Day 2,101 in the Nanny June Care Home

The One With The Diva & Her Baby Memories

Today Nanny June still didn’t recognise me but the concept of who I am was back!

Dementia is confusing for everyone. There’s no such thing as ‘knowing who I am’ or not. That’s ridiculously over simplifying something very complex which changes each day.

She never recognises my face. But sometimes knows my voice.

She never remembers what makes me, me.

But occasionally she knows I am a daughter she loves.

She doesn’t know my favourite curry is a passanda, or that I love being by the sea.

She doesn’t know anything about my hopes and dreams.

She doesn’t know I am a mother myself.

She doesn’t know it was my birthday was last week. Or how old I am.

Today however (in between the times where she thinks I am her sister) there are moments when she knows she is my mum and when I explained who I was she exclaimed “the little one on the end!” (I was a unexpected baby and there’s a big gap between me and my siblings). The memory of baby me obviously flooded Nanny June with lots of lovely feelings - which was especially amazing after the experience of my last visit.

Especially precious because every memory like this might easily be her final memory of me altogether.

Nanny June struggled a lot with the social distancing arrangements today. Possibly prompted by a rush of affection for me as a baby. Nanny June REALLY wanted physical contact from me today and during our visit was constantly agitated at the measures in place to keep us apart. The home do very well to make these measures look ‘nice’; little white picket fences mark out our areas and there are flower arrangements in the forced space. But there was no fooling Nanny June.

There never has been.

And there is still a touch of Diva about Nanny June. After insisting on having her nails done by the staff a few days ago and choosing a bright turquoise - the next day she demanded this colour be taken off her because she looked like a clown.

Yasss Queen.