A Little Chuffer

That’s what I am apparently. I’m a little chuffer. This came at the end of a difficult visit today. Mum had just finished lunch and perhaps it was post-prandial relaxation, but she kept her head bowed. It was the first time in our eight year dementia journey that Mum has seemingly not wanted to make eye contact with me. Another sign?

I told her about a recent weekend break in Pembrokeshire, to the place I’d taken her on her last holiday seven years ago. Of course she wouldn’t remember that but it’s hard when her response is a jumble of words, most of which appear made up and none of which make sense. Sense? Is there anything about dementia which makes sense?

As so often, music proved our saviour. Mum nodded along, head still bowed, fingers tapping. But when Ronnie Hilton told us he’d seen the mouse he spies every time I visit Mum, she shouted:

“WHERE?”

He’s there on the stairs, Mum, where he always is.

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Eventually, Mum lifted her head. She smiled, her eyes suggesting that, chuffer or not, I’m still there for her, somewhere.  We said goodbye with a kiss. Until next time. Mum, me and those mice with their clogs.

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One Response to A Little Chuffer

  1. Sue says:

    Went to a conference re arts and culture andvolder people yesterday. Our conversation on Monday was very much in my head as I signed up for the session in Dementia. Sure enough music proved key to unlocking the kind of closed in behaviour you descibe here. Its effects were shown in video footage snd were extraordinary. Apparently the lady in question’s daughter cried when she saw its effects on her Mum in embracing her neighbour and almost doing a little jig in her chair. She was always do introverted in her body language whenever she saw her so whatever if takes -if the Windmills of Old Amsterdam do it, jazz, folk, classical, rhythm and blues – if music be the food of life let her feast on it!

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