Dementia Diary Day 27
 I’ll Kill Myself If You Don’t…

Dear Dementia Diary
 
A horrid person sought to blackmail me today saying that if I didn't help her then she would go to Dignitas and kill herself. Of course, you have to kill yourself when you got to Switzerland. You have to top yourself otherwise they’ll be done for Murder – probably Manslaughter.

I’m not being insensitive and cruel. The person is taking a gamble with me because I saw my Dad fight for his life to the end. I am now watching Mam fighting to save her mind from Vascular Dementia.

A Dementia Carer's Futile Dream of Italy

Image by Kasabubu

One of my university lecturers, who was also a personal tutor, once told me that over the years he had come across a number of people who threatened suicide and became skilled in discerning those who won’t and those who will.

It was the quiet ones who worried him most, those whose demeanour indicated a deep, deep inner turmoil that was real that they couldn’t articulate.

Don’t you dare compete with my mother’s dementia, Bitch

The person had emailed that place in Switzerland and copied me in on the correspondence and the response from the Alps was clearly filtered through a bank of paranoid solicitors. I admit to being emotional about such issues and I am fortunate that I have such a sensible colleague sat next to me.

My assistant always tells me to BREEEATHE before responding. I left it a few hours and then constructed a reply that I showed my friend. I sent a carbon copied to my friend and the other to the boss.

It has been demonstrated to me that I am no-one and therefore powerless. So, why make such a threat to me. There is also a duty of care to an employee involved here, therefore I was making a double statement.

I will not put up with your crap and I expect to be protected from such blackmail.

I almost answered,

My correct email response to the person will probably bring about a bit of an argument tomorrow. But my colleague told me I did the right thing. I like my colleague because even though we’re both powerless we will fight for each other.

My Woe Bag is full

I find most days tiring but this email left me exhausted and cold to my very core. And to my very Soul. I decided Sod It! picked up a load of information leaflets to put through letterboxes and headed out into the countryside.

It was the middle of the day and so most people would be out. It was also quiet, windy and raining and thankfully there was little chance of coming across people to talk to.

Thank Heaven for addictive rubbish television. Humans are not very high on my list of favourite things right now.

I consider myself blessed that patients suffering from most types of dementia find me a safe place to be. I consider myself unlucky that people take one look at me and feel free to share their woes with me. My Woe Bag is full. And will be full for quite a while yet.

The weather was beginning to really deteriorate by the time I got to Sewerage View. I needed to avoid one awkward pompous self-important little critter. I think he is a bigot - a Stone Deaf Orator - who thinks that he is far more intelligent than he is.

He is the type I would like to buy a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo, Never Let the Facts Get in the Way of a Good Opinion.

If I’m in a good mood or a particularly bad mood I like to flatten these idiot with simple questions.

Sewerage View?

In this little village there is a group of houses named Sewerage View.

Not really. Mam's best friend from childhood, Beryl named the place such because it overlooks a sewage works - even though that is hidden behind a long tall row of conifers.

I love this little joke that two elderly ladies used to share because someone pretentiously posh and pompous lived there. Not the sewerage works, Sewerage View.

Postscript: Escape to Italy

I had just about finished when the rain the rain became torrential. I felt like going home and straight to bed for the afternoon; however, I decided to go back to work just for the company of my friend.

Even in the worst of circumstances there is always something good to find if you look hard enough.

While everyone else faffed around moving fluff from here to there and back, we passed a pleasant hour looking at holiday apartments in Florence. The sense of wanting to be elsewhere is overwhelming.

My friend told me that she had eaten deluxe pesto from Lidl and I should try it, to give myself a treat in my solitude.

The shelf was empty. Obviously, it was very good pesto.

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