s the road less travelled ….

I’m never quite sure what I will find when I arrive at the nursing home. Sometimes of late, he is depressed and feeling poorly (mentally & physically) and he wants to give up and die; I come away upset. Other times he is his lovely old self and we chat and share a pot of tea and some chocolate biscuits – and he says he’s looking forward to his telegram from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 2nd, and I come away smiling.

It’s difficult being that old (sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything) and it’s also heart-breaking for those that observe the disintegration. You feel an overwhelming desire to make things better – but you can’t. All you can do is ensure the day to day comforts and care are the best that they can be. There’s no magic wand to wave to make old age better – if there was, I’d be first in the queue to purchase one.

Fortunately, Grandad isn’t a complainer – he generally makes the best of things. However, he is having more and more bouts of dementia. Sometimes they will just take the form of repetition (he will ask me the same question over and over) – I always treat each question as if he had asked it for the first time. That way it doesn’t make him feel confused or depressed. Sometimes he will tell me things that have happened today, that in reality happened maybe sixty years ago or more – I don’t show any surprise. I just listen, comment, chat as if it were actually today they happened. He seems comfortable with this response. Sometimes he tells me his beloved wife has visited and sat by his chair and held his hand all day (she actually died many years ago). Sometimes the past and the present merge in a kind of strange realism, but at the same time he has a glimmer of thought that what he is saying happened can’t actually be true. Only then does he feel a little confused, maybe panicky, and he ask for clarification.

For instance when he told me on my last visit, that Eileen (his deceased wife) visited again, he asked me where she slept “because it’s not here with me,” he said. He looked puzzled and confused.

I paused for a moment, unsure of what to say (did I admit she was dead and couldn’t visit, or alive, in which case where was she sleeping? ) – then I answered, “In Heaven Grandad, Eileen sleeps in Heaven – because she died many years ago now, didn’t she?” (I like to be as honest as possible).

A look of sheer relief and happiness came over his face, “Of course” he said, “that’s where she disappears to, when she leaves me!”

I don’t know if I say the right thing. I don’t know what the right thing to say is. It’s all guess work; trial and error. There’s no such thing as a handbook on how to handle these situations. I just follow instinct and hope for the best.

~

When I travel to visit Grandad I drive down the coast road in the image below – it is quite a beautiful and uplifting view, so I thought I’d share it. This is a panoramic image I created stitching 5 photographs together (with the aid of a panoramic assist programme).  I took these five photos today – it is just a little cloudy and overcast, but I still think the view looked stunning. Can you see the sea? It’s on the left hand side of the photograph, peeping through the “V” shaped dip between the hills.

Click on the image below to see an enlarged version: