jmgoyder

wings and things

Refrain

I am so sick of saying the same thing over and over and over and over and over again.

Today, when I got Anthony home for the afternoon, he asked, for the millionth time if he could stay the night. And for the millionth time, I reminded him that he was in the high care section of the nursing lodge and needed two people to lift him etc.

He looked at me, his eyes hard, and said, “So now I know you don’t care about me anymore.”

It was too much for me to bear and I lost my temper, interrupting this regular refrain with a few minutes of hysterical rage which woke us both up and, thankfully, ended in a mutually apologetic hug.

Then the wheelchair taxi arrived to take Ants home.

Refrain.

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Despair and toilet paper

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I got home from my mother’s place this afternoon thinking I should have stayed another night despite the care package. Then I found that Ming hadn’t eaten much and was down in the dumps. Then I tried to ring Anthony (and am still trying), to tell him I’ll see him tomorrow. Then I discovered that there was no toilet paper.

Now I don’t think the lack of toilet paper usually sends people over the edge, but I experienced 15 minutes of crushing despair until I spotted a quirky gift on my bookcase – Novelty toilet paper!

I cried half of it away but the rest will be used for usual purposes! Now I just wish I could remember who gave this TP to me.

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Mummy!

After 3 weeks and 2 days in hospital, my mother can go home. Today! Due to the wrist and pelvic fractures, she has been allocated a 12-week care package including two nurse visits per day, gardening and cleaning, meal help, physiotherapy and rides to shops or elsewhere. I’m amazed at such a great package and it is relatively inexpensive.

In a couple of hours she’ll be home and I’m going over to stay for the first night. I’m going to cook something great while she catches up on her emails!

This has been gruelling for Meggles – horrible pain, intolerance of pain meds., nausea and dizziness, a zillion tests and x-rays, but she seemed to burst through the ghastliness a couple of days ago in her usual style – stoic, resilent, smiling.

She is still on two crutches but she’ll probably just be on one next week. My mother has guts!

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Let me in!

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Gutsy9 (the 5-month-old peachick I raised inside the house because none of our peahens were interested) is thriving outside now. He sleeps in a pen with the ducks, Zaruma and Tapper, but every morning I find him in the adjacent pen with the turkeys, Bubble and Baby Turkey! Oh well at least he doesn’t venture into the geese pen because Godfrey hates him.

As soon as I open the three pens to let them all free-range for the day, I am met with a cacophony of excited noises and then G9 actually sprints after me to the house and follows me inside.

Until today. Today I decided to say no to him, and tried to explain that his peacock poop is the reason. He wasn’t happy!

Oh and G9 is definitely a boy because our friend, Mike, who raises peas told me so. I’m not as thrilled as Anthony was when Ming was born and he yelled IT’S A BOY!

Secretly I was hoping for a little peahen – ha!

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Millionaire’s coffee

A few years ago, before Anthony became so incapacitated with Parkinson’s disease, we used to go to a restaurant on the beachfront after every doctor’s appointment.

We went to this restaurant after his diabetes diagnosis and we ate apple pie with cream and icecream defiantly.

We went to this restaurant after his liver disease diagnosis and drank a bottle of wine defiantly.

We went to this restaurant after his prostate cancer diagnosis and ordered the banquet deal defiantly.

We went to this restaurant after his Parkinson’s disease diagnosis and decided to try the millionaire’s coffee.

Today I decided to take Ants to this restaurant (which now has new owners). It’s only a few blocks from the nursing lodge, so very convenient, but I was still really nervous because of the unpredictability of PD.

I became even more nervous when Ants had difficulty walking, with his walker thingy, to the car and getting in. But, once his uncooperative feet were in, and his seatbelt was on, I started to feel more optimistic.

And it was a success! Ants was able to use the walker to get into the restaurant and we had an ocean view, a half bottle of wine, some fantastic prawns and scallops, and some bits of conversation. His PDD kept making the conversation weird but every time he said something crazy, I just laughed and squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

After we’d finished eating, I decided to order his favourite coffee, but the new owners of the restaurant had never heard of a millionaire’s coffee so I had to tell them how! The only trouble is that I couldn’t remember which three liqueurs went into it so I just asked them to use their imaginations.

