jmgoyder

wings and things

I just deactivated my Facebook account – what a relief!

I have never taken to Facebook as much as I have taken to blogging, however over the last few weeks I have become more and more obsessed with checking up on my family and friends to see if they are okay, to find out if they are happy or sad, to ‘share’ information that might be helpful etc. But this morning I realized that the level of anxiety I experience before going to FB is too horrible. I.e. What if I have said the wrong thing? What if they don’t reply? What if they are sick of me commenting on their situation? What if they just wish I would go away?

But it’s not just my insecurities that have influenced my deactivation decision; I am sick of the advertisements, the miserable media reports, the posts from people I have never heard of, the disturbing images, causes, and cries for help from people I cannot possibly help. One of the many strange things about FB is its strangerness.

I will probably hop back onto FB in the near future but at the moment I’ve just had enough – not of my family and friends of course – just of Facebook itself and its paradoxical facelessness. After all, I do have a phone number, and an email address, and have a bit more animation than my gravatar.

Also, I might now be able to get to my mountain of paperwork – bills, tax return etc. I’ll just check my emails first haha!

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Mating season again for our peafowl!

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The kiss
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If any Gutsy9 look-alikes turn up in the next few weeks, I have already found a home for them at http://www.fergusonfarmstay.com.au/‎ (a lovely place closeby.)

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Nightmares

I had a dream last night that someone I knew (it wasn’t clear in the dream who exactly he was), took me to a holiday house somewhere near the sea. It was a really shabby old house and I felt a bit reluctant to go in but I did anyway because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Then, once I was inside, the door shut with a clang, and I knew immediately that I was doomed because a hanging rope was already in place for me and the someone-I-knew became a cackling stranger who was going to hurt me before killing me. The terror I felt within that dream woke me up, and I entered the day in a daze of perspiring relief that it was just a nightmare.

Have I read too many books, seen too many movies, thought too many thoughts, felt too many emotions? Yes, probably, but this was the most frightening nightmare I have ever had. Of course this nightmare is not hard to interpret at all I guess – a bunch of mixed emotions following trauma; ongoing anxiety for all those affected by trauma; shame, guilt and embarrassment over the stupid things I’ve said and done since the trauma; and a momentary wish that I would die.

The nightmare has made me see much better what it must be like for Anthony when he experiences the night terrors and and hallucinations of his PDD. If I can experience such a vivid nightmare whilst being physically healthy, and wake up with my face covered in the sweat of terror, then what is he going through?

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From heart to heart: The Dr. Says

I have made many friends in the blogosphere, one of whom is Sandra Callahan. She is wise and funny and positive and she and I share some very similar experiences. We have supported each other through many ups and downs and yesterday she made a comment on my post that compelled me to rethink yesterday’s doctor’s appointment with Anthony during which he described his dreadful terror the night before as ‘a bit of fun’. Sandra said, ‘He must have been embarrassed by his behavior. I cannot imagine how scary it must be when he doesn’t recognize people and they are trying to force him to do things he doesn’t understand.’

Sandra’s comment made me realize that Anthony’s bravado with the doctor was to cover his embarrassment and, even though I was aware of this at the time, it didn’t really hit me until I read Sandra’s wise words. Of course he was embarrassed – to be confused, to have been terrified of nurses, to have possibly made a fool of himself, and to have worried me so much. Anthony’s ‘bit of fun’ was his way of covering up his embarrassment and I understand that much better today than I did yesterday thanks to Sandra. She has once again helped to sharpen my sense of perception with her amazing empathy.

Our hearts have a lot in common except for one fundamental thing: mine is still beating loud and clear and Sandra’s is failing. She has congestive heart failure and is dying. But she is also living to the utmost, encouraging people like me and talking honestly about dying. Her book is now available and here is the link.

From my heart to your heart, Sandra.

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“I’m so much better, Jules!”

Today I picked Anthony up from the nursing lodge to take him for a doctor’s appointment to get some of his never-ending skin cancers burned off with that ice stuff. Having been a farmer all his life, out in the full sun before the days of hats and sunscreen, he develops many of these on an almost daily basis – new eruptions from old sun damage – on his arms, face and back mainly. Even though it hurts, Anthony has a strange liking for the procedure, mainly because he really likes seeing our doctor and so do I.

In the car on the way to the doctor’s office I asked him did he remember what had happened last night and he surprised me by saying yes.

Me: Well I think we should tell the doctor because this seems to be happening more often and you sounded so terrified.
Anthony: I didn’t want to be ordered around.
Me: So you fought the staff, told me I was part of a conspiracy against you, thought you were being tied up, and frightened the hell out of me.
Anthony: They deserved it.
Me: But they were just trying to put you to bed! Was anyone being nasty or pushy?
Anthony: Not really.
Me: So why did you fight them?
Anthony: Oh, just for a bit of fun.

AAARGH!

Before I go on, I should explain that this kind of conversation flows much more smoothly on the page than it does in real time. In real time, there are a lot of pauses and sometimes Anthony’s voice is so soft now that I have to say, “what?” or “say that again?” before I understand what he is saying.

Anyway, his ‘bit of fun’ comment made me laugh, until I became a bit cross.

Me: So you think it’s funny to torment the nurses and make me cry for worrying about you.
Anthony: The first thing yes but not to you. (He reaches out and pats my knee as we pull into the doctor’s parking lot)
Me: Well I’m going to ask the doctor to prescribe you with something for when this happens again.
Anthony: So you want to drug me.
Me: Nooooo! I just don’t want you to have one of these terrified episodes again with nothing to calm you down. Even I take something like that now and then!
Anthony: Yes, but you probably need it.

He has a point there!

When we went into the doctor’s office, he already had his ice-spray thingy in his hand like a weapon (a little joke he and Anthony share), but I told him that our visit was two-fold and then described last night’s incident, including Anthony as much as I could, despite his point of view being different from mine. He, too, thought it was funny when Anthony said it was all a bit of fun and Anthony’s eyes did that rare twinkly thing and he nearly smiled.

A new medication was prescribed, several skin cancers burned off and we left feeling as if we’d been on a social visit. By that time it was early afternoon, so I suggested we eat at a restaurant but Anthony wanted MacDonalds (most unusual!) So we got burgers from a drive-through, went to a park and ate them in the car (much easier than getting Ants in and out of a restaurant), then went to a bakery and bought a fancy tart which he vacuumed up, and a big chocolate cake for the nurses. By the time we got back to the nursing lodge, he was exhausted.

Okay it is now nearing the time I usually ring Anthony to say goodnight. The new pill won’t be available until tomorrow so we may well have a repeat of last night’s situation but this time I will be ready and I won’t let either of us be disarmed. I have to be prepared for the worsening of Anthony’s condition even though every single morning he says to me, “I’m so much better, Jules.”

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