Let me introduce you to big Al!
Updated: Feb 14
My Mum passed away in November 2019. She died ‘peacefully’ in a nursing home after a long illness which left her unable to speak, eat or drink. Her swallowing reflex was slowly obliterated. How frustrating and ultimately terrifying for her. I can hardly bear to think about it.
A cruel, debilitating, dehumanising completely heartless and unrelenting disorder called Alzheimer’s. Let’s call it Big Al for short.
(To make life simpler and without prejudice, I have chosen to refer to Big Al as a male, but feel free to change the gender accordingly)
Big Al does not only distress the person chosen to be the recipient of his attention, Big Al affects and effects everyone in his path. Big Al impacts, everyone who knows and loves the ill-fated person he has chosen to terrorise, everyone suffers in his or her own unique and often painfully heart-breaking way.
Here is a definition I found online
Alzheimer's disease is a progressive disorder that causes brain cells to waste away (degenerate) and die. Alzheimer's disease is the most common cause of dementia — a continuous decline in thinking, behavioural and social skills that disrupts a person's ability to function independently.
Quite clinical and straightforward wouldn’t you say? The reality is far for clinical and straightforward.
I sound angry because I am angry, I just don’t know who or what to be angry with. That said, because of big Al, I got to see a different side of my Mum, a side I had never seen or experienced before.
Before big Al really took Mum in his vice like embrace, I was surprised and delighted to hear so many memories pour forth from my Mum, she would prefer to be on her feet as she told me story after story about her childhood and life as a young adult, often acting out a scenario with humour and skill to rival the best actors on any stage.
She was always delighted to see me when I visited, demonstrably so. As time passed, she became dependant on me for so many things I could never have imagined. Mum had always been strong and independent. I told her for the first time in my life that I loved her. And she told me that she loved me too. Would that have happened without big Al? who knows.Saying I love you is not said much between parents and children in my part of the world. Mostly, there is no need. You just know it.
I missed my Mum more and more as big Al took charge. She was physically right there in front of me, I could hug her, she would take my hand and kiss it, but her very essence was disappearing, dissolving in front of me, all the parts which made up my Mum were still there, but were out of order and sequence swirling around in front of my eyes.
Just as I felt really close to Mum, felt that I truly understood what made her tick, the ticking stopped. Silence is not always golden; it can be gut wrenching and tear your heart out.
So, big Al, you did your worst, Mum was not the first and alas she will not be the last, you have much work to do don’t you? I truly hope and pray that society takes you very seriously big man, that we will pull together, collect money and find a way to beat you. We are getting there with your Cousin, Big C.
Writing my book, King Street to King’s Road was something I had always wanted to do, but never more so than when big Al got Mum in his clutches and squeezed the very being out of her. My memories are out there, in black and white for all to see, but most importantly for my daughters, and who knows, maybe any grandchildren I may be blessed with.
Maybe, if Big Al seduces me in the future, my carers will see my book, flick through it and see that I had a meaningful life, and a family to be proud of.
Mum was fortunate to be looked after by an amazing team of people who work in Dundonald Nursing Home. Without exception, they cared for Mum way beyond the constraints of a job description, way beyond what was required to take care of her basic needs. They seemed to love her, wanted to make her blossom in what we all knew was the final chapter of her life, from the maintenance guys, office staff, the coffee shop and kitchen staff, hairdresser and of course the excellent nursing and occupational therapy teams. They all knew her by name. They all knew my Dad by name. Dundonald House staff became like a second family, and for that I will be eternally grateful.