Carers for dementia sufferers know that sometimes caring for your parent can feel bleak and overwhelming.
But remember to pause and find the glimmers in the midst of the storm.
There's always beauty to be found.
I will never forget the unexpected kindness I found on one of the worst days during one of Mum's worst hospital stays.
I was 8.5 months pregnant with my second child. My sister and I had been taking turns to sit by the bedside each day. We were 5 weeks in and Mum hovered between life and death, semi-conscious.
The Drs had just convened a family meeting and we called my sister into the conversation by phone. She and I had just agreed to stop supportive treatment.
I left the ward in a daze and found the adjacent waiting room. It was deserted and as I sat down the emotional defences I'd been holding onto for months shattered.
I closed my eyes, buried my face in my hands and cried. I made almost no sound, except for my heaving breaths. I was oblivious to everything around me except my own grief.
I was undone, unmasked and unmoored.
After some time, I felt a hand press firmly but gently on my shoulder. I could offer nothing, my body and mind not yet able to return. The hand stayed and asked for nothing. No words were spoken. No gentle urging that it would be OK or that I would be fine.
The hand remained. Steady and calm with its gentle assured pressure. Gradually I felt myself return. My breaths started to ease. Still I could not move my hands from my face.
Many minutes passed. Once my breath was steady I felt the hand leave.
When I was strong enough to move my hands from my face and open my eyes, I saw the room was once again deserted. The stranger had gentled my heart and soul and asked for nothing in return. No acknowledgment, no gratitude.
That was the glimmer and the gold on that very dark day. And I remain eternally grateful.
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