I am learning more about the stress of being alone. I have had three twelve hour shifts with Anna, Friday-Sunday, with new carers. The known carers have all gone away at once – my anger with their managers for not sorting something better has kept me going.
Anna has been agitated – ‘I can’t cope’, she says. I know how she feels.
I realise how dependent I am also on the known carers. I hang on in there until the door bell goes and they come and Anna gives them a smile. But when it is someone she does not recognise and there is no smile, I have also got nothing then to look forward to.
I think how my state of mind may be like Anna’s. There are times that she also has to live with herself, hanging on until she recognises someone or something. ‘I don’t know you.’ Her fury is that they cannot help her with the terrible knowledge that she is alone with herself.
She sees people she does not recognise. It makes her think that this is therefore not her house. There is logic to that. ‘I love the little lady.’ But she is not there.
I look at the blank puzzlement on Anna’s face. With dementia it seem that you get lost even in your own head. You don’t even recognise your own thoughts.
For myself, I am not really alone. Dan came round. A friend stayed over. But it was still a very long weekend, and I recognise for myself that the stress of it was more than I would want to take for long.
I sense that there is a default survival mode, like a computer on standby, - what I would call a gin and chocolate existence. Thinking slows - my conversation is repetitive with Anna – full of ontological reassurance – ‘I’m here’ – ‘Where are you?’ - ‘I’m here’ - ‘Yes?’ - ‘Yes’ …
The fear of being alone is very real. I remember my father not wanting to die alone.
Absences become very important. The absence of a carer, who has retired. At a weekend, the services only have an emergency anonymous number. On Sunday we went to find a Memory Walk but there was no-one there. This week support workers are off sick or on holiday. I have had a premonition of what it could be like really to be old and alone, like some other clients that the carers go to.

But I can go back to work today. I was watching the highlights of the Ryder Cup last night, where there was a golfer who did very well a month after the tragic death of his wife. I can understand that.