Thursday, 12 May 2016


Mum’s definitely slowing down. And it’s the physical stuff I notice the most. When she first moved to the rest home, Mum could walk confidently almost anywhere. She pottered around by herself - down to the shops, off to the library and round the block for regular walks. Now, outside of her room, she can barely manage a few steps without reaching for the support of my arm. The woman who took up yoga in her fifties then practised it religiously, every day for twenty years, now has the flexibility and spring of an abandoned sofa. Speaking of which, getting off the sofa is now a major operation - Mum counts, “One, two, three,” and I haul her up with both hands.

Suddenly, Mum seems to have lost all traces of aerobic fitness. A short stroll from my place to the corner store now seems like a half marathon. Mum stops after a few dozen steps to lean on a fence. Or admire some tiny flower. “How much further?” she asks. “I don't think I can go on.”

I’m a bit mystified by all this. There’s so much happening. Some of it’s obviously mental, while other parts are clearly physical. Over the past few years, Mum’s developed rheumatism in her knee. Medication lessens the pain but the stiffness persists. The combination of the two has caused Mum to stop walking which has seriously eaten into her fitness levels.

Then there’s the unsteadiness. My mother, who used to be quick, nimble and gardening-fit, is now positively teetery. Her shoes of choice are no longer sensible ones - old lady sling backs with nylon socks and slippery heels. For some reason, she’s losing sensation in her feet and with it her balance.

It’s a vicious circle that's spiralling downwards.

According to the research, physical exercise helps people who are living with dementia. A lot. An elevated heart rate increases blood flow to the brain, which slows cognitive decline and improves mood. Certainly some mood-enhancing activities wouldn't go amiss.

But life in a rest home doesn't encourage physical activity. There’s trips out in the rest home van, and resident’s rooms are vacuumed and their beds made by staff. Meanwhile residents spend long periods sitting and lying down.

When Mum phones me at work, bored and lonely, I used to suggest she went for a walk. These days Mum tells me she has no-one to go with. It’s true and without someone alongside to motivate and support her, Mum probably wouldn’t make it out the gate.

For Mum, her lack of fitness and energy is the thing she’s hating the most. So I’m trying something new.

Every Saturday I swap her slingbacks for a pair of runners. Whatever we do now includes a fifteen minute walk. It’s compulsory.

And these days, I’m mostly working from home. So I’ve started taking breaks, during the week, to walk with Mum. Five minutes to drive to the rest home, five minutes to get her ready, then a 15 minute walk. I’m back at my desk in under an hour.

The process is interesting for both of us. At the start we feel lazy and unmotivated. Mum’s knee hurts, she’s tired and the weather’s not the best. “It’s a bit inclement,” says Mum as we set off. We walk a bit further and things improve. Mum’s knee is starting to loosen up, our bodies are getting pleasantly warm and our feet have found a slow rhythm.

“There’s nothing like a walk,” said Mum the other day, as we made our way back down the hill to the rest home. “It makes you feel like you've achieved something.”

Hallelujah to that.

1 comment:

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