Extreme Knitting Redhead: The Year End

Tuesday, December 31, 2024

The Year End

I'm having trouble with the formatting of my blog at the moment and the paragraphs keep merging into oneanother. Most likely my own fault so I apologise if it looks a bit weird! So tomorrow, in the UK, we'll be into another New Year, 2025. I wonder what it will hold for us all? Let's hope it's a good one, especially for those who are in war zones or struggling just to survive. Sorry to sound morbid but I often feel a bit odd, or rather out of kilter, around this time. I don't do New Years resolutions these days but I do try to be kind and patient to others. I'm now looking at my next knitting/crochet/gardening/running projects and I think I'm going to be rather busy!!! On the knitting front, I've just wound some lovely yarn to make myself a cardigan:

Of course it had to be inspected by Shelley!

She was very good when I was using the ball winder, which is unusual as she usually jumps up and tries to catch hold of the yarn! I'm hoping to get to run a marathon this weekend but I'm a bit unsure as the weather forecast is looking pretty dire and it's quite a way to drive. I"ll just have to decide on the day.

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Mum's Story

In 1997 my mother, then aged 81, had a series of minor strokes. Shortly after that we started to notice behavioural changes notably memory loss and confusion over everyday items. We thought it was just old age finally catching up with her. Then she started wandering and had violent mood swings. Although she already lived with us it became obvious that she couldn't be left alone for long and so I left my job to care for her. The next few years saw a gradual decline into the blackness that is 'vascular dementia'. My normally placid mum became violent and aggressive. She had psychotic incidents where she would see imaginary people (children hiding in her wardrobe, Russians sitting on the stairs, women stealing her clothes) and she would shout at them and sometimes throw things too. She was so convincing that we used to go and check that there wasn't anyone there! When my sister died mum did not know who Judy was or that she was her daughter. There came a point when I suddenly realised she no longer knew that I was her daughter and this was a terrible time for me. In the last 2 years that she lived with us, life for us all became almost unbearable as she needed 24 hour care - she couldn't be left alone at all because she would either wander off or hurt herself, she never slept for more than 30 minutes at a time during the night, she became incontinent and incapable of doing anything for herself. Finally my husband and I realised that we could no longer provide her with the care that she needed and she went to live in a special care home where the team did a splendid job caring for her in the last few months of her life. There she lived a zombified existence unaware of who she was, what she was or where she was. It was heartbreaking. She died in March 2005, the day after her 89th birthday.

Thank you for taking the time to read mum's story and I hope you'll dig deep and sponsor me using the link below to help find a way of beating this destructive disease.