Diary of A Modern Gran | Carehomes & Tattoos

By Allison Hay

Ilustration: Istockphoto

“Gan Gan,” trills George as he comes running towards me, arms open wide. “I got a tattoo last week but it fell off.”

Am I hearing him right?

I’ve just returned from another four-day stint with my 99-year-old father in the care home. My mind is all over the place. How can tattoos fall off? How can I have left my father?

The answer to the second is that I have to come home to see the rest of my family. But I’ll be back again in a few days.

And the answer to the first is that my grandchildren, daughter and son-in-law have just returned from sunny Spain over half-term where they enjoyed the delights of sun, ice cream and removable (thank goodness) tattoos!

Thank goodness for my grandchildren to distract me. I breathe them as they wrap their warm arms around me. Rose is even more beautiful and grown up. She’s written her first book with neatly folded pages about a mountain that has a birthday.

“Shall I read it to you, Gan Gan?”

Of course. As I hear her talk, I am reminded of the books my parents used to read me and the stories I wrote for them over the years in a series of little notebooks.

Meanwhile, George has shot up in height! He’s also become very grown up in his speech. It’s amazing how much can happen in ten days.

“How is Grandad?” asks Millie.

I can’t tell them that he is thrashing around in his bed, trying to get out even though his feet can’t weight-bear. I can’t tell them that I asked the home to hoist him into a chair (at his request) but that he then immediately wanted to go back to bed (more hoisting).

I can’t tell them that I’ve been helping to feed him. And I certainly can’t tell them that he’s said some horrible things to me which I know is probably part of the brain bleed but which hurts so very much.

So I cross my fingers and say he’s all right, thank you, and that he sends his love.

There is, however, something I’ve learned in the last week. Someone put me in touch with the local hospice in daddy’s area. I had a chat with the lovely nursing team there who said they could offer advice on medication without actually taking Daddy in overnight.

The latter might be a problem because a) we’re not sure how he’d cope with yet another move as he got very stressed going from the hospital to the home and b) my stepmother is two floors above him and likes coming down to see him several times a day. She would be distraught if he wasn’t there.

Anyway, the hospice team came out to assess Daddy and made a couple of suggestions which will complement the medication that the GP has already prescribed.

I just thought you might like to know about this because I’d always been under the impression that hospices “simply” took in in-patients. In fact, they can help outpatients in all kinds of different ways.

Staying overnight in a hospice might still be an option for Daddy but at the moment, he seems well-cared for in the home. My sister and I just wish he was nearer.

Meanwhile, I need to get into a different head set. I’m home for a few days now until the next trip and I want to be with my grandchildren as much as I can.

So my daughter comes up with a rather clever distraction technique. She sends me back to school to learn phonics (or phonetics as I wrongly keep calling it).

“They’re putting on a workshop for parents and carers,” she tells me. “It will be really useful for you.”

This is her diplomatic way of saying that when I help Rose and George with homework reading, I pronounce sounds in the old-fashioned way instead of this latest trend.

“But please,” she adds, “don’t embarrass me. Will you, Mum?”

Embarrass her? Of course I will. It’s part of the job. Now I must admit here that I was a bit of a goody-goody at school. This time, I head for the back row although I must say, I could have done with a back support. The “chairs” were platforms designed for small people, not a granny with a dodgy sacro-something-or other joint. (I can never remember the technical term!)

I find myself sitting next to one of my daughter’s lovely friends so we have a lovely little chin-wag before it starts. Then the head comes in so I decide I’d better pull up my socks. (Actually I’m not wearing any under my jeans but you know what I mean.)

One of the other teachers gives a really clear demonstration about how to pronounce letters and blending (nothing to do with my kitchen gadgets) and something else that I can’t put a name to.

Anyway, I come away feeling distinctly inspired. Between you and me, however, I really don’t see anything wrong with the way we were taught to read. We just seemed to do it without any rules or regulations. There were often words we didn’t understand but for me, it was the story that was important. I would just get to know the tricky words as I got older.

Sometimes, I would borrow my parents’ books when I was far too young to understand them which was probably just as well. I distinctly remember one on their bookshelves called No Love For Johnnie which I devoured around the age of ten without telling them. (I’d read under the covers by torchlight.)

