July - 2021

She Ain't Heavy, She's My Mother

Jane

Jul 18, 2021

Where are the nappies?

28.11.20 I bring mum her breakfast. She doesn’t want to eat porridge anymore, so instead, I give her a toast with p-nut butter and jam cut into strips (the strips make it easier for her to eat with her one front tooth). I notice that the toilet’s stuffed full of toilet paper and her pants are hanging on the toilet bar, soaking wet. I start to have an uneasy feeling that she’s taken off her nappies again and the whole bed, with all its layers, is pished. While she’s enjoying h

Mum is 97 or maybe 98, according to the Lodz Ghetto records. Till now, she has lived a rich and vibrant life, despite living through the war and its aftermath. In 2017, after dad died, she made the decision to move in with me. Instead of feeling burdened, I embraced the change and the opportunity to care for her.

These posts capture mum’s precious last years living with me in my home - a ‘share home’ - with other family members and housemates - who all support, appreciate and love having her around.

Many of us are not familiar or get a chance to be involved in the lives of the very old. I wanted to documents the years with mum as a record for the generations to come, (and others who might be interested) that reveal the daily joys and challenges of caring for a loved one with dementia.

As an afterthought, we know that mum hasn’t always been old. In these posts I also aim to include the heart-felt and awe inspiring stories from her earlier years.

MY PERFECT MAN

My Man in Melbourne

An Ode to a Human Painting Machine

Ketubot/Marriage Contracts

An Ode to a Human Painting Machine

janeKormanART

She Ain't Heavy, She's My Mother