Memory, Molly and Mum

When mum first came to stay, her short term memory was such that I was beginning to think that she would never remember that we had three dogs, that they lived in the house down south, that they had names, and that they had characters. She spent about six months calling them by their colour and forgetting about them completely, though she always loved having them around.  I was also not familiar with what Alzheimer’s patients can and can’t do. I imagined that if you had a terrible short term memory then you wouldn’t be able to remember much in the recent past: that would seem logical. This seems to hold true for some things but not for others. I’m sure she doesn’t know from one day to the next whether she has had breakfast, lunch or dinner. She certainly doesn’t remember if she has just had a cup of tea. She frequently forgets where rooms are. New names and faces are very confusing for her; and sometimes old ones can be as well. She has been known to tell me about what Lesley is doing just now. There is no point trying to teach her to do something new e.g. work the TV or DVD or make a cup of tea (mind you I have issues with all the remotes too). And definitely don’t try and teach her a new game of cards. Doesn’t work.

However some things she does remember. For example, she carries her wash-bag around everywhere, she constantly worries that it is safe, and it must either be in a safe place when we go out or it has to come too. She keeps all her letters, her Sri Lankan coins which she thinks are worth heaps of money (in reality about 50 rupees) and her comb in it. She must know where it is. When she inadvertently left it in the toilet in the Fortress I went into complete melt down and had the hotel staff checking everywhere till it was finally found.

The dogs though especially her relationship with Molly recently has demonstrated that her short term memory does work for some things: notably this little dog who is really on her last legs.  When I come in from work in Colombo these days, I get questions such as “And how were the dogs?” “What happened with Molly at the vet? “ “How is Molly?” She obviously thinks I have been away visiting the dogs – if only! There could be various reasons for this confusion.  We spent most of August with the dogs. Now we see them only at weekends. So she obviously thinks they are around; she just doesn’t know where. And as she is not really aware that she spends half her time in an apartment in Colombo and the rest of the time in a house in Unawatuna, it makes sense on one level to assume that I must be away visiting the dogs.

She has definitely picked up on the fact that Molly is special. She would say her favourite dog is Sandy who constantly sits with her and follows her everywhere; but Molly and mum have formed a special bond. They are both up there in terms of years. Mum just turned 85 and Molly 14 (98 in people years).  Having spent every morning over a month with Molly, mum knows that Molly has issues and has a special place in the household. At breakfast time, Chaminda cooks Molly chicken and bacon, mixes this with rice and then adds a boiled egg.  The other two dogs get nothing in the morning. I hasten to add that this is not because they never get fed; it’s just that Molly is underweight and her kidneys are failing and the vet says she has to increase her weight in order to maintain stability. Therefore Molly gets her syrup first which is shot down her throat with a plastic syringe; 50% of the time this fails miserably and the syrup goes everywhere. The theory is that this will settle her stomach and give her an appetite. I’m not convinced that this works. Then typically me and mum watch her and the other dogs closely to ensure that Molly and not Sandy and Crazy demolish the contents of the dog bowl.  They watch Molly hovering around the bowl but not eating. Eventually she will pick at it and even later she will actually more or less finish it. It is a major event getting Molly to eat. And it is repeated every morning we are down south.

Mum also has noticed that Molly goes to the vet a lot. Either I take her, which involves me doing a 4 hour drive up and down to Colombo, or Molly comes up during the week in a van driven by Nihal and accompanied by Chaminda (or in the last visit by Chaminda’s dad as Chaminda was away visiting his mother in law at hospital). This is not because there are no vets down south. There are. But I prefer trusting Pet Vet in Colombo who can do all the necessary tests on her there and then and can explain the various options to me in terms I understand. Their treatment has also been right so far. In December they said she might not last the month but the saline she gets and the constant monitoring is keeping her going. We have to phone up for the test results. Mum is interested in the test results. I don’t think she understands what they mean beyond if they are good or not. She certainly does not understand that Molly has failing kidneys and that the saline she gets in different amounts and frequencies according to how her last tests are, will keep her stable for a while but this is not going to last forever. The whole saline drama mum has also watched a lot recently. Chaminda and me sitting with Molly while her saline goes into her drip by drip - it takes a while. Now, mum says when the test results come back normal, “Oh that’s good - the little dog will feel better.”

Molly has developed a special relationship with my mum towards bed time. When we sit playing cards before mum goes to bed, Molly wanders into her bedroom to see if she is there then looks over at us as if to say “Isn’t it time you were in your bed? I want to go to mine! Hurry up!” When mum does make the move to the bedroom, Molly is there immediately. She gets on her bed and is most annoyed if I try to get her off so I can sort the sheets on the bed. And she’s there all night at the bottom of the bed. They both sleep a lot. She’s still there in the morning and she stays there till mum is up, showered and dressed and only then will she stir from the bottom of the bed and stand in front of mum while she tries to get past her on route to the porch to have breakfast.

