Tuesday 8 May 2012

The poetry of dementia (1)

My Danish stepdad is (gently) forgetting his English as his dementia progresses and  last night he, quite fabulously, referred to fish fingers as 'fish pins'.  Lamp posts are now 'light poles' and lifeguards are 'sea rangers'. My mum has been ill and  as we waited for her having out-patient tests yesterday, he said: 'She is no ordinary, everyday human being of any kind, she is my wife.' Tautological, but wonderful (and heartbreaking). Later, my mum and I were chatting about how she is never  ill - the only times she recalls are malaria when she took us to Pakistan in seventies; having to have a salmon bone removed by general anaesthetic during a trip to Finland in nineties, and, more recently, a slipped disc. My stepdad turned to us and said: What's that about Ed Miliband? 

'Salmon bone in Finland' heard as Ed Miliband: the poetry of dementia.

4 comments:

Crafty Green Poet said...

the sadness of dementia, that one would remember politicians you might prefer to forget and forget your own language. Heartbreaking, but there is certainly poetry in there too.

Kate said...

Beautifully said and beautifully written.

Mellifluous Dark said...

Sorry to hear you are going through this. Your stepdad sounds like a fantastic person and he remains a poet despite his illness. Moving post, NMJ.
x

Mim said...

If only your step dad stayed at this stage . . .

It is poetry: the brain finding substitute words, metaphors.