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Privacy NoticeAt present, it’s estimated that 900,000 people in the UK are living with dementia and in the future one in three lives will be affected by the condition. Here, OK! speaks to two women about the sense of repeated loss they felt when their loved ones developed dementia and the devastating impact that this had on them. Solicitor Chelsea Shore, 28, is from Nuneaton near Coventry. Her great-grandmother, Violet, was diagnosed with dementia in 2018… “From the moment I was born, my great-grandmother Violet and I were close. She lived two streets away from us in Nuneaton and as a child I’d often cycle over to her house.
Chelsea Shore’s great grandmother, Violet, was diagnosed with dementia in 2018
(Image: Chelsea Shore)
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I loved our Friday night sleepovers, when she’d teach me how to bake butterfly cakes or arts and crafts. There might have been 65 years between us, but she was my best mate, and when I grew up I’d take her for fish and chips every Saturday. She always gave such great advice, whether it was about boyfriends or my career. At first, we put Granny Vi’s memory lapses down to old age, but in 2018 she was diagnosed with dementia, after suffering a seizure. When I heard the news, I was utterly devastated. We were so close and I just couldn’t bear the thought that one day she wouldn’t know who I was. Over the following months, she became more forgetful. “I’m all over the place,” she’d say and her beloved books and puzzles became a source of frustration because she couldn’t process the words. Then, one day I walked into her house and found it boiling hot because she’d forgotten to turn off the oven. She loved baking, but we had to disconnect the cooker. It just wasn’t safe. I tried desperately to help Granny Vi hold on to her memory. I visited four times a week, swapping her puzzles for brightly-coloured children’s versions. We tackled dementia-friendly word searches and I bought her a kids’ oven with an automatic timer. We’d bake jam tarts and it was such a joy to cook together again.
At first Chelsea put Granny Vi’s “memory lapses down to old age”
(Image: Chelsea Shore)
I also created an Instagram account, @chelsandvi, where I posted regularly about our experience. We built up a community and it was comforting to know that my updates were helping others. But, despite everything, dementia took its toll and Granny Vi became a shell of herself. She lost the motivation to go out and she started forgetting people too. To help, I made photo albums with labels next to each picture and we’d flick through them together. “I’m ready to go,” she’d tell me as she became sicker, but I wasn’t ready to lose her. Then, in the summer of 2021, Granny Vi’s condition plummeted, after she fell and fractured her hip. She was admitted to a nursing home and kept asking, “Where am I?” again and again. Then, one day, I was sitting by her bedside when she looked at me and asked, “Who is she? Why is she crying?” I was lucky she hadn’t forgotten me sooner, but it didn’t hurt any less. That September, I got a call at 5am to say that Granny Vi had passed away. She was 91. Afterwards, I completely broke down and my head felt fuzzy, as though I’d been drinking. I wasn’t expecting to be knocked for six because we’d known it was coming, but the following months were incredibly tough. To make things even worse, my grandad, Tony, 79, was then diagnosed with dementia too.
Chelsea’s grandad has also been diagnosed with dementia
(Image: Chelsea Shore)
I’m slowly watching his personality being chipped away at. It’s like he’s in a locked room and there’s nothing I can do. I’ve bought him some goldfish though, so he feels he has something to get up for in the morning and he’s managing to keep them alive. It’s now three years since Granny Vi died and I still struggle to talk about her. One thing that gives me consolation is living in her house – I bought it after she passed away. I’ve planted a memory garden out the back and I’ve kept her knickknacks, like her favourite china tea cups. Living here was hard at first because of all the memories, but now it helps me feel closer to her. With dementia, people say you lose someone before you lose them and that’s so true. It’s like your heart breaks over and over, because you grieve each time your loved one slips a little further away. You gradually lose the person you’ve known your whole life, then you physically lose them too.” Dad lost his passions Angela O’Neill, 47, lives in Loughborough. her father, Mike, died from dementia last year…
Angela O’Neill’s father, Mike, died from dementia last year
(Image: Angela O’Neill)
“When Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in August 2017, he was 66. He’d always been so capable, but suddenly I noticed he was struggling with simple tasks, like measuring up for my new bike shed. He couldn’t remember the numbers, then he forgot his well-trodden route to B&Q. Dad was so kind, with a silly sense of humour, and his diagnosis hit us hard. He tried to play his illness down, but he quickly stopped doing anything he found challenging, whether that was DIY, cooking or managing the finances. He lost his inhibitions too – he’d always been very shy, but he’d wander up to strangers and start asking them questions. The hardest thing was that he lost his love of Liverpool FC, which had brought him so much joy. He’d always known every fact, player, goal and score, but his lifelong passion died with his diagnosis. He struggled to follow the game and stopped caring who or when they were playing.
Angela says her dad was “so kind, with a silly sense of humour”
(Image: Angela O’Neill)
Watching Dad’s slow decline was devastating, but thankfully my job gave me something positive to focus on. I work as a Singing For the Brain leader for Alzheimer’s Society, using the power of music to help people affected by dementia. In 2018, I also became the musical assistant for BBC series Our Dementia Choir. It involved working with actress Vicky McClure, who knows only too well how cruel the disease is, having lost her grandma in 2015. It was such a supportive crowd and I confided in Vicky about what I was going through.
Angela was a musical assistant for BBC series Our Dementia Choir
(Image: Angela O’Neill)
Dad wasn’t involved in the TV show, but I’d play him music too. As a Liverpool lad, he loved The Beatles, so I’d often put on his favourite song, Love Me Do. Even when he couldn’t remember the words, he’d perk up when he heard the tune. But in 2022, Dad’s heart began to suffer. He spent three months in and out of hospital and, by the time he emerged, he was a shadow of himself. He’d lost so much weight and found being around people stressful, so he’d sit in his room for hours looking out of the window. His death last year left us all heartbroken. But while dementia took away many of his passions, we wove them throughout his funeral. We played Love Me Do and, as the curtains closed around his coffin, we played Liverpool anthem You’ll Never Walk Alone. Dementia may have stolen his passions, but they were with him at the end.” Alzheimer’s Society offers support to people through the hardest, most frightening times. Visit alzheimers.org.uk or phone the Dementia Support Line on 0333 150 3456Story SavedYou can find this story in My Bookmarks.Or by navigating to the user icon in the top right.Follow OK! MagazineFacebookTwitterCommentMore OnReal LifeHealth
