Coronavirus and being isolated from a loved one

Last month I wrote about the coronavirus pandemic and answered two questions families supporting a loved one are grappling with: How do we hand-wash more and how do we self-isolate?

For families who aren’t in the same household, however, they are living through many weeks, which may potentially become months, without physically seeing their loved ones. If a family member is in a care home that isolation period may be the longest any of us experience, since care homes are - as we have seen - incredibly vulnerable to coronavirus outbreaks. 

Indeed, the impact of coronavirus on care homes and the devastation being wreaked in terms of illness and death amongst residents (as well as the huge risks many staff are taking if they don’t have adequate personal protective equipment) is on a scale that even on the current estimations is truly horrific.

Fears for a loved one in a care home

For numerous families, reading these stories will only magnify their own immense fears for the health of their loved ones in care homes, and many will feel utterly powerless and dreading every ring on their phone. Although we never lived through anything like this with my dad, there is no doubt that I know the fear of illness well, since dad was hospitalised numerous times in the last nine years of his life. 

For us, the dreaded phone calls would often come in the middle of the night and would usually be because dad had a worsening chest or bladder infection. Time after time dad pulled through until the last, catastrophic bout of pneumonia that eventually overwhelmed him.

With care homes currently in strict lockdowns, the ban on visiting has both emotional and practical ramifications. The longest I ever went without seeing my dad during his nine years in care homes would have been around three weeks when one of his care homes had a norovirus outbreak, and it was characterised by constant worry.

The pain of separation 

Fast forward to 2020, and most families are faced with being apart for far longer. The pain this separation will be causing many people was something I thought about whilst reflecting on my dad’s 93rd birthday earlier this month. We were lucky to be able to spend every birthday with my dad, but so many people will be unable to do that during this pandemic. 

The stark feeling facing many families will be the anxiety that it could be their loved one’s last birthday and they won’t have those memories of being together. Whilst this may sound trivial to some in the face of the threat of coronavirus, the loss of the celebration of these milestones together only enforces the painful separation. And of course if a loved one is approaching the end of their life and you aren’t able to see them, the effect on grieving families is immense. We can buy many things and do a huge amount as 21st century citizens, but we cannot buy time, nor replace the physical touch of hand in hand or cheek on cheek.

Ways to keep in touch with your loved one when you are apart

Much has been said about the power of the digital world to bridge the yawning chasm many families are feeling, and it is undoubtedly the best option for at least seeing each other’s faces and hearing each other’s voices through mediums like Skype, FaceTime and Zoom.

More traditional options like sending letters, cards and photographs might seem less appealing, but for the older generation and particularly if someone’s dementia is advancing, these might be more understandable and recognisable than digital options. 

Bear in mind too that as someone’s dementia progresses, a phone call may be incredibly difficult for them to contribute to as it contains none of the visual clues, like mouth movements and body language, that can help the person to understand what you are staying. And of course they cannot see you, so simply saying who you are may not be enough of a reminder.

Practical things you can do for your loved one

If you are wanting to do something more for your loved one than just keeping in touch, these would be my top three suggestions:

• Make a life story resource. It may be that one of your lockdown projects is to sort through old photographs or memorabilia at home, or do some family tree research. Commit to creating a life story resource from items you may have at home, or things you can find online about your loved one’s life. You could turn these items (using copies of any precious originals) into a life story book, box, collage for a wall or other resource. You could be more creative too, as this care worker was when she had a cushion created for a gentleman who was missing his late wife. And don’t wait until you see your loved one to give them your life story gifts - research an affordable door-to-door courier (examples here) and make it a lovely surprise for your relative to open during this lockdown.

• Make a playlist. If you know the music your loved one enjoys, begin a playlist for them. If you are unsure of some details, liaise with staff and make it a three-way remote project between yourself, your loved one and the care worker(s) supporting them.

• Send a food parcel, or package up favourite cosmetics, clothing, books, magazines, cd’s, dvd’s, hobby materials or other things your loved one will enjoy receiving. There are lots of things you can order online and have them delivered straight to your loved one, or get some extra items with your grocery shop, package them up and send them via a door-to-door courier. Again, this will make a lovely surprise.

All of these ideas, of course, won’t ever replace that personal contact, but in the face of the current restrictions I hope families will find comfort in being able to do something practical to feel more useful and to ease those long days until they meet again.

