Yes, I'm sad to say that MB has finally moved on to a better place.
R. I. P.
Relocation Implementation Plan.
That's the plan I devised because her needs could no longer be met by me in my home.
Huh...? R. I. P. ? You thought it meant what...? Oh, sorry, I didn't think of that... no, she's fit and healthy in body and... well in body at least.
I have relocated MB to this place...
Eden in Lynbrook. (click link)
It's a good place and I think it's much better for her
health and safety. MB had started to leave the gas on
on the stove, she was constantly confused and she would
venture out to the gate of the property when on her own,
and that worried me enormously as she would never
find her way back if she wandered off. And of course,
she would not be able to tell anyone where she
was supposed to be if she was found to be lost.
So as hard as it was, I made the decision to relocate
her into a care facility. R. I. P.
To get her to accept the move, I had to fib to her...
I told her that I was going away, which was usually
acceptable because I would always arrange
to have someone come in of an evening and
supervise/assist her in preparing her evening
meal... and then sit with her and be a companion
until 10:00pm, bed time.
But I had to add a little twist this time.
I told MB that I couldn't get anyone to be with
her every evening and so I had to find somewhere
for her to stay whilst I was away. After the initial
discussion and many empty promises that it was
just for a short while, she relaxed into the idea.
Reluctantly, but true to form, once it was obvious
that it was going to happen, she ceased all
resistance and concentrated on making sure all
her needs would be met.
Her needs, by the way, boiled down to food and
laxatives. If I could reassure her that those
two fundamentals of life could be guaranteed,
then she would be fine.
And she is.
She's been there just over a week and my sister
reports that she's settling in just fine. Unfortunately
we have to keep up the charade of me being away
so that enough time passes and it becomes normal
for her to be there. I will in fact be 'in town' briefly
this weekend, which will allow me to visit her
without blowing the cover.
The house is different now that she's gone... I get
to use the remote control, I can play my music when
and as loud as the mood takes me, I don't have to
argue over things that others take as given, I no
longer harbour suspicions that she's washed her
knickers in the kitchen sink, we don't argue over
undoing the seat belt in the car too soon, I am not
constantly wiping up after her, I no longer search
the house high and low for something that belongs
in one place and has just been moved to a randomly
selected new location, I don't have to check that the
cutlery hasn't been placed back in the drawer unwashed,
I don't have to constantly repeat every single instruction/
request/information that I give her, I don't have to place
the photos back on the wall that she took down for no
reason, I have my own room back, the bathroom is no
longer cluttered with things that MB insisted that she
needed but never used, the toilet brush now sits the
right way up, the house is no longer as hot as an oven
because she just couldn't get warm, I no longer hear
her banging into her bedroom wall as she walked in
a pitch black room to hop into bed because she
refused to turn on the bedside lamp, I no longer have
to work out what TV show she was convinced was
supposed to be on but wasn't because she was reading
the wrong page of the guide, I don't have to search her
dressing table drawers for the mail that she collected
from the mailbox and opened then decided that she
wouldn't be able to give it to me in that condition so would
hide it in her room, and I don't constantly worry about
how she's going... but what I do do now is feel bad about
putting her in care... and I miss her.
I love MB, and I've done the best I could possibly do
for her... I hope in her addled mind that she was happy
and felt safe and cared for... I hope I did enough for her.
Cheers MB.
R. I. P.
Relocation Implementation Plan.
That's the plan I devised because her needs could no longer be met by me in my home.
Huh...? R. I. P. ? You thought it meant what...? Oh, sorry, I didn't think of that... no, she's fit and healthy in body and... well in body at least.
I have relocated MB to this place...
Eden in Lynbrook. (click link)It's a good place and I think it's much better for her
health and safety. MB had started to leave the gas on
on the stove, she was constantly confused and she would
venture out to the gate of the property when on her own,
and that worried me enormously as she would never
find her way back if she wandered off. And of course,
she would not be able to tell anyone where she
was supposed to be if she was found to be lost.
So as hard as it was, I made the decision to relocate
her into a care facility. R. I. P.
To get her to accept the move, I had to fib to her...
I told her that I was going away, which was usually
acceptable because I would always arrange
to have someone come in of an evening and
supervise/assist her in preparing her evening
meal... and then sit with her and be a companion
until 10:00pm, bed time.
But I had to add a little twist this time.
I told MB that I couldn't get anyone to be with
her every evening and so I had to find somewhere
for her to stay whilst I was away. After the initial
discussion and many empty promises that it was
just for a short while, she relaxed into the idea.
Reluctantly, but true to form, once it was obvious
that it was going to happen, she ceased all
resistance and concentrated on making sure all
her needs would be met.
Her needs, by the way, boiled down to food and
laxatives. If I could reassure her that those
two fundamentals of life could be guaranteed,
then she would be fine.
And she is.
She's been there just over a week and my sister
reports that she's settling in just fine. Unfortunately
we have to keep up the charade of me being away
so that enough time passes and it becomes normal
for her to be there. I will in fact be 'in town' briefly
this weekend, which will allow me to visit her
without blowing the cover.
The house is different now that she's gone... I get
to use the remote control, I can play my music when
and as loud as the mood takes me, I don't have to
argue over things that others take as given, I no
longer harbour suspicions that she's washed her
knickers in the kitchen sink, we don't argue over
undoing the seat belt in the car too soon, I am not
constantly wiping up after her, I no longer search
the house high and low for something that belongs
in one place and has just been moved to a randomly
selected new location, I don't have to check that the
cutlery hasn't been placed back in the drawer unwashed,
I don't have to constantly repeat every single instruction/
request/information that I give her, I don't have to place
the photos back on the wall that she took down for no
reason, I have my own room back, the bathroom is no
longer cluttered with things that MB insisted that she
needed but never used, the toilet brush now sits the
right way up, the house is no longer as hot as an oven
because she just couldn't get warm, I no longer hear
her banging into her bedroom wall as she walked in
a pitch black room to hop into bed because she
refused to turn on the bedside lamp, I no longer have
to work out what TV show she was convinced was
supposed to be on but wasn't because she was reading
the wrong page of the guide, I don't have to search her
dressing table drawers for the mail that she collected
from the mailbox and opened then decided that she
wouldn't be able to give it to me in that condition so would
hide it in her room, and I don't constantly worry about
how she's going... but what I do do now is feel bad about
putting her in care... and I miss her.
I love MB, and I've done the best I could possibly do
for her... I hope in her addled mind that she was happy
and felt safe and cared for... I hope I did enough for her.
Cheers MB.
