Shades of Eeore

Today is Eileen’s birthday. And she’s in a frightfully good mood for one just turned 97. Such is the excitement about the day we have just spent 15 minutes holding 3 identical knee length navy blue skirts up to a floral patterned blouse, while Eileen discusses the merits of each individual skirt. Having finally selected a navy, knee length skirt from amongst its triplets Eileen has popped in to her bathroom to beautify as we’re having the neighbours over for cake and champagne this afternoon.

What a tremendous difference a birthday makes. I was preparing for the worst as Eileen has been many shades of Eeore this week. Especially after as she discovered that her last remaining cousin in Switzerland has died and now she really is ‘all alone’, or as she puts it “All the people I liked have died and now I’m left with the rest.” (Thanks a lot! What am I chopped liver?)

Every morning since we heard the sad news (4 days running) I have been greeted at breakfast by the following conversation:

Me: Morning, how are you?

Eileen: Oh, (sigh) alright.

Me: Did you sleep ok?

Eileen: Yes, but I was a bit sad last night. You know my cousin died?

Me: Yes, I know.

Eileen: Took a cold, dead in 3 days from a fever. She was 85 you know?

Me: Yes, I know.

Eileen: Her daughter had just come back from holiday when she heard. She was 85 you know…

Me: I know.

Eileen: She was nearly blind. And now I really am alone.

Me: Ah-well, breakfast time, I’ll put the kettle on.

As the old girl is 97 today I am forgiving the repetition. But thank the Pope her mood has improved, it was all getting a little dire around here; especially when I brought her to task about having an excuse rubbishing every one of my (very good) suggestions. She responded with, “Well, if I don’t have my excuses I don’t have anything.” Pity party, table for two please.

I was seriously contemplating coshing her over the head to induce amnesia; it really would be much easier if she didn’t remember her lack of family.

I once had the opposite problem with Old (my first ever placement). Old had a memory like a goldfish and was proof that the deaf can do anything but hear. She also adored her son Austin, the apple of her stigmatic eye. One day whilst attempting to adjust her hearing aid we had the following exchange:

Me: I’m sorry that’s the best I can do; we’re waiting for Austin to make an appointment with the audiologist.

Old: Oh, so we’re waiting for Austin to make an appointment.

Me: Yes.

Old: Ah, yes he’s my brother.

Me: No, he’s not your brother; he’s your son.

Old: Oh, he’s not my brother…he’s my nephew.

Me: No, he’s your son.

Old: Yes, his mother was…

Me: No, you’re his mother.

Old: Whose mother?

Me: Austin’s mother…he’s your son.

Old: My what?

Me: Your son…your son, he’s your son.

Old: My what? Spell it?

Me: S-O-N, son, Austin is your son.

Old: My son, is he really? Who told you that?

Me: He did and you have many times.

Old: Really, how curious…

The conversation petered off after that as Old had to take a little lie down to ponder the fact that she was in fact a mother.

See so much easier living with memory loss; everyday you make new friends and discover you have children. One birthday conk on the noggin coming up… ‘Yes that’s right Eileen, you have two sons Samsung and Pervis and a lovely daughter called Magma, I hear she's quite hot...’