Next month I will continue to look at the issues raised by the coronavirus pandemic. Until then:

• Keep safe
• Stay at home
• Keep your distance from others
• Look after yourselves
• And stay well.

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886
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Communication - It’s more than just words

With over 200 blogs on D4Dementia now, some of them approaching 7 years old in May this year, I've decided to spend my 2019 year of blogging by re-visiting some of the topics I’ve covered previously, throwing fresh light on why they remain relevant, and updating them with some of my more recent experiences. To begin, I want to look at communication.

In 2013 I wrote a very popular blog entitled, ‘Don’t ignore me.’ It was all about how a person with dementia might express themselves, highlighting that;

“Speech is only one form of communication; assessing body language, the choices being made, positive or negative reactions and different behaviours can often tell us a great deal without a single word being uttered.”

It was a blog I wrote mostly to share how my dad communicated, particularly in the latter years of his dementia, in the hope it might help others to understand that a lack of verbal communication isn’t, as many of us might assume, the end of communication.

Losing the ability to verbally communicate is something I see often in people whose dementia has significantly advanced. Sadly those people are still being far too quickly and easily written off, as I described in my ‘Don’t ignore me’ blog where I wrote about that hideous phrase ‘unresponsive’:

“A popular phrase to describe someone with advanced dementia is ‘unresponsive’. In my view it is a description that says more about the abilities of the person using it than the person with dementia. No one is ever 'unresponsive'. You may have to work a bit harder to find something that creates a reaction, but even someone with very advanced dementia is capable of expressing themselves in their own unique way if they are stimulated to do that, and the person enabling that stimulation then has the ability to interpret the resulting expression.”

You might imagine that in 2019 the phrase ‘unresponsive’ to describe the communication of a person with dementia would be obsolete, but not so. I saw it written in more than one care plan in the latter part of 2018, and promptly sought to change the perceptions of the people who’d written those plans.

On the flip side, also in the latter part of 2018 I saw some truly inspirational communication with a gentleman called Peter*, who is in his 50's and has been speech-impaired for most of his life. Peter's family, rather than finding this difficult describe it as a blessing. Why? Because his siblings say it meant that they grew up learning to communicate in multiple different ways, rather than relying on speech as most of us do.

Peter's family have developed, as a unit, a communication system highly personal to them, that combines elements of sign language, body language, facial expressions, body movements, objects and pictures. They emphasise that rather than just using their mouths, they and Peter use their whole body to communicate. So for example, flexing his toes means that Peter needs to move. In order to observe this if Peter is wearing socks, his family bought him toe socks.

While I was with Peter and his family I also saw something I rarely see in mainstream dementia services – mirroring. This is where those communicating with the person mirror their non-verbal signals, enabling the person to feel that those around them have a real rapport and connection with them and share their emotions and ideas, giving the person a greater sense of engagement and belonging. True mirroring is subconscious, and is very different from imitation, which is a conscious effort to copy a person that can be very disrespectful.

It was fascinating to watch Peter and his siblings communicating, proving that a lack of speech is no barrier to a deep and loving connection that hopefully ensures that Peter feels understood, valued and never, ever ignored. Granted, Peter and his family have had years to adapt and refine how they communicate with each other, and listening to their story it certainly hasn’t been easy, but the message I took away from meeting them was that no matter how difficult the circumstances, if you are creative in your approach, focused on what is possible (rather than dwelling on what isn’t), and prepared to adapt and change, you will find those moments of connection that may have seemed illusive. 

Of course when you’re thinking about supporting a loved one with dementia, or as a professional working in dementia care and support, the greatest difficulty is often that dementia is a bit like shifting sands - as fast as you find a breakthrough, something changes and you need to re-evaluate and try something new. Rapid change isn’t something Peter's family have had to cope with as yet, but we certainly had that with my dad.

So, what does all this mean for someone currently supporting a person, with or without dementia, for whom verbal communication is now limited or non-existent. For me, the best first step is observation. The time you might otherwise spend thinking of what you want to say, saying it and trying, perhaps in vain, to be understood needs instead to be spent observing the person. 

