A few days ago, I got the news we all knew was coming: my Grandad’s dementia had advanced to the point where Grandma could no longer care for him, and Grandad would have to go into a care home.

*The village in India where Grandma and Grandad lived, circa 1969. Photo by Grandad.*

Grandma and Grandad married in their early twenties, and shortly afterwards moved to India, where they lived in a (very) rural village. Their aim was to learn the local language, with a view to creating the first ever written version. Grandad’s key role was to learn the villagers’ language, while Grandma used her training as a nurse to provide medical treatment to the village residents, who were many miles away from the nearest health centre. Grandma and Grandad then spent nearly three years working on literacy projects in Nepal, before being forced to leave at 6 weeks’ notice due to a sudden change in the government’s policy. Somewhere in the middle of this, they raised three children, who spent their early years being home-schooled in India and later attended schools in Nepal before returning to the UK. After their children had grown up, Grandma and Grandad spent several years working on a major literacy project in Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) until the First Congo War forced them to evacuate. Grandad can no longer write his own name, and yet there are 300,000 people who can read and write thanks to the projects he and Grandma worked on.

Despite (or maybe because of) spending many years living in increasingly volatile areas of the world culminating in being evacuated by the French Foreign Legion, Grandma and Grandad have always had a fairly relaxed approach to things. On one famous occasion, Grandad was told by his doctor that he needed to go to hospital in an ambulance as he was experiencing a major heart issue. Grandad convinced the doctor to let him walk across the street to the hospital instead as it would be quicker; then stopped off for a cup of tea en route. This relaxed attitude stood them in good stead when hiding in a hallway waiting to be evacuated in a civil war, but was less helpful when persuading them to write their Lasting Power of Attorneys (LPAs). As is so often the objection, they felt that they were giving up their autonomy earlier than they needed to by writing their LPAs when they still had capacity. This is a common misconception; in reality, a health and welfare LPA can only ever be used if you have lost mental capacity. A property and finance LPA can be used either as soon as it is registered or only if you lose capacity, depending on your choice.

In the end, this, along with some words of wisdom from my Dad (“none of us knows the day or the hour, and if one of you is diagnosed with something terrible, me turning up at the hospital with LPA papers for you to sign is going to be about as welcome as the undertaker turning up with a tape measure”) eventually convinced my grandparents to write their LPAs. This turned out to be just in time as Grandad was diagnosed with dementia a few months later. As you need to have mental capacity to make an LPA, it would have been extremely difficult for Grandad to create an LPA after he had developed dementia.

Grandma and Grandad have been married for almost 60 years, but an LPA is still needed for Grandma to manage Grandad’s finances and make healthcare decisions for him. Grandma and Grandad’s children also have lasting power of attorney for Grandma and Grandad, meaning that they could step in and make decisions for both of them if Grandma was no longer able to make those choices.

As devastating as the dementia has been, having the LPAs, as well as having had discussions with Grandad about his wishes before he developed dementia, has helped us to make the right decisions for him. I am grateful to my Dad, many years ago, for having had the foresight to sort out the LPAs, as well as to Grandma and Grandad for completing the LPAs. Somehow, this foresight does not extend to my Dad writing his own LPA (“it’s on my to do list, but I’ve got to clear out the spare bedroom and then I’ve got to do my tax return!”). But then, Dad seems to have inherited his parents’ relaxed approach… I’ll save the story about the time he got lost in the Amazon for another blog.