Author: Dementia in the Family
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In denial about dementia
We are all, in some way, in denial about dementia. The person living with it, their family, even society. We brush off early signs, explain them away, or avoid thinking about them altogether. Yet dementia remains, confronting us with fears we’d rather not face.
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Dementia and saunas
After my dad’s dementia diagnosis, brain health became personal. A Finnish study found men who used saunas 4–7 times weekly had a 66% lower risk of dementia. What once felt like indulgence now feels like self-care and prevention – a small, joyful habit that might protect my future.
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Care home visits and old photos
I visit my dad in the care home and sit beside him, showing him photos of my children in their school uniforms. When he reaches for my phone, I swipe to an old album of us together. A picture of him, young and strong, carrying me as a baby, hits me.
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Admiral Nurses
Admiral Nurses provide vital support for families affected by dementia, offering both practical advice and emotional care. Talking to one helped me understand my dad’s needs, navigate visits, and feel less alone.
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What modern life does to our minds
After camping in the calm of a Sussex meadow, returning to London felt like sensory overload. The noise, concrete and pollution make me wonder what modern life does to our brains. With my dad’s dementia in mind, I feel the urgency of protecting my own future health.
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Visiting my father with dementia
“Your teeth look great!” my dad said – the first full sentence in a long time. It landed like a gift. Visiting him in the care home is never easy. Dementia has taken so much, but that small moment of clarity, of kindness, reminded me he’s still here, in glimpses.
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A thank you to Wendy Mitchell for her work on dementia
Wendy Mitchell’s writing offered a powerful, personal insight into life with dementia—illuminating what my father could never express. Her courage, honesty, and warmth helped me better understand his journey. This tribute reflects on what her work meant to me, and why her voice will continue to resonate far beyond her death.
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One step forward, two steps back
Visiting my dad in the care home is a mix of quiet miracles and heartbreak. Dementia shifts constantly – progress one day, confusion the next. He said my name, something I haven’t heard in so long. I carry that small moment with me, even as everything else keeps slipping away.
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Walking, wandering & dementia
When dementia took my father’s ability to walk, it marked the loss of more than movement – it was the end of our shared rambles, his independence, and a lifetime of direction. This reflection traces his journey from avid walker to wheelchair, and the emotional terrain we now navigate as a family.









