Non Compos Mentis - Dementia

Dementia, or Alzheimer's made itself known to me when I was about seventeen years old. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but this is probably due to my memory looking back over thirtyfive years, and my interests at the time being music, girls, psychedelics and animal welfare, rather than the slow decline of a person's mental health.

I lived on a council estate where everybody knew each other - it was a bit like Under Milk Wood -  where everybody's door was open to the neighbours at any time. My family consisted of my nain, taid (grandparents), mum, dad and my older brother. There always seemed to be relatives and friends in the house visiting my nain and taid, chattering away in Welsh, from which I used to grasp bits of what they said when interspersed with english.

I would lie on the floor watching the pipe and cigarette smoke spiral through the beams of sunlight that poured through the window. The women would be sat bolt upright, wearing dead foxs about their necks; legs draped down one side and a foxs head down the other. While thinking about the people who would visit, a face loomed up out of the past and her name was Auntie Enid. She looked on edge most of the time, but people would, after all they had gone through two world wars and lost their brothers, sisters and partners. What struck me was the look in her eyes, they were black, wide and lost. Like the blackness of space absorbing what was left of the light. This is a look that I have seen in other's, a look of anxiety, fear, confusion and disorientation. Auntie Enid may not have been suffering from dementia but, there was something about that look. This brings me to my first experience with full blown dementia when I was seventeen.

Mrs Jones was a widow who lived across the way and was very close to my nain, along with the other neighbours, who had all moved into the street after the 1st World War. They would converge in the street or in each other's houses, a la Under Milk Wood, and chat away, putting the world to rights. She was very friendly, even though young people with mohicans and spiky hair would visit our house, which, to older people at the time, would have been like the devil's from hell making a visit to Walton Crescent.

At first I didn't think much of Mrs Jones popping round to see my nain more than usual but, it seemed to me, all of a sudden, she would knock the door and ask for the time, which is fine. Then it began. First thing in the morning knocking on the door 'Mrs Griffiths Faint o'r gloch ydy hi? What time is it? A couple of hours later, the same, until it became every half an hour. I could see the strain and upset in my nain and taids face as each in turn helped her back to her house. This went on for some time until Mrs Jones disappeared and I was told she had died. What I do remember is that wide eyed look of confusion, disorientation and anxiety. Those eyes that where once full of personality and spirit had now just the faintest traces of the person we knew. Into the blackness she had drifted.

Moving forward a couple of years and dementia had started to manifest itself within my nain, who was in her eighties when the first signs appeared. The signs could have appeared earlier, but I was rarely in the house, being at that age when time spent with friends filled all my free time, which was a lot when drawing the dole.

I have a recollection at the time of being upset enough by what I saw to put it down in writing during my failed attempt at an access course in humanities. Unfortunately I'm left with little memory of nains condition, apart that is, of her slowly becoming more frail and childlike. It was easy to make her laugh, but she was now becoming more bad tempered and confused. She would forget where she was and what she was doing and if it wasn't for my mum being available most of the time, nain would have had to go into a home. I have two abiding memories from this period; the one that stands out is that nain used to have moments of lucidity when she became conscious of the fact that she was losing herself and she would cry. I had never seen this strong but kind woman cry before. It was shocking to see somebody go from non compos mentis to compos mentis and back again. That's when I realised how terrifying this disease is. The other memory came via my mum, who told me that nain had become violent and would attack my taid in the night, which must have been scary for mum to deal with.

Soon after taid broke his hip and ended up in a home, where he was happy and would sing Welsh hymns for the staff  - he always had his faculties - and where he soon after died. Not long after nain ended up in the same home, where she struggled with dementia until the end. Before she died she met her great granddaughter Poppy. We have a special photo of nain with Poppy and she has a big bright smile on her face.