How did you learn to read? Is there a book that stands out in your head? Do let us know by emailing moderngran@dctmedia.co.uk.

Meanwhile, I’m nearly at the end of my time at home. I’ve opened my post, said hello to my husband and have started reading through my proofs for next year’s novel which is set in a seaside town both in the present day and in the Second World War. I’ll tell you more about it next week.

But I can’t stop thinking about Daddy. My sister is with him at the moment and today (as you read this perhaps), I am getting on a train in between the strikes this week.

Thank you to everyone who has emailed me privately with your kind words and support. It means a lot to me.

“Have you finished packing?” asks my husband.

Almost. There’s one thing I need to add.

“A teddy bear?” he asks, watching me trying to cram in a furry paw.

Yes. The care home suggested that Daddy might be comforted if he cuddled something. I thought that was a lovely idea. So I’m taking one of our spare teddies with me.

I might even cuddle it myself.

Remembrance Day

We’ve been talking to Rose and George about Remembrance Day and what it means. Afterwards, Rose drew this poppy. I thought you might like to see it. Sending this with friendship and peace to you all.

Ask Agony Gran

Thank you to Fiona for sending this in.

“My daughter wants me to move in with her and her two children. We are both on our own now. I get lonely and she needs extra help with her children (10 and 8) while she works. Part of me thinks it will be nice to have the company. But part of me feels I don’t want to lose my independence. At the moment, we live two and a half hours away from each other.”

Jane says:

I can totally understand your dilemma. There’s a lot to think about here, isn’t there? On the plus side, you won’t be lonely and you could share bills. But on the negative side, you might feel you miss your own space. Some grandparents who live with their families also say they feel they are “put upon” in terms of “helping out”. It’s not easy for their children too if they want quiet adult time and have granny hovering in the kitchen or lounge.

However, there are various options. Could you put your money together and buy somewhere with a separate kitchen and bedroom/sitting room for you? Or could you rent somewhere close to your daughter in her area so you can see how living nearby works out before you commit to something permanent?

I have a grandparent friend who, together with his son and daughter-in-law, drew up a list of rules before they moved in with each other. It laid down some guidelines about sharing bills and also space.

There are no easy answers with this one. But sometimes, if you don’t try something, you won’t know if it will work or not. If it was me, I’d share all these concerns with your daughter and talk frankly about your worries. It could be a wonderful way of building a firm relationship with your grandchildren, just as long as you are all happy to address any problems that come up without falling out.

If you’d like to share a problem anonymously, email us at moderngran@dctmedia.co.uk

Family News

The average family size in the UK is apparently 2.36. However, another survey suggests that the happiest parents are the ones with four or more children.

We can’t help thinking that this also depends on the cost of living…

The Funny Things They Say…

Thanks to Wendy for sending this in.

“My friend is in Chicago, childminding her two grandchildren. In America, Halloween is a big celebration. She told us that she put on a witch’s hat that her daughter-in-law had tried on.

“Finn, her grandson, said, ‘Oh no mommy, take it off, you don’t have enough wrinkles!'”

We’d also like to hear about anything funny they’ve done or said. You can email us at moderngran@dctmedia.co.uk.

Children’s Book Of The Week

Wendy also sent this suggestion. We love it too!

I have enjoyed reading the recommended children’s books in your column. As a librarian, there are so many favourite books to recommend, but the Ahlbergs have got to be up there. They are classics. The books contain letters children can take out of an envelope and read what the well-known fairy-tale characters are writing to each other.

If you’d like to recommend a children’s book, old or new, please email us at moderngran@dctmedia.co.uk.

When Do You Have Time To Read?

When do you find time to read? I’m often asked that question. Personally, I like going to bed early on winter nights and reading a couple of chapters before nodding off.

If you’d like to read one of my Penguin family dramas, you might enjoy I LOOKED AWAY about a granny who is looking after her grandson. I’m going to give you a spoiler here by saying that it all ends well…

I LOOKED AWAY is published by Penguin £7.99. Also available on Kindle and eBook.