My mother gets endless summons from NHS outposts. There’s the diabetic clinic, the audiology clinic, the podiatric clinic. We dutifully take her but often they don’t know who she is or why she’s there. By comparison, trips to the psychogeriatric unit, the supposed controlling intelligence of her care, are pretty good. The consultant, who is Iraqi and looks like a short Peter Sellers, once visited her flat. Now she calls him “my friend Al Jazeera”.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2007/may/26/familyandrelationships.family5

My mother has been away staying with my sister. For the first few days I feel disoriented, as if there’s something I should be remembering but can’t. Gradually, the feeling fades. I am letting go of all that extra memory capacity I need to compensate for what she’s lost. More immediately, I can abandon the search for what she calls her “zapper” – the TV remote control.

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2007/may/12/familyandrelationships.family10