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Š Neil Baird, December 2013

My mum is 86 years old.

She lives permanently in a residential home as she needs full time care. Following knee surgery she can now no longer walk.

The surgery to replace her arthritic knee was to enable her to remain living independently in her own sheltered apartment.

Life was a struggle on her own, but she was adament that she would not go into care.

After the surgery mum made no progress in her rehabilitation, despite the efforts of the physiotherapists who came each day to try and work with her to get her walking.

She did not seem to understand that to be able to walk she must exercise and learn to walk again. She seemed to have no memory of people trying to help her. She seemed to be waiting. She is still waiting.

Rita has mild to moderate dementia, probably exacerbated by the trauma of surgery. She has Multiple Sclerosis and some arthritis in her back and legs.

She is lifted from, and back to bed each day. She is lifted to the comode. Most of her day is spent in her wheelchair.

Rita loses concentration very easily and gets quickly confused. She sometimes can’t finish sentences as she can’t remember the point, or the point vanishes before she gets to it.

Sometimes she is as bright as a button.

I spent a week with Rita in the days preceding the wedding of her grand-daughter. This project was undertaken in that week. I wanted to show the personal day-to-day reality of my mum as she has tried to come to terms with the new situation in which she has found herself, and the dignity she has managed to maintain throughout.

Before she came to the home, Rita was obsessive about keeping her little flat clean and tidy.

When she could no longer do much cleaning herself she reluctently accepted a cleaner coming in twice a week.

Their standards were never good enough.

In the home her sphere of influence has shrunk drastically.

Just look at this mess. I’m in such a muddle!

After dad died a few years ago mum lived on her own despite her health problems and her worsening mobility. I called her on the phone frequently.

‘How are you mum?’

Oh I’m struggling Neil.

Now she has friends. She has company. She has help.

She has stopped struggling.

But she wants to go home.

Mum has lost her interest in reading, she can’t make her TV work, and she is dependent on others for everything. Always a strongly independent woman, Rita has found this dependence very hard to accept.

As soon as I am better I will go back home to my flat.

Rita’s flat was let to another resident three months ago, and all of her furniture sold. We don’t know if she knows that she will never go back to it.

Sometimes she talks of it as though she is there.

I know exactly where that photograph is. It’s in the grey filing cabinet. Shall I get it?

Mary recently moved to the dementia wing of the home where the residents receive specialist care and have additional security to keep them safe.

Mum and Mary meet upstairs on Wednesdays when they both have their hair cut and styled.

Mary cried when she saw Rita.

Mum didn’t recognise her friend. Later she said she knew who she was.

She doesn’t know what’s going on, poor soul.

After ‘elevenses’ the menu for the next day is chosen.

Mum has to hear in detail each option before she can be helped to make a choice.

‘Would you like ice cream Rita?’

What else is there?

‘Bakewell tart, or fruit salad…’

Oh no, I’ll have ice cream please.

She always chooses ice cream.

Mum’s diary is very important to her. She no longer writes in it herself.

She is still able to sign her name. Anything more is too confusing to write. She quickly forgets what she is doing.

Etta, an old friend visited while I was there.

You’d better let me know when you’re coming again Etta, because I’m developing quite a social life now and I may not be here.

I wrote Etta’s visit in the diary.

Every other Thursday is exercise class.

Wednesday is hairdresser day.

Most days are all the same.

Going out anywhere is an ordeal for Rita and hard work for whoever gets her ready and takes her.

She rarely goes out.

She doesn’t remember what she did yesterday.

On the morning of her grand-daughter’s wedding Rita said she didn’t want to go.

She was nervous. She didn’t want all the attention. She didn’t want to be a burden.

I’m so sorry I got like this.

I explained to her again when we would leave and what would happen when we got there. We agreed that she could come home after the service or go on to the reception if she was feeling ok.

Mum was confused about whose wedding she was going to, sometimes thinking it was my sister Meryl’s. She started calling it The Family Wedding.

She always recognises Meryl and I, but often gets confused about other people, even those she has known a long time. She seems to try and hide this most of the time if she can.

Am I really knocked off Neil?

‘You have your moments mum, but most of the time you’re ok.’

You’re an idiot Neil.

I asked her if she was ready to go.

‘The nurse told us that it isn’t good for you to be sitting in the same position all day – she said you should go home for some time lying down’ Well the nurse isn’t the one who has to be in the wheelchair is she! I’m staying!

So we stayed. It was the best time mum had had for a very long time.

I slept like a log!

‘Your true home is in the here and the now.’ Thich Nhat Hanh