17/11/2025
Anne, our manager in Teignmouth, recently received two powerful poems from Carlos — a carer who supports one of the people we work with on and off.
He kindly gave permission for us to share his words, offering a raw and honest insight into the reality of caring for someone living with dementia.
We’re grateful to Carlos for allowing us to share something so personal and meaningful. 💙
“Are you the carer?”
"Are you the carer?" she asked me.
Such a simple question but loaded with SO much meaning.
Won't find them on a CV.
Don't have a job description.
A silent, disconnected army with no voice and little agency;
working behind closed doors and out of sight.
Constant, careful, patient, tireless yet exhausted, purveyor of medicines, chief cook and bottom washer.
Entertainer, invisible companion, bodyguard, psychologist and timekeeper.
So, if courage is the resolve to do well, without the assurance of a happy ending? Then that too.
Some may choose it whilst others have it foisted on them.
"Jobs yours....."
Navigating the impossible labyrinth of dementia with the guidance of true friends and volunteer charities offering temporary respite.
Unconsciously giving yourself to the care is a consummate act of love.
With it comes you remembering what she was like before all this; whilst she forgets who you are.
With it comes the joy of laughter when she realises she's wearing her high heeled boots and fishnet stockings to do the gardening — in November!
“How can we begin to understand?”
“Sorry my wife Wendy has dementia”
I explain for the hundredth time
to those that don’t know or we just met.
Not an explanation, not an excuse.
More like a label people can vaguely comprehend.
How can we begin to understand?
Nothing is obvious, nothing much is apparent.
Forgetting the recipe you used all your life.
Reading the same book three times.
The afternoon naps last 3 hours.
You hate the crashing sound of cutlery on plates.
Walking slower and slower every day,
whilst shuffling your feet.
Can’t tell a w**d from a flower in the garden.
The subtitles on foreign language films are too quick;
so you stop watching.
Not noticing you are wearing
summer clothes in winter; inside out!
How can we begin to understand?
Forgetting how to drive your car.
Forgetting you have a car.
Forgetting dates and time
soon becomes forgetting time altogether.
What year was I born?
How old am I?
How many children do I have?
What are they called?
“Are you my husband or my brother?”
"I want to go home now, please."
Yet a smile, a little touch of the hand,
a brush of the hair on the forehead or a hug — and she’s back again.
All animated smiles and possibilities.
That’s how I try to understand.
