Why a Care Home?

Why did I do this?

Why did you open a Home, Jura Care, for people living with Dementia?

Today I also do not know!

Just the other day, rushing a patient to the Emergency of the Clinic, a lady doctor asked me this question again.

Usually I answered the question with the long prepared story, of my grandma having this disease many many years ago ( and us not knowing about such a disease). We took her to a doctor, to find out what is wrong with her. Very politely the doctor told us, that she is old and senile, take her home, buy her a tin of Ensure and bear with it.

So maybe the seed was planted there….

But if I do think back, I remember …..

My poor Mother had to suffer through my Grandma’s strange behavior, many times phoning me in total distress, and telling me she is going to throw my poor Grandma out with all the crazy disruptive stuff she was doing. Even though I was young and more distanced and could not believe that a normal person could do and mean the things she did, my Mother could not see reason. She was too close to the situation, and could not understand that this women, once her Mother, who used to be so exceptionally neat and well groomed, now was a slob. She smelt. She didnt want to change her clothes. She refused to wash her hair.

She threw all her freshly washed linen on the floor to walk on, she fumbled her clothes in small bundles to hide them wherever she could. She pulled out her hair at the nape of her neck, and ate it!

The last straw was when my poor Mom walked into the bathroom, only to find my Grandma, smilingly decorating the walls, the tiles, the basin and herself with her feaces!

My poor Mother could not understand this as she phoned me. Fuming! Because what kind of person will do such a thing to her own daughter? Was she just doing it out of spite, just to tempt and to anger her?

I got there just in time, with my Mom trying to pull a very dirty old lady from the bathroom. The more my Mother pulled her on her frail arms, the more Grandma was swearing. Words came out of her mouth, that I never even knew my Grandma knew! I tried to remember some of them for future use, but the look of disgust on my Mother’s face made me to forget them very quickly.

The day I invited them for a Sunday lunch was the another nightmare. The table was beautifully laid and the food delicious. My mom was so relaxed, sharing the care of my Grandma with someone else. But everything changed when grandma shoved the plate of foodaway from her, toppling over all the glasses, splashing the table cloth with the red of wine.

Mom snapped!

Grandma snapped!

She wanted a sandwich!!! Not this horrible stuff in front of her!!

So she did what she had to do to get rid of it.

And my poor Mom did what she had to do. She broke down in tears through her anger, so embarrassed …..

And now, many years later, I understood my poor Grandmama’s disease. And I do understand my poor Mothers, behavior…

But did I start this business because of that?

I walked out of the ER, the night air cool against my skin, and I thought about the doctor’s question again.

Why did I do this?

Perhaps it was because of my grandmother, her fragile mind lost in the shadows of a disease we barely understood. Perhaps it was because of my mother, who bore the weight of love and frustration in equal measure, unable to separate the woman she once knew from the illness that had taken hold.

Or maybe, it was simply because I saw pain and

knew I could not turn away.

Dementia does not only steal memories; it steals dignity, patience, and sometimes, the very bonds that once held families together. But in its chaos, I have also seen something else—kindness in the smallest gestures, laughter in the unlikeliest moments, and love that refuses to fade, even when names are forgotten.

And so, perhaps the answer is this: I do it because someone must. Because every person deserves to be seen, to be valued, to be cared for—not for who they were, but for who they are, in this moment.