Dementia may be no laughing matter, but unexpected comic moments can bring light to the darkness, as Arthur Smith relates 

A man goes to the doctor and the doctor says, “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news – you’ve got Alzheimer’s and you’ve got cancer.” “Oh well,” says the man, “at least I haven’t got Alzheimer’s.”

This joke always gets a laugh from an audience, as does quoting the French historian and journalist Jacques Banville, who wrote, “The old repeat themselves, the young have nothing to say – the boredom is mutual,” followed by, “The old repeat themselves, the young have nothing to say – the boredom is mutual.”

If you live long enough then it may be coming your way; something like half of people over the age of 90 suffer from dementia and, despite a lot of work from scientists, there is still no cure for it. One of the earliest and most recognisable symptoms is memory loss, particularly difficulty remembering recent events or information. A person may repeatedly ask the same questions, misplace items, or forget important dates. As the condition progresses, other cognitive functions become impaired, including reasoning, problem-solving, language, and the ability to focus. People with dementia may struggle to follow conversations, find the right words, or make decisions.

After my father (Syd) died, my mother (Hazel) began to fret about the possibility of succumbing to dementia, a fact she recorded in the diary she kept:

Thursday 28 December 2006
Memory and recall is not good. Am I going towards my mother’s disease? If I am – nothing much matters – my brain will gradually die over five, six, seven years. God help me – but I’m happy to die. I welcome death and peace, perfect peace. Going to Syd, I hope? In the meantime, and he would approve of such practicality, I’m going to Sainsbury’s.

Aged eight, Hazel had been evacuated during the war. Her parents told her to try to keep her and her two younger siblings together and I think this experience made her the very orderly person she became; she always oversaw the payment of bills and organised the household and she dreaded losing these skills.

Hazel now lived alone for the first time in her life and her condition slowly worsened. I stayed with her in Tonbridge as often as I could and became her part-time carer. Then, when she was found wandering the streets asking for a lift to London, my brothers and I realised it was time for her to go into a care home. I was worried about how she would cope with this but the carers were wonderful and Hazel’s despair disappeared as she slowly forgot she had dementia. She no longer knew who her sons were but became much happier, singing along with the other residents and enjoying the walks we took her on around the local gardens.

It had been a worrying time for me and my brothers but we took some pleasure in the funny things Hazel said in the last years of her life. I hope she would forgive me for sharing a few of them here…

Hazel: I must stop theorising about the weather.
Me: Why?
Hazel: Well, I’m not a very good weather theoretician.

“I’m doing fine, touch wood, not that there is any wood to touch.”

We see a dead hedgehog. “It lived a good life – well, as far as we know.”

“Send my love to everyone, or everyone who’s interested in my love.”

Watching the news: “What a difficult world we live in. I would hate it.”

“Is it tomorrow or today? Or now?”

Watching TV: “Marvellously bald man. Well done. He must wash his head just like his face.”

“I like sandwiches, they cut across borders.”

“I don’t eat mince pies but I like the people who do. I admire them.”

“When I think about my mother I can’t remember if she is dead or alive but it doesn’t really matter.”

“I’ll drop dead here or, if needs be, somewhere else.”

“Good old south-east London. Do people still live there?”

“I wouldn’t want to live in Buckingham Palace – it would take you all day to get from one end to the other. And you’d have to walk over eggs.”

“My worldly goods. I either eat them, suck them, or use them to clean the floor.”

Me: “Have you got much willpower?”
Hazel: “Well, I’ve looked for it. I’ve gone around asking people. I’m sure I’ll find it.”

Hazel died in 2022 aged 92. Let me end this tribute to her with a poem I wrote during her dotage.

Pulling up after the wedding reception
they see her, their neighbour,
standing in the street.
She asks them for a lift to London
Back home in London.
“Hazel,” they say
“you live here in this house.
London is 30 miles away”
Her door is open.
They take her in
and see she has packed a bag,
(if a jumper and a biscuit count as packing)

Oh Hazel,
It is 35 years since you left London
to live, as you said, “in the shires”.
but there she still is
the grammar school girl
from Camberwell Green
Dancing, kissing sailors
In Trafalgar Square.
It is VE day
and the rest of the century
Is yours.

This article is from Idler #111.

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