Never starring, just discreet observation, taking in everything about the person, what they are doing with their body (or not doing that is otherwise usual for them) and what they are telling you through those movements, perhaps wanting something or someone, indicating that something is wrong (or right, don’t miss the positive things too) or giving non-verbal clues that something is missing. Think of this like an unfinished sentence - how can you help the person finish what they are trying to communicate? You might need props like objects or pictures to assist you. 

Good observation won't just enhance your communication, it has many other benefits too as I wrote about in my 2015 blog, ‘Harnessing the power of observation’:

“Good observation skills can tell you how a person is feeling, what they want or need and how you can best respond to them. It can also give you clues to their personality, their likes and dislikes, and the ways in which you can seamlessly integrate yourself into their life without being obtrusive, interfering and controlling.”

Even for the best observers, taking in this level of detail undoubtedly takes practice - be prepared for a lot of trial and error, a lot of frustration for you and the person, and going down many blind alleys with what you think is meant but really isn’t at all. But for all the difficulties, it is worth it for those special moments where you do both understand each other. As I said in my ‘Don’t ignore me’ blog:

“It can be easy to ignore an expression that isn’t clearly spoken, but the price paid can be huge in terms of emotional, physical and mental distress to someone who is already vulnerable, often frustrated, and ultimately looking for understanding, appreciation and love.”

(*Name changed to protect identity)

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886
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Repetition, repetition, repetition

One of the symptoms of dementia that those around the person with dementia find most difficult to cope with is repetition. Families and professionals alike often express frustration, leading onto exasperation, which often ends in irritation and possibly even an argument with the person who has dementia.

Repetition is a very common symptom of dementia. My dad went through a stage of repeating the same questions, and as his communication ability diminished the repetitive questions were replaced by saying the same words or phrases over and over again. To begin with those words or phrases would sometimes bear some correlation to the situation or conversation going on at that time, but as the years went by they became completely random.

The patterns of my dad's repetitive speech often left me wondering what message he was trying to convey to me, and that is arguably one of the most difficult aspects of repetition for the people around an individual with dementia. You desperately want to unravel the meaning behind their words and respond to that with an answer that provides the reassurance they may be looking for, but without being able to move the conversation on the prospect of finding a resolution that gets to the heart of what the person with dementia needs or wants becomes a distant one.

As someone observing a loved one's life with dementia, it is impossible to truly know the impact of repetition on the person who is living with dementia. I would suggest, however, that many of the feelings that a carer is experiencing (frustration, exasperation and irritation) are potentially also being experienced by the person with dementia too. The difficulty for the person with dementia is that they don't necessarily have the ability, either verbally or through physical demonstration (body language or expression), to make those feelings clear. That puts them at a distinct disadvantage to those of us who are family carers or care workers.

It's interesting that as a carer of a person with dementia, the carer's feelings are often seen to be somehow different from the person with dementia, but the emotions that go alongside coping with repetition - as with so many other symptoms of dementia - can be remarkably similar for the person with dementia and those around them, giving us more in common than we often realise.

Developing coping mechanisms is a key attribute for a carer, because so many people simply don't cope well with constant repetition – examples of coping methods include taking a quick ‘time out’ or deep breathing exercises (these may sound trivial, but they do work for some carers). Patience is another key attribute. I’ve never yet seen or experienced a resolution to a person’s constant repetition by losing patience with them. Yes they may have asked what the time is, requested the toilet or questioned when the next mealtime is on 20 occasions already, but getting angry is unlikely to prevent the next 20 requests. Equally, telling the person that they’ve already asked that question or said that statement isn’t likely to help end their repetition because they may very well not remember what they said previously.

Of course it’s easy to say ‘exercise patience’ – repetition can be incredibly mentally draining to both listen to and constantly respond to  – but alongside patience there are other techniques that can be helpful, although I’d stress that as each person with dementia is an individual, what will work well for one person won’t necessarily have an impact with someone else. 

Techniques to try include:

Embedding your response: Persistent questioning about the time can sometimes be resolved by providing a ‘dementia friendly’ clock or similar item, enabling the person with dementia to track time themselves which helps facilitate their independence. Coupling that with a day-by-day board that enables the person to track what is happening when can help with questions about daily events, like mealtimes, whilst good signage can assist with enabling the person to go to the toilet independently without having to ask. However, visual aids only work if the person has good vision and the cognitive ability to absorb what they are seeing, so make sure this is checked – move to audible reminders if hearing is a stronger sense than vision. Likewise, if the person doesn't have the mobility to meet their needs (like going to the toilet), then your help will always be required.

