In November 2019 my father was on his deathbed.  One day he turned to me, and said, I don’t know what you’re going to do about your Mum.  I knew what he meant, and I told him that he didn’t need to worry about that, and that I would make sure she was ok.  What he meant was, how would I cope with the dementia, that whilst it hadn’t been diagnosed, we suspected was there.  

Following my Dad’s passing in December 2019, my Mum became very defensive at any discussion regarding her possibly having dementia.  Then Covid came, and we all went into lockdown.  It was horrendous.  My Mum lived in a different town, and would turn switch her phone off, and I would have no way of knowing if she was ok.  

In September 2020, the camera’s on my Mum’s house caught her going wandering on a Sunday night at 10pm.  Where was she going? What was she doing? A taxi turned up about 30 mins later and dropped her off.  I called the taxi company, and was fortunate enough to talk to the taxi driver who had dropped her off.  I will never forget his final words to me ‘Good Luck’.

So with heavy heart, I had to book my Mum into the Doctors under the pretence of having an Over 75’s check.  When we got there, I had to explain what had been going on.  Boy was she cross with me, when we left!

Shortly afterwards, my Mum was diagnosed with Mixed Dementia, that being a mix of Alzheimer’s and Vascular Dementia.  My Mum refused to take medication - she didn’t believe there was anything wrong with her.

That winter we went into another lockdown, and my Mum was so lonely.  It was heartbreaking. I suggested that she move into a Residential Home.  I never expected her to agree, but she did.  I have never felt so guilt ridden as I did during that period.  I would lie awake at night, tossing and turning.  What would my Dad think?  What would my Mum’s family say? What would she want if she could truly tell me? These questions haunted me.  But the situation wasn’t going to get any better.  She was already ringing in the middle of the night, thinking it was daytime.

The deterioration was so quick.  Fast forward a year (December 2021), and we moved her from the Residential Home to a Nursing Home.  The Nursing Home she moved to was exceptional, but she still continued to deteriorate.

Dementia is a bloody cruel disease.  We would visit. She wouldn’t know who any of us were, but would remember all the words to ‘Bring me sunshine’.  As long as she was happy, that was the main thing - or at least, that was what I told myself.  It was so incredibly difficult on all of us as her family.  Like many diseases, the disease doesn’t just impact the person who is affected, it has that ripple effect, that means everyone close to that person is impacted.

In March 2023, my Mum passed away, a shadow of her former self.  Still gorgeous, still very much loved, and now incredibly missed.

So I have cried, and I have sobbed, but none of that will bring my beautiful Mum back.  But I can do something that will help other families not have to go through this misery.

As some of you will know, I run as part of a little running crew. We train in all weathers, and that’s about to continue!  One of my closest friends who has supported me throughout these last few years and I are going to do the following: 

In September 2023, we are running the Great North Run.  The Great North Run is very appropriate, as my Mum and Dad lived in the North East, and absolutely loved it up there.  Then in April 2024 we will be running the Manchester Marathon, which is where my Mum is from, followed by the London Marathon the following week.  All of this will be for Alzheimer’s Research UK, and for me, it will be in memory of my Mum.

If you have got this far - thank you!  And if you would like to donate, please give as much as you can spare.  We have to get rid of this hideously cruel disease.