You may wonder what makes a working mum want to climb the highest free-standing mountain in the world.
Please read my story below and you will hopefully get a better understanding of my motivation for undertaking this epic personal challenge.
My mum was diagnosed with Alzheimers at the age of 52 in 2000 and passed away in February 2009 at the age of 60. Seeing her suffer for all those years is the reason why I am doing this challenge to try to raise money in order to help find a cure for this terrible disease.
My mum was a loving, caring woman who loved her family and her job at Marks and Spencer, and a loving wife to her husband, Dennis. In January 2000 I found my mum in our local branch of the Abbey National Bank with a lot of money in her hand not knowing what she wanted to do with it. The lady at the counter was getting very cross with mum so I took her home and explained to my dad what had happened. The next day dad went to the doctors with her; this resulted in us arranging an appointment for her to see a specialist at the nearby private hospital. The same day mum was suspended from work as she could no longer work on the tills and couldn't remember what she was doing.
Mum had an MRI scan and the following week we went back to the hospital, where it was confirmed that mum had dementia. This was a very scary day as we didn't know what to expect. We all went about our daily lives and mum left work and stayed at home. I rang her every day to make sure she was OK but over the next couple of months mum got worse - forgetting who we were at times and not remembering what she had done or where she had been. Dad decided to sell the family home and move to a bungalow, which is something they always spoke about and would do in their retirement. Little did we know what was ahead of us!
They moved house in 2001 and bought a bungalow, which was going to be their last move. Dad still worked but mum was deteriorating and finding it hard to communicate. Dad came home a couple of times to find mum not at home and he had to go out looking for her as she couldn't find her way home. One day dad found mum walking in the country lanes, she was cold and scared with blood running from her shoes where she had been walking for hours on end.
Mum was finally sectioned under the Mental Health Act and stayed in Priority House in Maidstone for six months while she was evaluated. I visited her every day as I worked two minutes away from there and my boss let me leave work early each day to see her. During this time I was pregnant. Luckily, when my son was born mum had been released and sent home with dad, so she could visit me in the hospital. It was not how I imagined this time in my life to be. I had wanted mum to be there at the birth and to be able to help me. All she could do now was look at me with a blank expression, but I did get a smile and this meant the world to me, and dad was there too. A couple of weeks later dad decided to give up work and look after mum full time. We all helped out when we could but dad was a very proud man and insisted he was OK until one day I went in and he looked so sad and depressed and said "I just can't take it any more".
Dad looked after mum for four years at home and I love him for so much for caring for her all that time with no breaks. In November 2006 mum moved into a care home. That was one of hardest decisions as a family we have ever had to make. We all visited her weekly and made sure she wanted for nothing. We had a good relationship with the carers and nurses in the home. We had six-monthly meetings with the care home staff to make sure all was well and to check on how mum was getting on. It was so hard to watch mum deteriorate over the next year - she lost the ability to talk, walk and feed herself.
Sadly, in July 2007 my dad passed away from a sudden heart attack. My brother and I now had the responsibility of making sure mum was cared for properly and we dealt with all mum's appointments, supplying toiletries and clothes and visiting her. I'm not sure if she understood why dad didn't visit her any more but I did explain to her what had happened. I always spoke to mum about what was going on in my life when I visited her and talked about things in general. We bought mum a wheelchair that was made-to-measure and was equipped with everything mum would need on it to make her as comfortable as possible. Over the next year mum had chest infections, bed sores, a couple of mini strokes that resulted in her not being able to use her right hand and teeth problems. It was one thing after another and I felt very sad that she was going through all of this; I wanted so many times to bring her home with me but knew that realistically I couldn't do this with a family at home.
In January 2009 mum was admitted to hospital with pneumonia. When my brother and I turned up at A & E mum looked scared and confused and I just cried. Mum was in hospital for a week and at this time she also lost the ability to swallow. The nurses tried many times to help her, but mum just couldn't swallow. Mum was on a drip for four days and seemed to perk up, but the nurses informed us that there was nothing more they could do except just make her comfortable. We went through all the possible ways of trying to get some fluid/food into her but the doctors advised us that if we tried intervening we would be in the same situation in a couples of weeks' time and mum had been through so much it just wasn't fair to her.
We made the decision to take mum back to the care home, where she could look out over the cricket ground and enjoy the sunshine from her bed and be in surroundings that she knew. The home was very good and cared for mum day and night. They also brought us sandwiches and drinks all through the day and night when we were there. My brother and I took it in turns to stay with mum, neither of us wanting to leave her. Nearly three weeks after mum came out of hospital her breathing became very fast and shallow and she seemed to be in pain every time the nurses moved her so she was given some morphine. On a Wednesday night I sat with mum until nearly eleven o'clock, holding her hand and laying beside her, not sure if I should go or stay. The nurses said they would call if there was any change in her condition so I said goodbye to mum. I will always remember the look in her eyes when I went that night. The following day mum passed away at 11.30 am, just ten minutes before I got there.
This is my story and I am sure mum would be proud of me for taking on this challenge to raise money and awareness about this life-robbing disease.
I hope you will help me raise money for this great cause, the Alzheimer's Society, and sponsor me for this challening trek up Mount Kilimanjaro in June 2010. If you would like to know more about my story or indeed the trek itself, please feel free to e-mail me on michelle@limexb360.co.uk.
Michelle Smith