Distraction – Changing the conversation: Some carers successfully use distraction techniques to move the conversation away from whatever the person with dementia is repeating and towards something else. This can work, although sometimes moving away from a topic causing repetition can then mean that wherever you steer the conversation to next will become a topic for repetition.

Distraction - Activity: Introducing an activity, be it something to do with daily living (“Let’s make a cup of tea,” or “Let’s do some housework.”) or a hobby that the person enjoys, can be helpful in taking their mind off whatever the topic is of their repetition. Offering the right activity for the moment is key here, and may need to be something more energetic, like going outside or making the bed, or could be something much more sedate, like reading a book together or singing songs.

What I personally wouldn’t advocate is ignoring the person. Some people use this as a technique in the belief that the person with dementia will simply give up the repetition when they don’t get a response, and by responding you only fuel repetition further – a bit like the parenting technique where you leave the child to self-sooth. However, in relation to dementia I dislike this as a technique because apart from anything else it feels disrespectful. It also does nothing to increase the person’s trust in those around them, doesn’t encourage their independence in any way (even though it may be used in the false belief that it does increase independence), doesn’t help to meet any unmet needs that they may have, and runs the risk of something vital being missed.

The risk, when repetition becomes very monotonous and wearing is that a carer becomes so immersed in coping with it that vital clues are ignored, which might result in an episode of incontinence or not recognizing when something is wrong with the person’s health. When repetition takes the form of answering yes to every question asked, or no to every question asked, it might seem reasonable (and easier) to take those answers at face value, but it may simply be that the person is repeating an answer because that’s their current pattern of repetition, rather than because they really intended to give that answer.

This doesn’t mean that the person with dementia is being untruthful, it’s just how their dementia is manifesting itself at that time. Always be alert that an answer on a key issue, like how a person is feeling in relation to their health, should also be accompanied by the carer observing the person to make sure vital opportunities – for example to spot the deterioration of an infection - aren’t missed.

One final key point about repetition is that it is rarely static indefinitely. What is the sole topic of repetition one week can easily change the next week, and sometimes repetition stops as suddenly as it began, in the same way that many dementia symptoms come and go. When all else fails, responding with soothing kindness will at least ensure that you have tried to alleviate any distress being felt, and that you have appreciated the key point that the person with dementia may be feeling just as unhappy about their repetition as you are.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

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Terms of endearment – The ‘darling’ debate

A couple of months ago the Care Quality Commission (CQC) released a report detailing an inspection of a care home in Harrogate where the language used by staff when communicating with residents came under the spotlight. Care home staff had been using terms such as “sweetie”, “darling”, “handsome” and “love”, and the inspection team were concerned about these being “demeaning and patronising”.

Since then plenty of people have weighed in with their opinion on the use of terms of endearment in social care settings, and I’ve been fascinated at how polarised viewpoints have been on this issue. Some people feel such terms introduce welcome informality and infer kindness and compassion, whilst others have found them offensive and disrespectful.

Given that my dad spent the last nine years of his life in three different care homes, he and us as his family gathered plenty of experience in the different ways staff addressed dad. These ranged from the formal ‘Mr Britton’ and the less formal use of his forename, all the way through to calling him “uncle”, which was intended by staff as a term of endearment.

I can’t say what dad thought of the different ways in which he was addressed, since he never spoke to me about them or reacted differently depending on how he was addressed. I personally never had a particular issue with any of the ways in which he was addressed, which starkly contrasts with other usage of language that I really did have a massive problem with.

The term “change your nappy” when referring to changing dad’s incontinence pad was amongst the phrases I loathed the most, and something I touched on in my blog post R-E-S-P-E-C-T. This to me was a grossly inappropriate use of language, and interestingly given the largely overseas workforce was a phrase actually used by an English care worker, so it certainly wasn’t a case of inadvertently misunderstanding the meaning.

Ultimately of course, all use of language comes down to what the person being spoken to feels comfortable with. I can’t imagine many older people in a care home would want their incontinence pad to be described as a nappy, but I guess it’s possible that some people MIGHT find that phrase familiar to them and be comfortable with it. I just felt my dad would be extremely offended and it was entirely inappropriate for him.

