Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!
These are the lyrics of the beautiful song ‘Windmills Of Your Mind’, but right now the words express my life. Life has to go forward and of course mine does, but in a whorled or spiral motion. It has to be like that because of the very special person with whom I live.
Dementia is the most horrible disease. It steals away a person’s life very slowly and painfully. It’s like pulling a plaster off a hairy part of your anatomy very gradually so that each pulled hair is agonisingly extracted, and it hurts those who witness it almost as much as those who are suffering from it.
The memory is such a precious thing and when one gets old it is sometimes the last pleasure one has, remembering all the beautiful and funny things that have happened in a lifetime of events. But dementia steals that pleasure away. Things in the past become fuzzy and confused, while things that have happened recently are completely stolen away almost immediately.
Helping a person with dementia to live a pleasant life can be challenging, but a strict routine and an unchanging rhythm to the days help to stabilise that person and give them perspective. So on any given day in the week the same things need to happen, be it cleaning, shopping, laundry or whatever. The time we rise in the morning must be the same each day, and the time we retire to bed must not vary. Meal times must be set and bath time is always the same. Every little thing that is done during the day has its proper time, and it continues to happen in an unvaried pattern day after day, so eventually the days seem to spiral past … ‘never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel.’
Into this rather bland lifestyle there is a splash of brightness in the form of Toto, my little fat Staffy. She, too, is getting old and is suffering from arthritis and cancer, but she doesn’t know or care about this and she behaves like she always has – in a rather mad but endearing way. In Zambia they would say she was completely penga (crazy). She feels her mission in life is to make people happy and this she does with aplomb. Everyone who comes here gets the famous ‘Toto welcome,’ be it a workman or a friend. Big Staffy grin as she prances around them with her eyes alight with pleasure and her wagging tail a blur. Long tongue licking any bit of exposed leg or arm it can find, moth-eaten toys proffered with love, ears nibbled if the recipient bends down to pat her, and all done with such an air of exuberant ecstasy it fairly takes the breath away. Dog-lovers think she’s lovely – those who are not too keen on dogs really hate her! Mum and I love her of course – we think she’s the best!
Mum spends much of her time watching the birds and squirrels in our garden. It gives her hours of pleasure and when she is thus occupied I know she is safe and not trying to do something she can no longer manage. During this time I can creep away to do some writing. I was not blessed with an academic mind, instead God decided to give me an over active imagination so I channel this into my writing. It is a blessing for which I am really grateful. Some of which I write gets published, much does not, but the words keep coming and stories weave together in my head and then ricochet around in my mind until I’m compelled to sit down and type them out.
A man’s steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?
Proverbs 20: 24