Lost

My friend is called Henry Smith nothing unusual about this it’s quite easy to remember until two years ago, in December. Diagnosed with early onset dementia He was sent to see a care provider. A young man with a notepad and pen smart suit and wide friendly grin came to reception and said ‘Hello Fred my name is Charles, thanks for coming today I’m so pleased to meet you.’ Henry quickly replied ‘For a start my name is Henry Smith, I may have dementia, but, I do know my name is Henry.’ ‘Ok, sir I’ll note that down here we’ll treat you with dignity, respect and care that’s what our Value Statement says, right here.’ Henry smiled wryly, discerning how things would later be. Charles promised to write to Henry So, he’ll know what care there would be. Weeks went by. No phone call, email, letter or text explaining what was to happen next Henry was still in the dark and wondering why, back to the care provider went Henry and I Charles greeted us again, notepad in hand smart suit and wide friendly grin ‘Oh, hi there Fred nice to see you again.’ ‘Look, Charles, this is really not on. What if I started calling you John?’ ‘So sorry F fr Henry’ Replied Charles. ‘I’ll write that down here in capital letters here in bright red WANTS TO BE CALLED HENRY NOT FRED we’ll treat you with dignity, respect and care it says so in our Value Statement, right here.’ Sadly, for Henry this was not the end This same scenario became the trend In time, I watched Henry’s daily struggles grow As dementia pilfered away his here and his now erased most of it from his memory though he had retained his own identity These days we enjoy each other’s company conversation is certainly not a necessity. One day as we sat quietly enjoying a cup of tea the telephone rang, which startled us both Henry looked quizzically at me and said ‘I wonder, who could that be?’ a bewildered expression crept across his face as I heard him slowly say ‘Hello!’ ‘Charles?’ ‘Yes, this is Fred.’