I am not good with publishing my work professionally. I’ve published a book of poetry in Germany in 2013, but the publisher went bust in 2016. The few books I have left or those floating around that people purchased will never see the light of day again. And that’s ok.

There is someone who systematically goes through my blog and goes through each post click-by-click and seems to copy my website and all my writings. Please be aware of copyright and that I have passed on my writings to trusted people in case I die before my (whatever) time.

I want to post a few more experiences while they’re fresh in my mind, certain things I experienced in my life. I already re-posted my time in Los Angeles in 1992 when the “Rodney King Riots” erupted and we young naive German “adventurous” just flew to LA without any goal or plan. Apart from the riots, I don’t even know how we made it back home in one piece as we stayed at strangers’ houses, even slept in a car for a few nights, went through a minor earthquake which was nevertheless quite scary as the house eerily moved back and forth like a ship in the waves. But this would be nothing to the hurricanes and tropical storms I experienced years later living in Florida. Stories for another time.

My encounter with Barry George at my workplace in 2000, and shortly after he was arrested and later wrongly convicted and imprisoned for TV presenter Jill Dando’s horrific murder in broad daylight at her doorstep. I just wrote about it yesterday as her unsolved murder is in the news again and I was reminded of Barry George. I did not want to put a photo of Mr. George on my post as this incidence still triggers me for how weird he was. But people can just google him.

My hellish experience at Pret A Manger is scattered throughout this blog and on social media.

My brother’s death and all the surroundings of it that was and is THE one most devastating thing in my life.

My dad’s coma, rehab and how the system works with hospitals and nursing homes that has scared the sh!t out of me. His dementia and clear thinking back and forth. His death while I was preparing for the Tribunal case I raised against Pret.

And then my mum.

I cannot believe she is already gone since over 2 years. Everything went downhill so fast. I’d fly back and forth since around 2017 when she needed an operation on the spine which went well. Then three months later my dad in a coma for three weeks. Then Pret continuing to target and the fire me days after my dad came out of his coma and seemingly started to recuperate pretty fast.

My dad dying. I raised a Tribunal claim against Pret at the time while flying back and forth to his bedside and to my mum still functioning well at home. I withdrew the case when my dad died.

From then on 2018 my mum started to deteriorate mentally. I flew over every 2-3 months and spent a solid three months with her during the first lock-down. The lock-down for me personally was a blessing in disguise because unbeknownst to me I took one of the last flights out of London and then got “stuck” in Germany. I didn’t realize at the time it would be the last time I’d be with my mum at her house. But I prepared myself and we started to get help with a carer and slowly talked about nursing home.

I was on autopilot again, still traumatized from my brother’s death and seeing my dad so poorly. I was shocked to see my mum completely change every three months. Every-time I flew over she seemed a different person. My dad’s dementia was also at the beginning stages, but also his mind was “smashed” as we say in Germany due to all the medications, the coma, the stroke etc. So, it felt more “normal” to see him confused.

But with my mum it was shocking because there was no clear change of circumstances except that a carer came into the picture. And only later did it click that THIS was the catalyst for my mum’s mind to change so rapidly.

What makes me still angry today is that my mum’s longtime and nice neighbours never told me that my mum started to shout at people when a postman or Jehovah’s Witness knocked at her door. My mum was never loud or aggressive ever. She shouted at me on the phone sometimes starting AFTER her 2017 operation, but at the time I put that down to trauma and grief about her son. Also, I did some research and read that some older people change mentally after a major operation, so it might be a mix of things: grief + OP + dementia + anxiety with carer etc. But I didn’t know she raised her voice at external people not part of our family.

Only during the first lock-down in 2020 did the neighbours tell me! I was so devastated and angry why they didn’t tell me before, I could have intervened and gone to the doctor with my mum MUCH EARLIER to check her brain via scans and then see that dementia started to kick in fully.

My mum has always repeated herself for many years. That was nothing out of the ordinary. But what I didn’t know and was later explained by specialists is that with some dementia patients, they become aggressive. I didn’t know all that, also because my dad was not aggressive, he was just forgetful and confused and the surroundings in hospital all added to his confusion. But he wasn’t shouting at people.

Only in hindsight did I also realize that my mum went through the “Five Stages of Grief”. Literally. People often mistake this theory developed by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross as stages a bereaved person goes through. But that’s not it. Of course these “stages” can appear in grief at some point. But this was in regards to terminally ill patients Kübler-Ross worked with and noticed a pattern in how they processed their certain death.

My mum would be in denial (stage 1) that she needs more help than usual as she kept forgetting things and then also the shouting at people. Then get angry, shouting at people (stage 2 “Anger”).

