Something was wrong.

Around that time in 2007, when I thought something was wrong with Beryl's mental health I also noticed she kept complaining about a non nondescript 'stinging' in her left arm. That was the excuse I made to see the doctor, making sure it was s female doctor as I was thinking that that would be less of an ordeal for her as she infrequently saw doctors on a regular type basis, even for checkups that she deemed 'invasive' (I'm thinking of the smear test, you ladies know what I mean). She went, not long after the menopause, for a smear test and she found it an ordeal and never went again, she said it was painful too.

So she was never too keen on seeing doctors and nurses, like much of her, and my generation, we only made appointments to see them when it was really, really necessary. The younger generation forget their history and think the NHS has been here forever but there was a time, before the National Health Service was born in 1948 and overseen by the Labour leader Aneurin Bevan and ordinary working folk had to pay for a consultation and prescriptions or buy health care insurance to see them through illness, a lot of which was brought on by deprived living conditions and work in industry. It was instilled into people of our generation that the NHS was god sent to the hard working classes and to this day I am proud of this countries commitment to the NHS but not proud of the way it is going and have many misgivings. But I digress.

The doctor was marvellous and noticed from Beryl's files that she had not been to the surgery for a long while and decided to give her the 'full works.' Beryl's heart and blood pressure were fine and her blood samples came back negative...she, to the layman was as "fit as a fiddle". During the middle of all this I spoke up about my concerns about Beryl's mental state and all she could do (the doctor) was refer her to the Memory Clinic.

Memories!

Our first visit to the memory clinic was, Er, memorable. The first person you have to see is the clinic nurse who goes through an evaluation process straight out of a manual. I was told at the outset not to interrupt or try and give Beryl any help in phrasing answers etc but could give my thoughts afterwards. The usual questions ensued:

What day is it?
What month is it?
What year is it?
What Season is it?
Who is the president of the USA?
Who is the Prime Minister of the UK?

All standard stuff that I had expected but then the nurse went on for over nearly an hour with diagrams, phrases and, in the middle of all this, would talk about a scenario involving two or three people but would stop half way through and say that she would come back to it then somewhere down the line would ask Beryl to recall the scenario and give answers to her questions about it...well, I couldn't remember most of this type of questioning and felt for Beryl. There is now doubt though that she has the disease though. The next thing was a brain scan. And since then nothing, Nada. We are totally alone with Alzheimer's and I think I prefer it that way.I couldn't bear leaving her with someone she does not know as she looks for me whenever I am out of sight. The time will come though when I have to leave her in the care of others but now is not the time.

I think I am up to the present now and will blog other times about the day to day workings of someone who has Alzheimer's.

To be continued...