It was 9pm by the time Sarah arrived home. Knowing how much Jack worried about her being out alone, she’d sent a quick text earlier to tell him where she was and that everything was okay. As she closed the door, she shouted his name.
‘Hello, love, shall I put the kettle on?’ Jack greeted his wife with concern.
‘Not for me thanks, I’ve had enough tea to last me for a week.’ Sarah hugged her husband and flopped, exhausted, beside him onto the sofa.
‘How’s Alice?’ Jack asked.
‘Shocked and washed out. The poor woman was certain that her husband was still alive, but now she’s home, the evidence is plain to see. I must admit Alice was quite convincing at The Elms. I almost believed her myself. She was so certain of her own mind.’
‘Yes, I remember. So, your detective work was all in vain?’ Jack grinned, earning a playful punch in the ribs from his wife. ‘Tell me, what’s convinced her otherwise?’
‘When I arrived, Alice had just found the order of service for her husband’s funeral…’
‘Goodness, what a cruel way to find out. The poor woman must have been shocked.’
‘Yes, but she wasn’t finding out for the first time, was she? That’s the trouble with dementia. Sometimes patients have to go through the same distressing trauma over and over again. She’d also expected to find a photograph of her ‘granddaughter’, but sadly that seems to be another figment of her imagination.’ Sarah snuggled closer into her husband’s side, needing the comfort of his presence.
‘Poor Alice feels so stupid now. It’s almost sad she’s lucid enough to know the mistakes she’s making; patients who are so far gone they’re not aware of anything generally tend to be happier, or at least more content.’
‘Do you think she’ll have to go back to The Elms?’
‘No, she’s still functioning reasonably well, so the assessment decision will stand, but if things get worse, the situation might change and she’ll need monitoring, initially at least.’
‘It just goes to show that none of us actually know what’s waiting around the corner for us, do we?’
‘Aw, Jack, don’t get all maudlin on me. I need cheering up.’ Sarah thumped him playfully on the arm.
‘The poor woman must have thought that everyone was conspiring against her. What a terrible thing, not to feel you can trust your own family.’
‘Conspiracy theories are common with dementia and it’s why they have an open-door policy at work. The doors are only closed when a carer’s delivering personal care and even then two staff members have to be in attendance. Accusations of staff stealing money and possessions are the norm, I’m afraid, but generally, the family bears the brunt of it. Residents tell anyone who’ll listen that their families have locked them away and sold their homes for the money. I’ve heard so many variations on this theme already; it must be hard for the families who only want the best for them.’
‘Sarah, you must promise me that when I get to that stage, you’ll whisk me off to Switzerland, to one of those places where you can choose to slip away in peace.’
‘Jack! Not everyone gets dementia, you know, and there’s no way I’d do that for anyone, especially you. Now, I’m ready for bed. It’s been a long day.’
‘Sounds like a good idea to me!’ Jack grinned and took his wife’s hand, entwining his fingers with her own as he led her upstairs.
