Holding the home together

In our household, cleaning was the sole task that Mum completed daily from the very beginning. Sadly, this became much more challenging throughout her diagnosis. To this day it is one of the hardest jobs to complete in my house, as the noise distractions from the vacuum cleaner often agitate her, resulting in the hoovering being postponed day after day. Clumps of dog fur, cobwebs, and dusty windowsills that were once unheard of soon became a common sight in our home. I couldn't even step outside for long enough to clean the windows, in case Mum wandered out of the house without my knowing.

Something as simple as polishing the shelves irritated her, whether it was the noise of the spray or the smell of the polish. Changing her bed sheets bothered her, as she noticed the change when her bed was unmade. I tried showing her the sheets in the washing machine, reassuring her that they'd be put straight back on once they had dried, but it made no difference. She always wanted a particular set of sheets on, so a spare set didn't suffice. Attempting to engage Mum in the cleaning tasks herself was unsuccessful; it only highlighted her loss and confusion over something she could have done with her eyes closed once before.

The simple act of pushing the hoover back and forth once was enough for her, often leaving rooms unfinished. She showed no passion for upkeep, no love for her home anymore. Family heirlooms were damaged or broken during fits of rage, whether from throwing the hoover or tossing her shoes around to get me to stop if I attempted to finish it. So, I tried to clean while she was napping, needing to close doors to prevent disturbances. Opening and closing the washing machine door, stepping out the back door to hang washing on the line or to put it in the tumble dryer, washing and drying pots, and opening cupboards to put pots away all caused disturbances and woke her up, no matter how quiet I tried to be, triggering her anxiety as I was out of sight and then repeating the frustration because I was cleaning.

I became increasingly conscious of visitors arriving, as I often hadn’t had the chance to tidy up. It lacked care, and I worried about how people would perceive our way of living. Would they think I couldn’t cope or that it was all becoming too much for me?.

If someone had said that this is what the future looks like for something so simple in our eyes, I would have laughed.

During lucid moments, Mum feels a great deal of shame acknowledging that she doesn’t know how to do things anymore. I try to reassure her that it isn't an issue and that I can happily do it for her, with her help when she feels like it.