They did a good job! Well I think they did – my head is still spinning – haha.

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I can’t wait to be 55!

For the whole of last year, I thought I was 54 and that I would turn 55 in January this year. I was really excited about turning 55 so it was a terrible disappointment to find that I was still 54 (I got the maths wrong).

So this year, now that I know I really am 54, I am counting the days before I can turn 55. As of today I have 267 days to wait and it’s hard to be patient.

I don’t want to be 55 because I have an OCD or spiritual connection to the number 55 – oh no. And I don’t want to be 55 so I can feel comfortable about going from size 12 to 14 in jeans, because I already did that this week. Turning 55 may help me to embrace the smile lines I seem to have suddenly developed, I suppose, but it’s not that either.

Okay, I will tell you why I want so much to be 55. No, wait a minute – let’s make this a guessing game. I could do with a bit of fun!

Why do I want so much to be 55? The best guess will receive a free wrinkle.

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Fixing fences

This afternoon I finally got hold of Anthony on the phone. I had tried numerous times during the day because I was worried about yesterday as a nurse had rung me in the evening to report a fall just after he got back from here.

You see, yesterday I got Ants taxied home again but earlier than usual. I wanted to see if a whole day home would work because usually it’s just for a few hours and he gets upset to have to leave so soon.

So he arrived at 11am which coincided with one of his medication times. I gave him the pill, and Ming, Ants and I sat out on the front veranda making the kind of smalltalk you make when one person can’t participate.

At around noon the drug kicked in and Ants was able to walk, with our help, into the house. We then watched a comedy on TV, and they ate pancakes with maple syrup and cream for lunch (Ming’s idea – yuck!)

By 1.30pm Ants had again become wobbly so I slowly shuffled him to the bed and he slept until 3pm. I helped him up and outside again and then Ming and I got him into the wheelchair ready for the taxi.

This might not sound like a wonderful day but it was!

But this afternoon’s conversation was a bit of a blow. When I finally resorted to ringing the nurses to help Anthony answer the phone, this is what we said to each other:

Me: Ants, I’ve been ringing you all day. Why can’t you remember how to answer the phone? I’ve been so worried about your fall.

Anthony: Well, there’s a reason for that – we don’t get along anymore.

Me: What! What are you talking about?

Anthony: The fence.

Me: Which fence?

Anthony: On farms, you know – broken fences.

Me: No, all of the fences are fixed now, Ants.

Anthony: But us – the fence I mean – it’s broken.

Me: I don’t understand what you mean!

Anthony: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I was just joking. Jules, don’t cry please.

….

Okay, I got over this ghastly phonecall and we both ended up saying áll the I-love-you stuff.

I don’t think this fence can be fixed, but I guess it can be mended whenever we fall on it.

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Epiphany

Two days ago I had an epiphany and, since then, I have felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief!

You see, despite the fact that my weight has been a fairly steady 70 kgs for about 10 years (I’m “5’10”), I’ve had an ongoing wrestling match with my size 12 jeans for some time now (which may explain my Herculean upper half but let’s not go there).

The epiphany was this: You should be wearing size 14 jeans, you dimwit!

So I went out and bought a pair of cheap size 14 jeans and I am in HEAVEN! I can breathe! My stomach roll has disappeared! I no longer have to jump from the roof into my jeans!

And it only entailed a slight psychological shift – a numbers thing – what an idiot I’ve been! Oh I haven’t been this happy (and comfortable) for years! I LOVE size 14!

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Resolutionary

I will do this
I didn’t have time
I will finish this
I didn’t have the energy
I will conquer this
I got waylaid
I will be grateful
I was too sad
I will get fit
Ï was too tired
I will bake bread
I ran out of flour
I will eat properly
I wasn’t hungry

Anthony used to call this the Ï was gonna complex!

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The disappointed geese!

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Whoops – I ran out of bread.

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