The same of course is true with terms of endearment, and this was the point so clearly illustrated in the fallout from the CQC report. Whatever someone prefers to be called is what they should be called - individual preference should override any viewpoints staff or indeed inspectors have. But the key point here is choice. 

It’s vital to prominently document how someone likes to be addressed from the moment they enter any type of residential care. This should be known by all staff, including any agency staff from the beginning of their shift, and we should never make assumptions. Shortening forenames isn’t something everyone will like – a gentleman called Jonathan might not want to be called John. The formality of calling someone Mr or Mrs may make them feel uncomfortable… or it may be exactly how they want and expect to be addressed. A person may prefer the use of a middle name, or even prefer a name that isn’t associated with their given name at all.

Then of course there is this tricky area of terms of endearment. In some parts of the UK, especially more northern parts, terms of endearment are commonplace amongst the population and are likely to be heard everywhere from shops to hospitals, with many people finding them reassuring and comforting, like the familiar taste of regional foods or beverages.

But they will never be to everyone’s liking. I’ve been called “love” and “darling” before and not minded, but I wouldn’t appreciate being called “duck” for example. Care providers, no matter how heavy their workload, have to ensure that all individual preferences are catered for and not strayed from, no matter how easy it might be for staff members to revert to what is most familiar to them. In the end, it’s all about person-centred care and that begins from the very first interaction.

Of course staff will never get it right all of the time, that’s human nature and a rare slip of the tongue is forgivable, but it is perhaps worth reflecting on the following. Many people who move into residential care feel they lose a huge amount when they make that move, but to lose your right to be addressed as you would want to be is something no one should ever lose.

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

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A precious gift

I've often thought about what the most precious gift is that you could give a person with dementia in the absence of a cure. I've written before about the importance of love, but I suspect that if I asked a cross-section of people what they think the most precious gift would be, money would be a popular answer.

Unlimited funds would give the person with dementia the chance to do all of the things that they’ve wanted to do, the ultimate bucket list. Of course money can buy you many things – amazing experiences, expert care, a lavish lifestyle and the best of everything – but wealth of that magnitude is the preserve of a select few. Most of us don’t have vast sums to gift to others or have an inexhaustible stash of cash put aside to spend on ourselves.

In my view, giving your time is a more precious gift than money and it’s inclusive; we can all give our time to a person with dementia and it doesn't cost anything. Most people hugely underestimate the difference that can be made by giving their time, not realizing that it is a gift that forms the cornerstone of quality of life – without it every other attempt to enable a person to live well with dementia is likely to fail.

Many people have reported that when they were diagnosed with a type of dementia they went through a period of mourning the fact that dementia, being a terminal disease, is likely to cut their life short. Losing years off of your life is cruel in a way that words cannot do justice to, but perhaps even more cruel is being denied the time of those around you - people who may well outlive you and yet are not willing to give you the time of day. 

A simple 'Hello my name is' as epitomized by the fantastic campaign created by Dr Kate Granger is too much for some people to manage, and yet how long does such an introduction honestly take? In our lives we've become too busy to stop and realize the gift of time, and in care settings, we’ve become too task orientated, wanting to get those boxes ticked as speedily as possible.

Your time is such a great gift to give a person you are caring for because it enables so many other amazing things to happen:

• It makes choice REAL. Giving a person with dementia time to choose between different outfits, foods, drinks, personal care options or things to do gives them ownership over what their day will be like. Rushing them because you don’t have time to allow them to think or express their thoughts takes away that choice. Giving them time also allows you to make suggestions if they are struggling with choices and support them in making their choice.

• It enables communication. As a person’s dementia advances, they will need more time to communicate with you and to understand what you are trying to communicate to them. Not giving them your time is going to stifle that communication and they will lose their communication skills much more rapidly.

• It deals with challenges. Dementia is tough to live with – anyone with dementia will tell you that. Not having the time of the people who are supporting you makes it a great deal more challenging because your memory recall will be rushed, you will struggle to follow what is happening around you, and you may begin to feel that things are happening to you, not with you. All of that leads to the common elements of ‘behaviour that challenges’. Being given more time to communicate, understand and participate means that your needs are more likely to be met.

