Day 3,933 in the Nanny June Care Home

The One with Increasing Number of Grey Hairs.

I love this poem. I thought I’d share it because it echoed this week’s visit quite well.

When I visited this week Nanny June didn’t make for the walker and try to escape but instead sat next to me the whole time I was there. Due mainly in part to her being asleep for most of it.

Typically, Jack the puppy wants to say hello to absolutely everyone except Nanny June. Although he was very interested in licking the floor under her chair (dogs can be grim). But the visit can be deemed an overall moderate success.

A definite highlight for me was a nursing manager checking with staff that I was her daughter and not her granddaughter. Which is a miracle because I am pretty sure Nanny June significantly contributes to my grey hairs. Anyway, today was ‘Care Plan Review’ meeting day (which also means more grey hairs). Every 3-4 months the care home and I go through Nanny June’s temperament, medication, sleeping patterns, physical health, mental health, diet, well-being, interventions, toilet habits (I know, it’s thrilling) but care plans mean that we care and someone is being held to account.

Nanny June is on a one way journey and to pretend otherwise won’t do any of us any favours. The care manager gave me a hug at the end of the meeting and said she nearly cried. It’s emotional to watch this all play out in front of us. The care manager feels bad for me, I feel bad for Nanny June. Nanny June doesn’t feel bad for anyone.

A lot of my serious life admin can be attributed to Nanny June. There are not only care plans but DOL’s assessments, bank statements, powers of attorney responsibilities, social services, doctors… on and on and on it goes, when it stops nobody knows. And this becomes a familiar world for a lot of people. It’s place that is often unspoken of. Just navigating this place, with its rules and acronyms, legalities and detail uses a lot of emotional energy. Then once you know the rules and acronyms, legalities and detail it becomes normal. Otherwise it would break you. If you have cared for someone you love, or are caring now for someone you love them I see you. You are not invisible. Normalising it doesn’t mean it is okay. It’s not normal. But you will be okay.

I no longer underestimate the rage that comes with these situations. There’s an anger that the person who should navigate me through these sort of situations is the person at the centre of it all. And they can’t help. Help isn’t coming.

I want my mum back. Even the ‘talking in circles and not getting anywhere conversationally’ mum. I want the previous incarnation of her dementia, not this one. Which is the constant

inevitability of how this goes.

I know that one day I will wish for the day she just slept in her chair.

Poem & Photo Credit: Juliana Gray @JGray_writer as published in Willow Springs Magazine 2022.