I must stop running.

I have been running for eight years.Eight years.I own houses but I do not have a home.
I buy clothes and shoes and bags and often I give them away before I  use anything.
I have everything and I have nothing.

Gypsies,Tramps and Thieves.

Shortly after my husband was admitted to the Adult mental health unit I was approached by one of the nurses and asked to bring some casual clothes for him. What he wears ARE his casual clothes,I said. I mean some gym wear like that and she pointed to what some male patients were wearing. No,he does not have anything like that,but I can always buy something.And I did. The next day I went to my local M&S and bought two sets of trousers and tops.I marked them with his name,washed both sets,as I always do everything new before it is worn, and took it to the hospital.Three days later the clothes disappeared never to be seen again - the trousers and the top he wore for two days never made it back to him from the laundry room and the unworn clothes he had in his wardrobe were also stolen. The travel card he insisted on keeping "in case he wanted to go home and I was not there to take him" also vanished as did a £20 note and some coins he wanted "to buy newspaper with".[He was an avid reader,several daily newspapers were a part of his and my life from the day we met]I had the presence of mind to replace his set of keys with some old ones..These went too,never to be seen again.After several weeks Olly was moved to a room further back.One day a student nurse ran into his room when she saw him walking into the communal area.I followed him several seconds later.The nurse did not know me. I was puzzled why she would be going into his room, the daily temperature,etc,had been taken, the room had been cleaned,sheets changed,so I turned back and walked in the room.She was startled and lost for words and I decided to let it go. But I had no doubt whatsoever that the girl was a thief and went there to rifle through my husband's belongings.

And so he danced.

The hospital had organized a party for the patients. Decorations.Food.Music.White shirt,greyish blue v neck sweater,his favourite, I still treasure it,grey trousers.And he was ready. A lovely social worker whom I had noticed on several occasions being kind to every-one,no raised voice,no barely concealed irritability in gestures, approached my husband,smiling.He looked at me and mouthed excitedly - she wants to dance with me,can I? I nodded. And they danced.His size eleven and a half shoes shuffling to the right,shuffling to the left,shuffling every which way.His head high,looking about like a preening peacock.So proud.I could not take my eyes off of them.My husband,the man I had loved for so long and fought so hard not to hate, for a few moments was made to feel like a human being again, like every-one else,like a man that he once was,handsome,kind face,brilliant mind.The lovely creature was gently guiding him,never letting the smile leave her face even when he stood on her feet.The English rose,the salt of the earth. I have never thanked her. But then,watching them on the dance floor,I did not know that in the years to come there would only be very few people like her infinitely kind to my husband. Very few in the multitude of medical professionals I had to deal with. No,I did not know it then.But I know it now and now I want to say to her - thank you.

The Court of Protection

was brought into existence by a Labour government.Human life had come to mean nothing under the rotten to the core Labour governments,yet they thought themselves fit to introduce this greatest perversion of justice.Court of Protection?The most inhuman utterly senseless,remorseless government body that has ever come into existence.Decisions were made about my husband,about myself and I was forbidden to be in Court when they were made.I was not allowed to have any say in absolutely anything. I asked countless times to be present.Every time I was refused. And I paid dearly when I asked.I paid dearly when I was refused.

The Power of Attorney.

The rule of the thumb is, that if you know what it is, you can grant it.This had to be done in a solicitor's office.I found a local firm specialising in family law.The first day my husband was in one of his good moods, we went. Do you know what the power of attorney is, asked the female solicitor my husband. Yes.It is when you give the power to someone to do everything for you. He knows what it is, but because he has dementia,it would not be acceptable,said the lawyer. This did not make any sense to me, I should have argued but to my great shame and regret,I did not.She was a solicitor,she knew best,I convinced myself. So a nightmare of gargantuan proportions had begun. Nightmare,as I came to realize, would only end if my husband dies.Or if I die. Two or three months after the first visit the the solicitor's office ,

the lady,a partner in the firm,had retired and went to live in Spain. My case was taken over by a young man

barely out of school. He could not find any paperwork, he was not familiar with the law.Having already paid the woman a substantial amount of money, if I changed the lawyer I would lose everything.And would anyone else be any better? I stayed.

The list of the nursing homes was long

and comprehensive.It covered the whole of London and the home counties.I wanted the best for my husband,but somewhere near where I could visit every day.The nursing home affiliated with the hospital was full and there was not a chance of a place for my husband for several months.I was told to look elsewhere.The pleasant home several minutes away did not accept any-one who needed 24 hour care.[I forgot this rule and about two years down the line when I so badly needed for someone to take care of my husband just for one week, they refused.They refused even when I offered to pay for the extra staff for the week].The second choice had similar conditions.[But became my refuge and my friend when I needed it most.But I am getting ahead of myself]. I made several appointments.Some nursing homes I didn't even go inside once I came to the front door.After one such appointment I kept yet didn't keep, I had a phone call and an irritated female voice asked me if I was coming.I was there earlier,I said.I opened the door and the stench of urine was overpowering.I left.The phone was slammed down. I begged the hospital to allow my husband to stay there until a room becomes available in the affiliated nursing home. The doctor could see that I visited my husband daily and understood my wish to have him where this would continue and so he was allowed to stay.

One day

when I came in, there were two doctors and a nurse waiting for me. He was quiet this morning, we took the advantage and he had a brain scan.The damage is considerable. He has Alzheimer's.There are no drugs available that can treat this,nothing can help him.He has to be placed in a home that cares for people like him. No,no,absolutely not.I want him home.I am taking him home. We cannot allow this.We have a duty of care towards you. We have the report from the doctor who had diagnosed him with dementia.She describes in detail the injuries and bruises on your body.Then there his his GP's report and the report of the two psychiatrists who agreed he is a danger to you and must be sectioned without delay. Maybe now he has realized that if he hits me he will be taken away,he will stop doing it. No, you know he won't.It will get worse and worse.And he is too strong as it is and when he gets angry he gets stronger,one day he may kill you.There is a small chance that in a year or two or three the front lobe of the brain will kind of burn itself out and the violence may subside,it has happened, but it is a long way off and there is no guarantee this will happen. He can not go back home now. There are two things you must do - decide what nursing home to place him in and sort out a Lasting power of attorney.We will help you with the nursing home, you must see a solicitor about the LPOA. Can I go home now, said my husband when he saw me.I have been good, the doctor said I have been good. I want to go,let's go home now, and he pulled me towards the door. When I closed the hospital door behind me,I set down on the steps.I do not remember how long I was sitting there.When I felt I had enough strength to walk I set off for home.But I could not walk and waited for a taxi.A young black driver looked at me and said in a gentle quiet voice - you have been visiting someone in the mental hospital. I remember opening my mouth but no words came out,only sobs and loud wailing of an injured animal.The taxi didn't move.