• It supports emotions. Bottling up emotions can only lead to emotional outbursts that fuel ‘behaviour that challenges’. Giving someone your time to express their fears, anger, sadness, frustration and bewilderment isn’t easy, but by doing that you are likely to also bring about the expression of more positive emotions; happiness, contentment, peace, hope and possibly even some cheeky fun. 

As a general rule, everything that feeds into person-centred care results from giving someone your time. Everything that contributes to ‘behaviour that challenges’ generally results from not giving a person your time. That is why giving your time is such a precious gift, and why I will never regret giving the countless hours of my teen and twenty-something years to my dad. Even when that time was spent in silence, it was time well spent.

 

Giving someone with dementia your time is a gift that gives something back. You will learn from the conversation that will be created, the body language that will be demonstrated or the experience you will have in that moment with that person. The majority of what I’ve learnt about dementia has come from giving my dad, and other people living with dementia, my time. In return they've given me what I share with you on this blog. If nothing else, I hope that inspires you to give someone you know who is living with dementia some of your time.

Until my next blog post...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

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Talking about dementia... with your patient

Welcome to the last of my seven ‘mini’ blogs for UK Dementia Awareness Week 2014.

Concerns that a person is developing dementia aren't just restricted to that individual - they also affect those closest to them, bringing complex relationships into play. Over this Awareness Week I want to look at some of the emotions and reactions that underpin the difficult conversations thousands of people are having, or thinking of having, as they open up about dementia.

Day 7 - 'A good bedside manner'

Even for professionals who have (we hope) been trained in how to broach the subject of dementia, it can be a difficult step. Many doctors and nurses have told me that despite the increased awareness of dementia, raising concerns about the potential development of it to a patient isn't easy. Indeed, one of the key objections to the idea of screening people for dementia was the way in which it could potentially alter the doctor/patient dynamic, and force very uncomfortable (and in many cases inappropriate) conversations.

During the period of my father's diagnosis, the medics we met really didn't cover themselves in glory in terms of their method and manner of communication or their ability to explain, empathize, reassure, personalize or indeed work with us as a family. It was a very prescriptive experience, and we didn't appreciate the feeling that we were being processed through a system.

A doctor with a genuine concern that a patient is developing dementia should be one of the best-placed people to help that patient, but it should never be about ticking boxes. An empathetic conversation that includes signposting to support and advice is a doctor’s role, but in amongst raising those concerns it is vital to remember that for the majority of patients there will be other people in their life, as I have explored in my last six blog posts, who will also be affected by any potential diagnosis.
 
Opening up to a person you know about your concerns that they may be developing dementia is a conversation most people dread and many seek to postpone for as long as possible. For help and advice on how to broach the topic of dementia, read my blog post 'Having THAT conversation'.

 

Until next time...

You can follow me on Twitter: @bethyb1886

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Talking about dementia... with your employee

Welcome to the sixth of my seven ‘mini’ blogs for UK Dementia Awareness Week 2014.

Concerns that a person is developing dementia aren't just restricted to that individual - they also affect those closest to them, bringing complex relationships into play. Over this Awareness Week I want to look at some of the emotions and reactions that underpin the difficult conversations thousands of people are having, or thinking of having, as they open up about dementia.

Day 6 - 'The understanding employer'

I would venture to suggest that most employers - when questioned about their approach to an employee developing dementia - would say that they can’t cope with employing an individual should they have an official diagnosis.

A greater hammer-blow to a person with early-onset (young-onset) dementia, who may still be in full-time employment and relying on that income, is hard to imagine. It arguably ranks alongside losing your driving license as one of the most pivotally disempowering moments for a person who has developed dementia. Yet looking at each person’s situation individually, and trying to make reasonable modifications to their workload or environment, could enable an employee to continue to work for as long as possible if they want to.

Given the myth that still proliferates that dementia is a disease of ageing, many employers would potentially not think of dementia even if an employee of working age is exhibiting dementia-related symptoms. Yet with the drive to boost diagnosis rates, understanding what dementia is, and how your business could help an employee developing dementia (or indeed an employee who is a carer for an individual with dementia) will become increasingly important.
 
Opening up to a person you know about your concerns that they may be developing dementia is a conversation most people dread and many seek to postpone for as long as possible. For help and advice on how to broach the topic of dementia, read my blog post 'Having THAT conversation'.

 

Next post on 24 May 2014.
Until then...

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