Well so much for the red wine idea. When I went into the nursing lodge this afternoon I could see that it wasn’t going to work today. I walked in through the entrance doors to the unlocked side of the section where Anthony is, past the foyer and into the big room where various activities happen, and stopped short when I saw that there was, indeed, an activity going on.
I stepped back and apologized for my intrusion into what I found out later was an occupational therapy session of skittles (like bowls), but I was immediately welcomed in by a combination of residents, carers and staff. But I hesitated, as my eyes searched the small crowd of people sitting around the ‘bowling alley’, looking for Anthony and, as I stood at the doorway, and the woman in charge began to finish the session, I saw him in the far corner, sitting in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the room. He didn’t see me and, as I waited for the bowling session to evolve into afternoon tea, and those residents who could walk vacated their chairs to sit at a long table that had been set up, I watched him for a few moments before rushing up to kiss him and help him get to the table.
In those few moments I saw what other people see – a big man, slumped in a chair with a look of such blankness on his face that, if you didn’t know him, you would assume he had utterly lost the plot. You would walk past him assuming he was beyond communicating with. You might give him a glance of pity and keep walking, not noticing that he turned his head just a fraction to see if you were someone he knew. I read in his expressionless face such a look of undisguised sorrow that I wanted to run at and through him like a ghost-angel and turn around and find him back to the way he was. I also wanted to run away, to sob, to smash the room up.
Instead, I joined him for afternoon tea with a group of other residents, many of whom are from the dementia section. Ants is in the high care section but the dementia section is next door. I shared some chitchat and chocolate with the residents, carers and volunteers as I sat close to Anthony, who gripped my hand in his and who couldn’t stop looking at me. Then I helped him back to his room and settled him in (with the help of a walker contraption which he is now supposed to use instead of the walking stick).
We then had our usual discussion about coming home – him saying how he wanted to come home for the day/night, and me saying he had become too heavy for me, and him saying he could try harder etc. Then, just as I was about to begin yet another explanation as to the why of our predicament, Anthony began to yawn and yawn and yawn. Every time I reached a point of extreme eloquence he would yawn again. Finally, I said, “Am I boring you?” And he said, “You are a bit.”
I laughed all the way home!
So here is cheers; I have decided to have a glass of red wine.
jmgoyder 
Aint Life Grand – while you can still laugh, have a wine (& YAWN), you haven’t got room for tears.
You are so right!
Pretty cool that you two still know so much of what the other is thinking. It kind of is comforting in some ways?
Very comforting – we are so lucky to have this!
hahaha you are a bit! I love how honest you two are with each other. 🙂
He’s often much more honest with me than I am with him! A lack of tact runs in his family – ha!
he’s such a corker! love it. ‘you are a bit’ haha.
cheers jules. bending an elbow with ya.
Elbowishly yours!!
Hey, another new blog world dictionary word! nice jules!
Do I get money for it?
oh you are so cheeky!!! no money…just a new vocab!
ha!
You two are gorgeous! lol
Aren’t we just! I didn’t really laugh all the way home – only to halfway.
Its purely creative license. We would expect nothing less.
Yes 1
I tried to write something profound about your amazing sense of humour and how it saves the day so often in Anthony situations, and that only You, such a courageous and strong You, would be able to turn so many dire and desperate situations into laughter albeit salty with tears.M.L.
That is profound!!!
glad you can see the humour in it — even though what your are writing is difficult, you write eloquently–I wish your ghost angel could do what you wanted
Thank you – I wish so too and I also wish you the best my friend!
that took much love and strength……….you are quite a woman JUlie
It took its toll I’m afraid!
i am sure it did
I seem to have been struck by grief at its worst – argh.
i can’t figure out why i have days like this. i feel like a merry go round in fast motion, spinning, and not being able to get off. i want to cry, and yet i want someone here. i feel my insides screaming, but it doesn’t come out. i hope it changes fast. maybe i am just on a big pity trip, i don’t know
You are doing a most amazing job and again I do not know how you do it!
me either, Julie, i am a creature of habit? lol
It’s a roller coaster, isn’t it? But thank God for the ups! Your Anthony’s a delight.
Dry humour is his specialty!
I am sorry your wine date did not unfold as planned. Still a loving connection that will be there no matter what between you and Anthony. I can feel your disappointment though, and even with your amazing humor, know how hard this is. Big hugs Julie….
Will try again today – although might try a drive this time!
may be a good idea! ~ change of scenery for you both …picnic with wine (and beer?) xo
Ideally a picnic would be okay but too difficult now for me to manouevre Ants in and out of the ute or car.
i thought about that… picnic in the vehicle? park by a lake or forest? ~ wherever you venture to — may it be a beautiful encounter for you and Ants 🙂 x
Thanks Robyn – am gonna have to think more laterally I guess! Juliex
🙂 ~ maybe can work. I hope so much it’s a good outing. x
Me too!!! Hope you are okay??
I think you are amazing! I am sure it is often laughter amid tears, but the way you write about your Ants, I feel ya’ll are truly a love story for the ages.
Bless you, Barb.
I can’t find link to your own blog – argh!
I do not have a blog. I would rather reply to the blogs I follow than write my own.
Thanks for your generosity.
This made me think back to the days when I went to visit my aunt she would always be asking when she was going home and mum was always explaining that unless she could manage to walk to the toilet on her own there was no way she could go home……………
It’s so hard to keep having to say no.
Cheers, Julie 🙂
Yes, there’s humor in the sorrow. Cheers!
Thank God for humour!
Sadness and laughter, all in one post. You have quite a life.
As Anthony got more and more ill over the years, Ming and I decided that we had to find laughter as much as we could and I am still trying to do that (with difficulty!)
You’re going to be okay. xx
Yes.
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