Heroes and heroines

Heroes and heroines come in many shapes and sizes. For some people  they are firefighters, emergency doctors and de-miners. For others, astronauts, pilots and explorers.  For me it has to be the people who care for and tend to the elderly, especially those with dementia. It takes a special type of person to do this. As much as I try, I’m not that type of person. The weeks I spent with mum (24-7) before the arrival of my brother and cousin over the recent Xmas holiday dispelled any illusions I might have had about that. Part-time caring I can do. Full time is another thing entirely.

I first started evaluating carers when, after having fallen out of the loft and breaking my leg and ankle in many places, I was trapped for 3 months (instead of the planned two days) at my mum’s house in Bothwell because I could not fly anywhere until my plaster came off- luckily I was freelance at the time and could work from wherever I happened to be. Then, mum had one carer in every morning to monitor her pill intake, to wash her, and to make sure breakfast had been eaten. The quality of carers varied considerably. Some came in, asked if she had done this that and the next thing, to which she replied in the affirmative – invariably lying – and then went away again. There was no checking of pills beyond prompting. Her shower, she had to get three times a week. Again some carers accepted her statement of having had a wash earlier as fact, until I hobbled through on crutches and pointed out she was making it up. She hated showers and would avoid them like the plague. With some carers she just refused to have one. Others, though, through manner and attitude, managed to get her undressed, into the shower, washed, dried and dressed before she had really noticed. Quite a remarkable feat!   With breakfast, again they asked and again she said, ‘yes I’ve had it” which she had because I had made it in a rather wobbly manner. There was no evidence from the fridge prior to my arrival that there was anything like breakfast food in the house though. Some cared; some couldn’t give a shit.

I got the number of carers coming in increased during my stay as it became quickly obvious just how badly she could actually cope during my lengthy enforced stay in her house. She also fell over and broke her arm when out walking and therefore needed more help.  I was of limited use to anyone on crutches. When I left Bothwell she was up to 4 carers a day and had had regular food for three months. Unfortunately not much more than a year later she was found unconscious in the lounge by the psychiatric nurse who just happened to be visiting and was hospitalized.  She has not lived independently since.

Thankfully since coming to Sri Lanka, mum has had two gems of carers. Without them, I could not go to work or function in any way normally. The first, Shamalee, is wonderful. She has an extremely calm, placid, happy nature which works well with mum. She can cope with anything which is just as well as she has had to deal with some shitty situations. She went off to have her second baby early September. She worked on the Friday, was admitted to hospital on the Saturday morning and had the baby within an hour. She doesn’t waste time. The baby is now about 4 months old. Mum loves the baby but that is another blog.

Ajantha came to cover for Shamalee when was on maternity leave.  I first got to know Ajantha when I was working in the Emirates. She worked as a nanny for one of my friend's. She was there during my seven years in Al Ain and Sharjah. Now she is back at home in Sri Lanka. She is the mother of my caretaker down south - the man who looks after my house and dogs. Again she has a very calm, placid, cheerful personality and can cope with pretty much anything. As well as covering for Shamalee in Colombo, Ajantha mum-sits down south when I need to go out.  Both are 100% reliable and trustworthy. Equally important though, they can manage mum.

Both now play a mean game of rummy, know Sound of Music off by heart, are a dab hand at cheese sandwiches and lentil soup, are jigsaw experts and can hum along to Andre Rieu’s Vienesse waltzes. They understand the importance of ‘the bag’ and the necessity to know where it is at all time.  They know that the table in the lounge must always be aligned with the lines on the floor. They can cope with mum’s negativity and leave her to it till she snaps out of it.

Both of them make my life possible.