Real stories

'You can stand down now, Dad.' - John's dementia story

My dad was born in 1934 in Suffolk – he left school at 14 and joined my grandad on the fishing boats in the North Sea. It was a very hard life, and from there, he went into the Royal Navy and served for 15 years. He became chief engineer, which he was so proud of. 

I followed a pretty similar path, joining the Royal Marine Commandos. It was the hardest infantry course in the world, and I served for 10 years. But then things started to fall apart when my mum fell ill, and I had to leave the Marines to help care for her.  

The whole experience with Mum meant that, when my dad was diagnosed, I felt prepared.  

Signs of dementia were already on the horizon

I first suspected dad had dementia when he couldn’t remember dates, but soon there were other signs something wasn’t right. He’d always been a good cook: “Let’s have some scran,” he’d say, and he would make us a slap-up meal. Then he lost his sense of timing and the meals went downhill until he couldn’t manage at all.

Dad never drank or smoked but he treated himself to cars! So when his driving became erratic, I had to tell him. He listened, he trusted me, and we agreed we’d go to the doctors.  

Dad took a memory test in 2017 which he failed completely – within about six weeks he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

He couldn’t grasp the enormity of it. The consultant explained things to him, but the dementia didn’t faze him. I knew he couldn’t understand it, and in a way, that was almost easier and kinder. But it affected me.

People underestimate what carers go through

I felt for my dad, and I knew what was ahead. I knew I had to move in, and I could lose my job, but I couldn’t let him down.

At first, dad could still move around, but when he became immobile I needed help. Finding and funding good carers was hard, but my GP referred me to Alzheimer’s Society.

Honestly, meeting Sarra, our dementia adviser, transformed my life. It can be a lonely, stressful place looking after someone. But Sarra made life easier. Her professional and emotional support was worth its weight in gold.

Dad didn’t want to go into a care home, and I was happy to look after him as long as he wasn’t in danger and social services were happy.

Providing care was like a military operation

I was regimented and organised, and it stood me in good stead as caring is tough. Then, during lockdown in 2020, my PTSD counselling stopped. I was devastated, and thought, “If I go under, I can’t look after my dad.”  

But Alzheimer’s Society cares for the carers too. Sarra helped me manage my stress, ease the loneliness and gave me practical advice to solve the problems I faced.

Eventually my dad stopped eating and drinking. I asked the doctor about it, understanding we were near the end. Back at home, I spoke to my dad and used a military term, “Dad, don’t fight any more. I am giving you the order to stand down.” I think he’d been waiting for me to say it.  

My dad passed away peacefully on 5th October 2023.

When you care for someone it’s a lonely place. You think you are on your own, but the Alzheimer’s Society backs you up. I still feel lonely sometimes, that’s just part of the grief. But the Society is always in my corner, and they’re always there.