That'll be the last time

That'll be the last time I go to the home. I had thought of taking another tin of chocolates round before I go but I think I'll leave it as it is now.

I went up to her old room before I left. There is an elderly man there now and he doesn't really like being disturbed and likes to spend a lot of his time in his room. He hasn't much vocalisation left and the little he does speak is in very short repetative sentences.

I didn't stay long because I felt that I was disturbing him. The illness has made him retreat into himself.

I'd been to have a look at the huts. I was going to leave a plaque there when I first donated the money, a bit like a park bench that has been in bought in someone's memory. But I've decided against it.

Quite a few of the residents that I knew are still there. It's great to see people like Margaret looking so content and relaxed. She'd come from another home where she was kept in isolation and she was agressive when she arrived. And she couldn't communicate except, I guess, through that aggression. I saw the change happening daily after she arrived and was given attention and friendship by the staff. She never smiled when she arrived and never spoke. She now speaks and smiles a lot. There's a guy there with an almost identical story but I didn't see the transformation happening day by day, just when I used to visit to see people there, because my relative had died by the time he arrived.

It's an amazing place.