Mum has finally agreed to sell her house; release Dad’s half of the money so he can afford to pay for his Care Home (see Food Fights), and for Mum to move to a smaller property. The garden is way too big for her and she is worrying about it even though a neighbour has offered to help (see A Dementia Deal).
Of course we expect some rough patches along the way but right now she seems to be happy about it as long as the new place is clean! Goodness knows what she thinks we are planning to do. Both my sister and I are particular, you could say down right fussy, so we are very unlikely to dump her in a dirty flat!
Last Sunday we had a number of estate agents round to value the property. My sister was in attendance to answer questions just in case Mum came out with something odd, like “the people up stairs have loud parties every night”. This was one of her past delusions which we know isn’t true as she lives in a bungalow!
Despite all the plans and precautions she did mention something odd! These new delusions have a very different flavour and impact on her from the earlier ones. Right now she believes Dad is arriving in the night, sleeping with her and leaving early in the morning, taking with him the odd piece of chicken breast or egg.
She says she hears him talking to someone else who is also there. We have not been able to establish who this person is or to get Mum to see that Dad is incapable of making the 3 mile journey to her home every night. She is strangely quite happy about these ‘visits’ laughing and smiling about them and sighing dramatically about the lost chicken breast.
Well, on Sunday whilst my sister was showing the first agent around Mum insisted on telling them the story from the previous night.
“Dad is sleeping here again”, she announced. “And he was trying to pour liquid in my ear. I do need to put my drops in but I had done it before going to bed. There is no need for him to do it. He keeps coming to sleep here. I don’t know why.” The estate agent smiled indulgently and asked the size of the plot.
Mum went on, “I am not sure why he is here every night and I must ask him to stop pouring stuff in my ear. Oh, and you know he could kill me because I am asleep when he arrives.” At this the agent looked very distressed. My sister winked at him. Agreed with Mum and Mum went off smiling a little wistfully and muttering about her ears. The agent made a hasty retreat after that and failed to produce a report on Monday. Clearly not up for selling ‘the murder house’.
You may think we are being a bit complacent about this but the delusions are mild compared to the previous paranoia and aggression and Mum is now comparatively happy, not scared as she used to be 6 months ago. And of course we know Dad can barely get out of bed let alone make the journey there and back every night. Oh, and there are no ear drops!