guancheblade
Active Member
- Joined
- Apr 11, 2014
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That old guy will never forget it.
Is this a sick joke?
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That old guy will never forget it.
Ian Botham said openly he stopped visiting his dad in the care home because pops no longer knew who his son was.
My Dad suffered with dementia for five years before he died. My Mum heroically cared for him, with my help. as long as she possibly could, but eventually he too tragically had to go into residential care.
I visited him every alternate day to my Mum, throughout his eighteen month stay, each time I sat with him for an hour, despite the fact he had long since sadly lost the power of speech. I nodded, shook my head and laughed as I guessed appropriate, in response to his incoherent conversation. Many of the fellow sufferers in his care home didn’t get a single visit from one month to the next and they’d ask me if I’d seen their relatives.
Towards the end, he was regularly hospitalised and I’d visit him every dinner and tea time to feed him, because there just weren’t enough staff. I walked every step of his journey through that awful disease and when he died, I took great comfort in the fact that I know my Dad knew how much I loved him, I knew no son could have done more for a father and when I look back, I have not one jot of regret.
In all honesty, I can’t be sure if my Dad knew who I was, but the crux of the matter is, I certainly knew who he was.
As far as I’m concerned, Ian Botham and many like him, should hang their fucking heads in shame![]()
I know people like Ian Botham, who've abandoned relatives because 'it upsets them too much to see them with dementia.' I just don't get it. I couldn't live with myself if I'd left mum to rot. Your last sentence sums it up 100%.My Dad suffered with dementia for five years before he died. My Mum heroically cared for him, with my help. as long as she possibly could, but eventually he too tragically had to go into residential care.
I visited him every alternate day to my Mum, throughout his eighteen month stay, each time I sat with him for an hour, despite the fact he had long since sadly lost the power of speech. I nodded, shook my head and laughed as I guessed appropriate, in response to his incoherent conversation. Many of the fellow sufferers in his care home didn’t get a single visit from one month to the next and they’d ask me if I’d seen their relatives.
Towards the end, he was regularly hospitalised and I’d visit him every dinner and tea time to feed him, because there just weren’t enough staff. I walked every step of his journey through that awful disease and when he died, I took great comfort in the fact that I know my Dad knew how much I loved him, I knew no son could have done more for a father and when I look back, I have not one jot of regret.
In all honesty, I can’t be sure if my Dad knew who I was, but the crux of the matter is, I certainly knew who he was.
As far as I’m concerned, Ian Botham and many like him, should hang their fucking heads in shame![]()
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