20th April 2006 - Have you heard the news?

"Have you heard the news?" my Dad met me with today. "No, what news" I say rather warily, a vague resigned dread creeping over me. In the past week we've had the reintroduction of old money in selected Ayrshire villages "I ask you how's that going to work, it's just daft", the face of Jesus turning up in the grain of the door to his room "I'm not a catholic, wonder why he's appearing to me?" and him trying to use the handrail that runs all round the corridors in the home as a cash dispenser "I can't get any damn cash out of this thing - can you help? No, of course you can't, you've never been much practical use - neither use nor ornament as your Mum used to say". It's not that he has these flights of fancy that bothers me, it's not even the bafflement they cause in me when I try desperately to make some sense from them, to piece together recent events or current surroundings to come up with some thread, some track that I can follow to make sense of the fragments. It's the fact that they nearly always end up with him telling me I'm no help. It's like waiting for the catchphrase in a sitcom. When is he going to tell me I'm useless.

"Well Moira's dead" he says. Moira is my sister. "It's not as bad for you, you've still got Colin, but there's only ever been Moira for me". Colin is my brother. It's then I realise he currently thinks I'm my Mum and that's he just confirmed what I always knew - Mum favoured Colin, and Dad Moira. Interesting little insight there.

I convince him Moira's not dead, he's calm again. I want to hold his hand, but I can't. How horrible must it have been for him to think his first born was dead, he must have been grieving, must have been feeling. I look at him as he flickers in and out of sleep, dimming and briefl brightening. What does he feel, does the dementia change his feelings as well as his thoughts? I suppose it must - what is a feeling if not a thought? I hope the dementia numbs his feelings, takes away his pain, his loneliness.