THE Admiral nurse who visited us recently asked me how long I thought I could go on caring for James at home.
It was a question I had asked myself daily in the preceding weeks, but the thought of giving an answer out loud made me feel sick.
I looked at James - pitiably thin, old and confused - and the words I wanted to say, needed to say, just wouldn’t come.
The nurse nodded understandingly.
“I always tell people that when the moment arrives, they will know,” she said gently.
…and for the moment we left it there, the unspeakable elephant in an ever-shrinking room.
But last week the predicted ‘moment’ came in a moment of unexpected clarity and I finally made the decision I have been putting off for months.
As long ago as last summer the hospital had described James as “on the brink of care” and I have been increasingly aware since before Christmas that it was a matter of “when” and not “if”.
But then, after a particularly difficult week, I realised in an exhausted low that I simply can’t go on…or perhaps I simply don’t want to go on - I am too tired to know the difference.
I can’t go on caring for James 24/7 on my own - but nor can I leave making a decision about his future to some panicked crisis point.
I tell myself James will have to go into residential care - and as I allow myself to think the unthinkable, I feel a sense of calm and relief.
The Admiral nurse was right.
I do recognise when the moment has come.
And it is now…
I have been dreading the moment you say these words. It just means things are beyond our control. Wishing you strength as you deal with all the emotions that will ensue. Life will definitely change but I hope you continue to take us along on your journey.
I'm so sorry, but certainly understand. It takes a village - one person simply can't provide 24/7 care for a person with dementia. With luck the transition will go smoothly for you both. Good luck, Georgina.