The Dementia Diaries:Tales from an unprepared carer

The first 24 hours after losing my mum were extremely difficult. I was dealing with my own grief and that of my daughter and father whilst beginning to face the fact that I was now a carer for my father. I arranged for dad’s friend to visit as he had asked, allowing me and my daughter to leave his house to walk, talk and process what had happened.

On returning home, a neighbour, who had heard the news, had come to offer her condolences. After they had left and I had gone into the kitchen to make yet another cup of tea, my dad left the house. Finding him gone, I panicked and was relieved to find him on a neighbours doorstep. I joined him to find him sharing our sad news. The neighbour offered their sympathies and we left. Having dad leave the house and go ‘wandering’ was one of my biggest fears. Where would he go? Would he be able to find his way home? Was he able to cross a road safely? I tried to persuade dad that the news would travel and he didn’t need to tell everyone.

What followed was extremely stressful. The next time I left the room, dad left the house again. I ran after him, asking where he was going. Dad was clearly irritated at my interference. He refused to tell me where he was going and told me to go away and leave him alone. My daughter attempted to talk to him and received the same response. Reluctantly, we had to let him go. I was grieving and panicking. I enlisted the help of dad’s neighbour who had visited earlier. She tracked him down to another house on the street. After sharing his news the neighbour persuaded him to come home and that was it for the day.

I barely slept that night. I was grieving the loss of my mum and feeling completely overwhelmed at the prospect of trying to look after my dad and keep him safe. The following morning dad started speaking about visiting more neighbours, one of whom he admitted he didn’t actually know, but thought he should tell. He also wanted to visit some friends across town. I realised that it was futile trying to persuade him not to go out. I contacted the friends and arranged for them to visit later that day to at least try to prevent him from walking across town. As with the previous day, dad waited until my back was turned and left the house, not even closing the door behind him. After a frantic morning, for me at least, dad finally returned home, satisfied that the neighbours all knew about mum.

Looking back, it was a rational thing for him to want to tell his neighbours, but in my grief, I felt completely overwhelmed and unable to keep him safe. I realised that this was not going to be an easy journey and was incredibly relieved when my brother said that he would be travelling back to stay with dad for a week while we made arrangements for the funeral.