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Then during lock-down she would constantly hug me or tell me “you’re my favourite daughter”. And I laughed and joked with her saying, “yeah mum, because you have so many daughters”, and she’d chuckle at this, as I’m her only daughter. But in hindsight she was bargaining (stage 3) when we started to talk about nursing home and medical support. She also would come into my room at night, switch the bright light on, sit at my bedside and just stare at me! I gently guided her back to her bed and sat with her for awhile completely confused why she is like this, whereas a few months before she wouldn’t do that! I was confused and scared myself sh!tless. No-one guided me, explaining dementia and anxiety.

She KNEW the “end” was coming, and I deeply regret not having immediately noticed that. Then the shouting at people which is anger. And the denial where she would make jokes and started singing and dancing, and I just went along because of all our trauma with my brother and then the pandemic that scared us all collectively.

When my mum died during second lock-down I myself went into CONSCIOUS denial and pretended VERY consciously that she’s still alive, but that I just haven’t called her in a few weeks. I couldn’t handle anything further.

I still go between torturing myself and being gracious with myself for not having taken the flight out of London just before the UK and Germany locked down again.

My mum’s house by then was already cleared, as I had to clear it weeks before and then flew back to London out of fear I lose my flat. So, I couldn’t stay at her empty house and her former landlords who were always very nice, but scared to have me in their house for fear of me bringing over Covid from the airport and the UK and German travel etc.

I booked a flight, booked a B&B nearby my mum’s hospital to just psychologically be able to tell her on the phone that I am close, because all visitations to hospitals and nursery homes were stopped.

But then my mum’s former landlord told me to keep checking the news as they’re about to lock down again. My flight was for the Saturday before lock-down and I researched and saw that the UK and Germany announced the 2. lock-down for that following Monday. Germany also prohibited hotels from having guests.

I then decided to cancel the B&B which at least I didn’t have to pay in advance, and let my flight go. Now I beat myself up that I didn’t fly over anyway and could’ve just slept in a train-station lobby or a reception area somewhere, just to be close to my mum and let her know that I’m back again. Strangely she did understand the issue with the pandemic as I and medical staff always explained it to her and patients. .

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Stage 4 “Depression” wasn’t so much there, except that my mum was always very anxious and I was used to her sometimes “neurotic” state, even years ago, but especially after my brother’s death. I accepted her and my mental anxiety as normal then.

My only comfort was and is what doctors later said to me that dementia is worse for the family members who witness it, but the patients themselves are often in “bliss” and are not stressed over things. And that’s true, my mum would often act silly and on the phone sounded like always (stage 5 “Acceptance”), but I often left the living room to go to the toilet or my room to cry my eyes out and go back once my eyes cleared up again and acted silly with her.

Dementia, Alzheimer is a brutal disease, and I’d rather sit in a wheelchair if I reach old age than lose my mind and be at the mercy of strangers in hospital, especially private equity FOR-PROFIT run hospitals and nursery homes.

And I sieve through my mind constantly what I could have done better or different. But I couldn’t. I was traumatized still and I did my best and my mum had great last three months at home and I am glad it wasn’t a terminal illness where she would consciously look at her last days. But I feel screwed up and don’t feel I will ever truly recover from these last years of ongoing trauma and loss. And I implore anyone from refraining to say that my parents were already older, and that’s just that.

May I remind everyone that we have just ONE life, and even if you become 110 years old, you deserve the absolute best quality of every second of your life possible!

I have learnt and come to terms about one thing for certain, NOTHING ever turns out like you plan or hope! I never ever ever expected a pandemic to come in and in the middle of it my mum moving to a nursing home and me not being able to physically be with her in her last days, let alone not able to bury her!! What the actual fnck have I done to the universe?! That would have never occurred in my wildest dreams!

Take care of your loved ones, call them if you haven’t in a while. If you can at all, reconcile any differences. If you can’t, you can’t. But if it’s possible, find your ways back together again.

And what I need to tell myself daily is DON’T be so hard on yourself! I did everything in my power and strength possible. It was a mess. Everything was a mess! But I did my best and I did well. And I had three solid months with my mum before she forever left her house and then life. It’s just all hitting me this year. Really, really hard. And it’s ok.

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I worked at Pret A Manger and survived systemic workplace bullying during bereavement that involved HR, the top leadership, HQ and even the now “retired” former CEO Clive Schlee. I declined 4 settlement offers if I am silent about my ordeal. But I rather speak out to help others. For an overview of important blog entries of my experience with Pret, please visit “My Ordeal with Pret A Manger”. The little arrow to the right next to each heading will lead directly to the post.
An incomplete list on what other Pret staff say about Pret’s bullying environment: Caught in the Act Bullying at Pret.
I tell my story for the first time verbally in below audio player interview on a podcast by The Adam Paradox, and wrote two articles in the Scottish Left Review as well as mentioned by the BBC.

Please also see the MEDIA page for more.

Thank you for reading/listening.

©2017 – Present: expret.org

Interview:

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