Lights are on, but nobody is home

I am told that giving a eulogy with a friend or loved one lying in the casket next to you, is a very hard thing to do. It is particularly tough when the person involved has been cut down in the prime of their life.

I experienced the closest thing to it at the weekend when I visited my mate Dave in Queen Mary's hospital in Roehampton. Dave, also known as 'Cellnet' Dave or Dodgy, has been diagnosed with early onset dementia and last year was sectioned. he remains in a secure unit at the hospital while they try to find a suitable care home for him. The implications are that he will remain institutionalised for the rest of his life, eight to ten years in a living casket if you will.

Dave was a bit of a lad as we spent our 30 and 40 somethings together alot of the time. A founder member of the Tuesday club, he was regularly  looking for a deal, or chasing a party. We played rugby together, and embraced the social side of the game,  all around the World. His times in Cannes at the telecommunications gala's and his reputation, unfair though it was,  as a short arms, deep pockets merchant were legendary and it was this latter trait which indicated to me that things were not all good in his world.

During my infrequent visits to London it became evident that people were bad mouthing Dave in a way that was not good. He was becoming nomadic and hermit like, and his behaviour in company was getting him into trouble. It is sad that only when his wife sought help to get him into a medical facility that could give him some help that the true nature of his change became evident.

When SWMBO and I visited him it was like walking into a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Initially  he would not see us,  but we stuck it out and some time later the nurse returned with him. He spent twenty minutes or so in the room with us, but it was obvious that he was really somewhere else. his recall of irrelevant facts was accurate, and his awareness of time and local events associated with it meant he left when the evening meal trolley was due. His wife has since indicated that he was aware who we were, which was a comfort.

I suspect he has days when the lights are off and nobody is home, or they are on and somebody is home. This weekend it was a combination of both. I hope I catch him in a better place next time.