Mum definitely worries about Molly. That tells me her short term memory still functions in some areas. And I reckon Molly worries about mum. Conclusion : empathy overrides short term memory loss.

red vented bulbul

Unawatuna in Sri Lanka is a far cry from Bothwell in Scotland. And the bird life is no exception. My mum spends a lot of time sitting on the porch here in the mornings and early evenings. I used to feel guilty that she had nothing to do and was always trying to get her to read magazines (which she can’t really do) or do jigsaws (if Himashi is around she enjoys this) or  write letters/ cards to friends (which again she can’t really do – she can sign something if I write it). I’ve let the guilt go now because actually there is a world to watch from the porch. The monkeys are always around somewhere. The birds as well provide a wealth of entertainment, action, colour and noise. I have no clue why people refer to the peace and quiet of the countryside. It’s anything but quiet. The visitors make a racket.

In Bothwell there were not so many varieties of birds. I remember magpies where we used to live. Counted them according to the old saying, “1 for sorrow, 2 for joy, 3 for a girl and 4 for a boy.” Was most upset when I only saw one.  Also blackbirds, sparrows, seagulls and pigeons occasionally and robins in the winter.  Here though you are raised to a totally different level of ‘birdlife’. 

The most common birds in my garden are the red vented bulbuls. I have a whole family of them – in fact probably generations of them. They nest in the kitchen in my fish mobile. So far they have produced 4 sets of chicks there. You know they are about to produce eggs when while washing the dishes you come face to face with one of them sitting on the bars of the kitchen window with bits of twig in its mouth. It looks at you most indignantly - you are blocking the route from window to nest. After a while they finish the renovation of the nest. Then the eggs will appear and the mother will spend lots of time sitting on them. You feel you are disturbing her. Then all hell breaks loose when the eggs hatch and there are squeaks from the nest and various bulbuls come flying in and out of the window all day feeding the open mouths.

There was a bit of a drama during my mum’s early stay here. The eggs had just hatched and the mother bird flew straight into the fan (very rarely do they go anywhere apart from the kitchen which does not have a fan) which killed her. This left me (and Chaminda of course) with the situation of small chicks needing to be fed. Chaminda ended up standing on the kitchen sink trying to dribble bits of papaya into the mouths of the chicks with varying degrees of success. Luckily for us, the father (I imagine) and one of the teenagers (again the imagination is being used here) took it upon themselves to take over the feeding of the chicks. So after a slow start the chicks were fine and are now flying around the garden.

Then we have the babblers which are a source of great amusement for my mum. They invade the garden and then disappear as quickly as they arrive. First a couple like scouts will be seen checking the place out then the rest of the flock will appear shreaking and bouncing up and down. They bound over the grass in large hops, chase each other through the bushes, leap on top of each other with great abandon, and generally look like a bunch of youngsters having the greatest of times. The dogs make themselves scarce when they appear.

Then there is the kingfisher (or in mum speak the ‘blue bird’ because of the flash of blue as it flies across the garden). It usually is seen perched on the gate looking in the direction of the pond. This usually is around the time we have stocked up the pond with fresh fish. It will swoop down and scoop up the small fish. I am fighting a losing battle here. The only fish to survive for any length of time in my pond is a rather substantial gold and black one.   The other ones become kingfisher food given time.

Other regulars include the pair of spotted doves who are building a nest in the rafters of the porch. They come and have a drink at the pond producing the rather incongruous sight of a real dove sitting beside a stone dove (present from a grateful visitor). They are always around.  The mynas are also frequent visitors at the bird table. (They are also unfortunately frequent victims of the southern expressway!) There are also lots of sunbirds who don’t come so close, but feast on a variety of colourful flowers like the pink ginger.

Then there are the more infrequent visitors. There are the parrots who do come from time to time to the bird table. Bright green and quite aggressive.  And the   Asian Koel who can be seen feeding itself at the bird table. The coucal can be seen wandering around the garden like an old man out for a stroll. The brown headed barbets are also frequent visitors and the red backed woodpecker pops in now and again. Sea eagles also hover overhead.

We await the arrival of the paradise flycatchers who arrive in the trees in November and leave at the beginning of the year. These birds are amazing to watch with their long tails that look like paper streamers weaving their way between the branches of trees. There are the Indian ones which have white tails and the Ceylon ones which have more chestnut coloured tails. Both appear in November and stay for the season like faithful tourists.  

You need do nothing to enjoy these visitors. Just sit on the porch. My mum doesn’t know their names  (neither do I if truth be told – but I can look up a bird book) but she does know their habits and can enjoy their colourful garden antics.