Part of our guide to dementia care.
James Bowdler
2 September, 2026
2 min read
Guide Contents
Families preparing for dementia at home plan for memory loss. What actually breaks them is behaviour, and almost always at night: wandering, taps left running, hours of calling out, a second person in the room who is not there. It is the part nobody warns you about, and it is also the most expensive line in a care budget.
The daytime version of dementia is the one families rehearse: repeated questions, a lost purse, a missed appointment. Hard, but survivable. The calls that reach us in quiet panic are almost never about the days.
One man in his late sixties rang about his brother, who has advanced dementia and went downhill fast after losing his wife of nearly forty years. His brother wanders at night, leaves the taps running, and had pulled the monitoring sensors off the wall. Another family described a father knocking on neighbours’ doors at 3am.
A daughter arranging care told our team that her mother often sees two people where there is only one, and the second one is never kind.
“One person will be there, but she’s often seeing two people, and that second person’s not a nice person.”
Her mother needs constant, gentle reassurance that nobody is in the house who should not be. “She can go on repeat, believe me. Thirty times and counting, and that’s no exaggeration.”
A live-in carer called us close to breaking point about a client who shouted through the night in jealous, frightened episodes, convinced someone was taking her son away. “She will just be shouting so that she thinks she can attack them.” Her conclusion was honest: “I don’t think this is going to work for me, it’s too heavy for me.”
Dementia can also cause disinhibition, including sexual remarks or advances towards relatives or carers. It is a symptom rather than a choice, it is worth raising with the GP, and it is one of the practical reasons a family may need a carer of a particular sex: a clinical requirement, not a preference.
None of it is constant, which is part of what makes it so disorientating. As one daughter put it: “It’s very up and down. But I guess that’s Alzheimer’s.” Late-day agitation has a name and a pattern, so it is worth reading up on sundowning and on the signs that dementia is getting worse.
Written down, “he gets up two or three times” looks like nothing. In a budget it is the difference between affordable and impossible.
A live-in carer’s day includes a sleeping night: they are in the house, they will get up occasionally if needed, and they expect to sleep most of it. Once the nights are reliably broken, that is a waking night, a different job and usually a second person, because nobody can work all day on three hours of sleep. That boundary, not the diagnosis, moves the bill.
One son worked the maths through out loud with us. Three short toilet trips a night, forty minutes in total, nothing dramatic. But it wrecked his carer’s sleep, and the fix on offer was a night carer on top of the live-in carer, roughly doubling his weekly bill.
“It all gets really expensive for 40 minutes.”
Another family lost a live-in carer over this line. The carer felt the nights had gone past what she signed up for and asked for complex care rates; the family felt the need had not changed. “Two to three wakings per night is acceptable,” the relative told us. “But anything more than that, obviously, we have to consider.” Both were describing the same nights, and neither had agreed in advance what they meant.
For rough scale in 2026, a self-employed live-in carer booked through the platform is typically £130 to £190 a day, while agencies commonly start from about £239. Hourly, private carers are usually £18 to £25 against roughly £25 to £35 through an agency. Private is usually cheaper, though never guaranteed to be. Waking nights are priced separately: see overnight care, sleeping nights and waking nights and the forty minutes that doubles the bill.
The instinct when nights fall apart is to buy more staffing. Often the first thing worth exploring is medical, and it is cheaper and faster.
Broken nights usually have a cause: pain, constipation, a urinary infection, needing the toilet repeatedly, medication timing, a dark or over-stimulating evening, breathing problems in sleep, or vivid dreams acted out physically, which is common in some forms of dementia including Lewy body dementia. Some can be treated, and all are things a GP would rather know about than guess at.
Ask for a medication review, and ask directly what might be disturbing sleep. If sedation comes up, that balance belongs to the GP, not to us or to a carer. One family put the risk plainly: you want something that eases someone into sleep rather than knocking them out, because a heavily sedated person who does still get up is a person who falls. See our guide to dealing with falls.
Take evidence. A fortnight of notes, one line per waking, tells a GP more than any description from memory:
And never let anyone be given medication that has not been prescribed for them. A live-in carer told us a family had pressed her to give an over-the-counter remedy at night and she refused. She was right to, and any carer in that position should ask the family to speak to the GP.
Continuity does more for night-time agitation than almost anything you can buy. A new person at 3am is a stranger in the house. As the brother of one client explained, memory works against you: “With dementia, you’ve got to be very careful. Five minutes down the line, they’re like, oh, I haven’t seen you in ages.”
People with advanced dementia often lose their later languages and return to the one they grew up speaking. Families ask us most weeks for a carer who speaks a parent’s first language, and it is not sentiment; it is the difference between reassurance landing and not. We look at this properly in when a carer’s first language is a clinical requirement.
Door and motion sensors, a bed sensor and a hallway camera have let a lot of families sleep. One son set up exactly that so he could stop lying awake listening. But equipment only helps if the person tolerates it. Choose the least intrusive thing that answers the real question, usually “has he left the house”, and tell any carer what records what. Start with technology that helps someone live alone and dementia clocks.
The hardest skill, and the one experienced carers all describe, is not correcting someone. You do not talk a person out of the second, unkind figure in the room; you reassure, you redirect, you check the doors and you sit with them. Carers describe how in don’t tell them they’re confused.
The families who keep good carers describe the nights accurately, including the parts that sound off-putting. The ones who round “up two or three times, sometimes shouting” down to “he mostly sleeps through” lose their carer within a fortnight and start again.
Say it at the introduction and write it into the advert: how many wakings, how long, what happens during them, whether there is shouting or accusations, whether anyone has walked into a carer’s room at night. A carer who says yes on that basis is a carer who stays. It is the same principle as posting a job that describes the real work.
Then be realistic about what one person can carry. Live-in care is not 24-hour care: a carer needs a proper break in the day and a night that mostly holds. Where the nights do not hold, the honest answers are paid night cover, a two-week-on, two-week-off rotation, or both.
PrimeCarers checks carers’ identity, right to work and DBS documents, and carers complete our onboarding before they can be booked.
PrimeCarers is an introductory platform and does not provide, manage, supervise or clinically assess care. Clients remain responsible for checking carer documentation, interviewing carers, checking suitability for their specific needs, and agreeing the scope of care directly with the carer.
When night behaviour tips into danger, families often end up explaining it over and over to different teams. One daughter, whose mother had wandered into the road, described weeks of it: “I’ve just been passed from pillar to post.”
What changed things was describing the risk in concrete terms: unsafe, leaving the property, in the road. She called them “the magic words”, and within days she had an urgent medication review and a mental health assessment. Health and social care teams are stretched and triage on risk, so they need specifics: what happened, when, how often, what could have gone wrong. Giving them that is not working the system, it is giving the system what it runs on.
The same applies to your council. Keep a dated log, ask your social worker how best to word a request so it reaches the right team, agree a timeline, and chase politely against that date. The routes are set out in our guide to funding care.
One more thing families are rarely warned about: accusations. That same daughter watched her mother tell shocked neighbours the carer had shouted at her and hit her, then an hour later thank that carer, in tears, for staying. Every allegation deserves to be looked into properly. But a false one, born of the illness, need not end a good relationship. That carer took her planned break and was welcomed back.
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James Bowdler
Author