About Me - navigating the never-ending journey of keeping my loved one, who has dementia, safe from halfway across the world.
I’m a caregiver for my mum who has been living with dementia for nearly seven years. I’ve been caring for her from afar throughout this time.
Being a caregiver of a person with dementia isn’t a "club" I ever expected—or wanted—to join, but here I am.
My mother lives in the UK, and I spend a lot of time in the USA. I’ve managed her care remotely for over seven years now.
I created this website to document my journey and to help others navigate the very challenging and lonely path of caring for someone with dementia. I created it so we can help each other.
Caregiving from afar isn't just about living in another country. It's for anyone who can't simply pop in every day. Whether you're 10 minutes away, an hour away, or halfway across the world, life doesn't stop because someone you love develops dementia. Many of us have jobs, families, children, or other responsibilities. Too often, it feels like the only option is to put your own life on hold. It doesn't have to be.
I have struggled—and continue to do so. It’s a long, lonely, brutal road being a caregiver. There was no support for long-distance caregiving—no help from healthcare or government, and no forums focused on it. I was on my own, with no support from those around me. People told me it wasn’t possible, but I refused to accept that. Many suggested I move closer or "back", give up my job and just "suck it up" because it was my duty.
I researched and researched. I called Age Scotland, Alzheimer's Scotland, the NHS... and, and, and... nothing.
"Oh, it's never been done," they would say.
Every corner I turned was a brick wall. No steps forward at all—just backwards. People just couldn't, or wouldn't, understand my questions or how caregiving from afar could possibly work.
What I've realised is that unless you're going through this yourself, you're just not going to get it.
Here's the thing with me. The more you tell me I can't do something, that it's impossible - the more I will make it happen.
Sit back and watch and move heaven and earth to make tit happen!
And I did.
I had to accept the challenge of keeping her at home—safe, comfortable and independent. It’s not easy. When it works, it’s brilliant. When it doesn’t, I collapse, sob uncontrollably, lose hope and question everything. Then I pick myself up and get ready to fight again.
Dementia is difficult. Usually, your loved one doesn't realise they have it and believes they can still manage on their own. That was one of my biggest challenges. I couldn't suddenly take things away or make lots of changes overnight. Instead, I had to introduce them gradually in a way that kept my mum safe without making her feel she was losing her independence.
Long before dementia, I slowly introduced one new gadget every time I came home, usually accompanied by plenty of eye-rolling from everyone around me. I understood—it was all new to them. About 20 years ago I introduced a simple jar opener with a grip. Mum loved it and used it all the time. Soon everyone else was asking, "Where did you get this?" Then I installed pull-out drawers to more "ooohs" and "ahhs." Mum was in her 80s, and I simply wanted to make life easier for her. So I kept going.
Caring is difficult, and caring from afar is even more so, but gadgets and technology can help. From simple phone adjustments to voice-activated devices, I can suggest ways to help your loved one remain independent at home. It really can be manageable with the right resources and technology, even if you're not tech-savvy.
Gadgets made our life easier. They allowed me to stay connected and feel that ma was safe.
Please bear in mind that all of these purchases were made over the course of four years. There was a lot of trial and error. I tried different products, saw what worked, and made adjustments when they stopped working. My goal was always the same: to keep my mum safe, comfortable and living in her own home for as long as possible.
My constant back-and-forth trips between the US and the UK were incredibly stressful. I can't stress enough how many times I flew halfway across the world just to fix an Alexa, repair a video portal, sort out a timer (yes, a timer), or arrange a doctor's appointment.
Trying to do all of that from overseas meant endless phone calls, long waiting times and constantly trying to convince local doctors to work with me. That's a whole other battle.
I'm sure you've heard it a dozen times: "You have to take care of yourself."
Great... thanks. But how exactly do I do that?
There's rarely any follow-up to that advice. Have you noticed?
Those who have cared for someone with dementia—or are caring for someone now—will completely understand what I'm trying to achieve. I've often heard, "I'm 300 miles away. How do I make sure my loved one is okay?" I show them this website, and suddenly it starts to make sense.
Then there are the questions from people who haven't experienced dementia.
"But why the red toilet seat?"
"I don't understand—why can't they tell the time if it's right there?"
"It seems like overkill."
"I just don't see it working."
...and on and on.
It's also about giving caregivers a chance to breathe—which, as you probably know, is incredibly difficult when you feel like you're stuck in quicksand.
All the technology and gadgets I've introduced have helped us stay connected. They're also invaluable while you're waiting for carers, social services or simply trying to feel close, no matter how many miles separate you.
I don't have medical advice or a degree in medicine (and I don't need one to care!), but I am an expert in taking care of my loved one from a long distance.
If there's one tip here that helps you—brilliant.
If there's more than one, even better.
If you've found yourself nodding along while reading this, I've put together everything I learned over the past seven years in one place. If you're wondering where to start, take a look at How I Can Help.