Detail. Develop an eye for it. Last week, two cups clattered off that tray. One hit a solid object on the way down and shattered. The other hit solid bouncy carpet and stayed whole.
Or so I thought.
My cup died a death. No big deal. If someone with dementia sees a problem and there's no one else there to observe the same problem, does that problem actually go unnoticed?
Because, well, you know, the person with dementia may be distracted of a sudden, and go off to deal with other things.
Which is why you, as the carer, really have to exercise that eye for detail.
I poured orange juice into the cup that survived. At the base of the handle, there was a tiny chip. What's that? Wasn't there before. This was the cup that fell.
Detail.
I looked closer. And I tested the handle. Sure enough, the whole handle was halfway to coming off. A crack ran through the material. I checked for further damage.
The faintest fissure soared from the cup's depths. It reached to the lip. Well, that was that. The cup had to go. A person with dementia might see that and think of other things.
Health and safety. Don't slash the fuck out of your own lip, by putting the cracked lip of a dead cup to your face.
Throwing cups? In the bin, where else.
Detail.
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