Because I Know who he is

A heartfelt account of a family’s journey in dealing with dementia

First-time author Sarah Smith releases her book, Because I Know Who He Is, detailing her dad's battle with dementia. Her dad, William "Bill" Mann was a Dalmuir-born philanthropist who devoted most of his life to helping good causes, particularly in the arts & sports worlds, and was awarded a CBE. Erskine was fortunate enough to know Bill as he was a resident in Erskine Glasgow until his death in 2019.

Sarah's book details the overwhelming changes and emotions experienced when a loved one has dementia and will be joining us on Erskine Veterans Radio next week to talk more about her experiences. You can order her book via the link:

https://olympiapublishers.com/books/because-i-know-who-he-is

Chapter 4 Excerpt Continued

I drove home with a heavy heart, but I knew from the visits I had made to Erskine when choosing it, that all the residents are not only cared for, but loved by all the staff — doctors, nurses, carers, domestics, and admin staff - and for that matter, other residents’ families. Some of the ‘guys’ living there had done so for years and some were new like dad, but I had only ever seen kindness, patience and love for one and all (even if not all the residents felt the same every day!) I called Ewa later that evening to be told dad had eaten everything for dinner and had had seconds (he always had a great appetite!) and had happily chatted away to the other guys. I keep using that phrase I know, but I mean men and women. I soon learnt we were all just a part of the Erskine family… and, unusually for a family, it was one that didn’t fight, just one that supports  35 and cares for one another… in my book that’s a pretty good one.

So I knew that night when I went to bed that dad was safe, warm, well fed and cared for and should he not sleep once more through the night, he would have company; someone to watch tv with, someone to chat to and (as I was to learn the next day) someone to have tea and sandwiches with when he just needed to be fed again! I also knew this wouldn’t be easy for dad and if I’m honest I had no idea how difficult it would be for me, because of my ignorance of dementia. But I also knew that with the guidance of everyone at Erskine we would never be on our own taking that journey. That knowledge allowed me to sleep properly for the first night in ages.

Chapter Six - A Duty of Care

The world of dementia was entirely new to me and although at times it frightened me, I wanted to know more and learn everything I could to try and understand it, which would in turn allow me to understand Dad more.

Instead of settling into Erskine as I hoped, he was becoming increasingly antagonistic and sometimes aggressive towards me. The incessant questions regarding when we were going home, what time it was, when was lunch, dinner etc were taking their toll on me. Bruce was always at the end of the phone when I left to go home to speak to and Simon, my lovely partner, was always waiting with a hug on my return. It was hard for Molly, Max and Rosie too as I wanted to protect them from what was actually happening but at the same time, they saw me upset and they also wanted to see their grandpa.

I realised quite quickly that dad thought we (him and I) were living in a private members’ club abroad, and to dispute this was not only pointless but in fact cruel. He had plans for our departure wherein he would sell his house and we would live in a smaller property happily together, with Lottie of course!

One day it was all too much and I sat and spoke to Tracey (one of the senior care assistants) and cried my eyes out. She told me not only do they have a duty of care to each resident but also to their families and to let it all out. That was a lovely moment for me and to everyone because I realised, she and all the staff at Erskine, meant it. Not only was dad suffering but we were too. When I asked how on earth to deal with it, she simply said I had to enter into his world as he believes that to be reality. It seemed so obvious looking back but I hadn’t thought about it before. Instead, I had been correcting him on the old stories or even questioning what he had told me he had done that day… how could I have been so cruel and stupid?

So that’s what I did and encouraged everyone else to do the same, it DID make life easier. Yes, wee dad’s suitcase was packed every day without fail and yes, he asked every day when we were leaving, but I was better equipped to answer his questions and telling a wee white lie was OK as it kept him calm(er!).

I quietly unpacked the suitcase when he was in the loo or told him I needed to tidy up his room and most times I ‘got away’ with that. Dad would ask me if my room was as nice as his (he knew I had children so accepted I would need a bigger room to accommodate everyone) and when I appeared midmorning and he would ask where ‘the hell’ I had been (dad never swore pre dementia) I would simply say I was with the kids. Trips out were not successful, even to his beloved Accies or The Baths.

Don’t get me wrong, he enjoyed them at the time but returning to Erskine was always very difficult. He would become very upset and angry, and I never did it alone. Eventually I decided the joy of lunch, rugby etc was outweighed by the distress it caused returning to Erskine, so any trips thereafter would only be with the Erskine team and on the Erskine bus.

That was a sad day, as I recognised I would never have dad in my home again or do the things he really loved together.