Son writes novel on extraordinary experience caring for ailing mother after dementia diagnosis
George Hodgman was confronted with a life-changing decision when returning home for mother's 91st birthday
Shocked by Betty’s ailing health and the realisation she had dementia, George put his own plans on hold to become her carer until the end.
As Betty’s mind fragmented, George, from Missouri in America, rose to the challenges of caring for someone in the grip of dementia.
George, 56, a former magazine editor and publisher, found strength he didn’t know he had and somehow — despite his awful cooking and sometimes short temper — the pair were just what each other needed.
Inspired by his experiences, George has penned Bettyville, which has become a word-of-mouth phenomenon.
The memoir documents Betty’s final months as George stands by her side. It’s an honest account of dementia, understanding and acceptance — and, ultimately, loss.
In this special edited extract from Bettyville, George talks about caring for his mother and how, by losing her, he finally found himself.
My mother couldn’t live alone, but vetoed all conventional alternatives. I pretended to be in control.“Don’t put me in a place with a lot of old people,” she said.
There were days I couldn’t please her, but I knew deep down that her crankiness was an act, a way to conceal her embarrassment at having to ask anything of anyone.
Some days she would swing between being just about fine, barking orders at our cleaning lady, sharp enough to play bridge with her longtime partners.
Other times, she was a lost girl with sad eyes. I was scared I would be the one to break her. I wasn’t certain what I would wake up to.
One day I discovered her trying to put her sock on over her shoe.
HOW YOU CAN AVOID IT
TO reduce your risk of developing dementia, the NHS guidelines are:
Eat a healthy, balanced diet.
Maintain a healthy weight.
Exercise regularly.
Don’t drink too much alcohol.
If you smoke, stop.
Keep your blood pressure at a healthy level.
If you need practical help for someone who has dementia – or you simply want to talk to someone who understands what you are going through – contact the Dementia Helpline on 0300 222 1122.
There is a wealth of information at .
My mother was scared but would not speak of her fears — they were locked up tight. She kept her secrets. I kept mine. That was our way; we struggled with words.
I imagined anything that would make her a little happier. I knew that her days were numbered in the house, built by my father.
I polished the silver, fixed her meals, bought her new bracelets, left Peppermint Patties under her pillow, drove her to her battalion of doctors.
Her days were filled with little hurts. She bruised easily in the end and was petrified of falling. It is what she feared above all.
It became hard to get my mother excited about anything, even going to the city.
A few years back, when I took Betty into St Louis for the periodontist, we stopped at Saks department store where I wanted to buy her a new outfit.
Spotting the Signs
ACCORDING to the Alzheimer’s Association, there are ten signs to look out for:
1. Memory loss that disrupts daily life.
2. Difficulty planning or solving problems.
3. Difficulty completing familiar home tasks.
4. Confusion with times or places.
5. Trouble understanding visual images and spatial relationships.
6. Problems with speaking or writing.
7. Misplacing things and losing the ability to retrace your steps.
8. Poor judgement.
9. Withdrawal from work or social activities.
10. Changes in mood and personality.
It was there that I noticed the depression that had settled into her, her lethargy. She looked tired and was unable to summon the energy to shop for new clothes.
I found it terribly difficult when my mother was sad, angry with herself, tired of trying, even living.
I found it physically exhausting and challenging even in terms of small things like remembering when all her appointments were or when she took what pill.
But it was the depression I felt when she was depressed that almost slayed me, the pain she felt that I could not control that sent me to bed myself, unable to face her.
I came to the point where I had to be satisfied if I could find one thing each day — a fancy dessert, a ride to a pretty place, a little gift — that made her smile.
Sometimes, out of nowhere though, I could see the little girl my mother once was in her eyes. She was funny and sweet, bossy and mischievous.
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She worried that after she died, I — a man alone — would go untended. I tried my best to show her I am OK.
I reminded her of all the things she did, said time and again that whatever happens, I will never forget the things she did for me. But it never quite seemed to sink in.
There have been so many Bettys. But I think I liked that one the best — the old lady in the flannel gown and slippers. She tried so hard.
She was my rock and I am convinced that, at some level, she survived long enough to give me — a gay man whose life she has never understood — a place to call home.
Bettyville by George Hodgman (Two Roads, £9.99) is out now.