Day 2,223 in the Nanny June Care Home

The One With The Promise Of Biscuits.

It took longer today to go through the checks to visit than it did to do the actual visit. Nanny June was miserable and said so. I asked if there was anything particular making her miserable? - No. All just miserable.

She didn’t know who I was but wanted physical contact. Tapped her fingers against the glass next to mine.

We had the most minimal of connections today.

She was bored by me. She was disinterested in who I was and what I had to say.

Apart when I brought news of biscuits arriving for her... A bag of delights is waiting for Nanny June as a Christmas gift. Quarantined via reception so she can have them on Christmas Day. Along with a note from my nine year old.

Merry Christmas Nanny June. I know you don’t remember us but we wish you a Merry Christmas! We are wishing you joy and love every day. Merry Christmas again. Would like to see you soon.

Children cannot visit the care home. They are too high a Covid risk. Although this week the staff and residents get vaccinated. I was called last week to give my consent (but I can’t - my Power of Attorney rights are financial and not for wellbeing but they wanted my opinion). I said yes. It’s a herd health thing. Nanny June went for a flu jan each year and I’m pretty sure she would have taken the Covid one. I read somewhere in all the doom scrolling late at night that as a society we have forgotten very quickly about the impact of vaccination to our lives. We still have in living memory people who can recall school friends or family members being sick or dying from diseases such as polio or diptheria. So older people go for vaccination more than younger people.

Here’s hoping the staff get to help pace Nanny June’s sugar intake on Christmas Day. Seeing as she’s survived a global pandemic it would be a shame for all that sugar to put her in hospital; After Eights, Shortbread, Turkish Delight, more biscuits. She will probably go on a massive biscuit bender and forget how much she’s eaten.

There were absolutely no memories of me today, of her adulthood or her childhood. In the film Inside Out the characters fight hard to protect the ‘core memories’, while the everyday less significant memories are stored away until they get thrown into the abyss. Getting bombed, was, unsurprisingly one of Nanny June’s core memories. Today that had been released into the abyss too.

Distressed at my endless pursuit of questioning what she might remember but didn’t, she asked “who are my family?” We scrolled through an arbitrary list of names she didn’t recognise and this just left her feeling even more unconnected to who she was. Making her more miserable.

“Well what do we do now?” She asked hopelessly. “Go an have a nice cup of tea” I said. “But I can’t come with you. I’m not allowed“. Her face said she wanted to be with me even though she didn’t know me.

Then we called it a day after 20 minutes and said our goodbyes. Tapped our fingers on the glass and I watched her shuffle off back into the corridors where all her memories go to die.

She is losing more weight I think.

But at least she has the biscuits.