DEMENTIA CARE: FIRE ALARMS AND E-MAIL.

What do you need to know about fire alarms? You all have them by now, I hope. They should feature carbon monoxide monitors as well. It isn’t enough to have them. Maintain them. Test them. Maintenance isn’t testing. Testing is a form of maintenance.
   I’ve known people who were confused about this. Maintenance is a check-up on an annual basis. Is that enough? Keep an eye on the alarms every six months or so. These machines often tell you when the battery is low – if they are powered by batteries and not the mains.
   Replace the batteries when this happens. Isn’t it irritating when the alarm beeps periodically to tell you the battery is done? Yes. So replace the spent cell. And replace the batteries after a set time anyway. Have a store of batteries handy. Keep a battery tester handy.
   Organise your ability to survive a fire.
   I remember being on an internet call with a smoke alarm going off, telling everyone the battery died. There was a second call, after a week. Same problem. I like to think the caller died in a fire. Harsh. But if you aren’t going to look after your safety in one easy move…you’ll never look after your safety by making a complex one.
   Failed battery sounds are irritating for a reason.
   Testing is a form of maintenance. But annual maintenance is not testing. Test weekly, not annually. I was shocked to discover a person thought these alarms had to be tested annually. They must be maintained annually at a bare minimum. But test the alarms weekly.
   After testing, they may alert you that the battery is done…in a way that they wouldn’t do for months otherwise, if left alone. So testing is a form of maintenance. Test weekly.
   The other week, I decided to replace two of the battery alarms. There are mains-powered fire alarms, carbon monoxide monitors, and even a temperature monitor for the kitchen – all provided by the local authority. But I’ve added battery alarms for bedrooms that aren’t covered by the mains.
   And it was a bedroom fire that I dealt with, that time…so it was a good idea to add coverage in a room occupied by a dementia sufferer.
   Yesterday, with new products delivered, I replaced two alarms. One is supposed to warn me when it is dead. I lost track of adding it to the house. The date on it, concealed from easy view unless removed from the ceiling, told me it was a year beyond its dead-by date.
   No warning chirp to tell me it was on the way out. I tested it 52 times beyond its last call. And it still worked. The batteries were always fresh. A small detail I missed. This happens when you replace alarms at different times. That one fell through the cracks. But there are plenty of alarms in place, to provide warning.
   Defend in depth, breadth, width, and scope.
   The mains alarms beep and chirp. But these battery alarms speak of fire. It’s good to have different alarms across the house, with alternative sounds. You can tell where the alarm is going off by the sound of it. A spoken voice narrows the fire to an upstairs bedroom.
   Those mains alarms are synchronised. One goes off, all go off. But there’s a control panel to isolate the sound and tell exactly where the problem is.
   The local authority alarms are given an annual inspection. That happened last week. The poor bastard used the synchronised check, and explained that this was his life…pretty much on an hourly basis. Weekly is good enough for me. 

There are other alarms in life. Those come via e-mail. Or they used to, in certain cases. With gas prices flaring up in height past the moon, energy costs are on my mind as summer stumbles into view. It is important to keep gas usage to a minimum in the summer. I feel like a woodland creature, stocking up on credit with the gas company now, burying money into the account so I can harvest the supply come winter.
   It’s been cool here. Autumnal weather for weeks on end, punctuated by bursts of sunshine. Certain rooms in the house are cold as a result. I look after a woman with dementia. She is snug in bed at night. By day, she sits in her powered chair and watches TV, warm beneath a huge cover.
   In this lofty garret from which I type, I put up with the chill…or grab a throw, and pile on a winter jumper. If we didn’t make use of throws and blankets, that little old lady would heat the house in summer. She loves the heat. Since I took over, I’ve tried to maintain energy discipline on her behalf.
   Oh, we go through loads of electricity. There’s no getting around that. But her house is no longer routinely heated in May or a chill June. She’d heat the place in July on cool days. This behaviour intensifies with dementia. And you have to arrange alternatives. Like, oh, y’know, switching the fucking heating off and offering thicker winter clothing.
   This need for heat comes with age, dementia or not. The answer is to spend a modest amount of money on layers of clothing. Every time I fry an egg, the gas-usage pays for an energy executive’s luxurious cruise along the Riviera. So heating the house…or not heating the house…is in my thoughts.
   If I weren’t in charge of the heating, that heating would run solidly from March through to May, trickling into June. But I am in charge of the heating, and usage tails off as February ends. Money still goes into the coffers during this time, stoking up a reserve for next winter.
   It’s a chill June morning as I type. This is good. I want the house to be cooler inside than out as the heat rises with the onset of summer. She’d have the heating on, right now. It stays off. I just purchased more clothes – and they are the usual mix of light summery items and heavier autumn-winter pieces.
   I decide, on cooler days, to go with heavier garments. This is for reasons of cheapness. And I broke out the heavier blanket this week, to keep the complaints at bay. That woman would stand at the gates of hell and ask for the fire to be turned up a wee bit, frustrating a feverish devil – pitchfork and all.
   When someone with dementia says I’m cold, or, to be Scottish about it, ah’m cauld, then it is true. Even if I’m baking in the heat myself. Covid is around, so I shoot the both of us every morning with the temperature gun to see how cold we are. Really, to make sure we aren’t too feverish.
   When that person is cold, pile up the blankets. There can’t be gas heating in May or June. There won’t be any in July or August. I’ll try to get as far through September as I can without resort to the radiators. Autumn into winter and the stirring of spring…well, that’s a different story.
   As a carer, I’ve cut chunks of April, May, chill days in June, and dismal summers in July from the heating menu. August never needs the heat, and I’ve throttled off September as much as possible. Crazy warm days in October – beyond my control – keep the heating off as well.
   Ah, yes, my control. Those fire alarms and e-mail alarms. That’s where I came in. Thinking of periodic checks on fire alarms got me thinking about periodic warnings from the energy company. These just stopped, for some reason.
   It used to be the case that the company would warn that your direct debit was going up to cover the increased usage. Hadn’t had one of those alarms in ages. With gas on everyone’s minds, I decided to check the account. Regular warnings from the company used to send me there to make adjustments.
   With gas usage down over the years, thanks to me, the direct debit costs adjusted downward. End result, in this gassy Armageddon, was that we weren’t paying enough. Regular fire alarm maintenance applies to the bank account, too. And I regularly check the finances.
   But this lack of noise from the gas company…I should have spotted that more quickly. Good limits on gas meant low direct debits. But while the usage may be down, anything used is paid for through a very bloody nose, now, no matter the tariff you are on.
   End result. The use-by date of this tariff will lead to a shock bill on the day. You are paying this much monthly, but you are falling behind – and we haven’t made the customary adjustment. So it is up to you to make the customary adjustment.
   I pumped cash into the monstrous void, and reset the debit arrangements. Now, come the end of the deal, there’ll be modest credit instead of vast debt. The government is about to pump extra winter fuel bonuses into the cold houses of pensioners everywhere. So the money just spent will come back into the coffers…in time to be recycled on the serious essential usage in December.
   There’s no escaping that.