Thanks to Jane for this link. It is so sweet and interesting!
Wrong number!
I just got an awful shock when I realized why the scary man on the phone is so angry. Let me explain:
The scary man rang me the other day on the home phone and here is how the conversation unfolded:
Me: Hello?
Scary Man: Hello.
Me: Is that … ? Sorry, who am I speaking to?
Scary Man: No, love, I’d like to know who I’m speaking to.
Me: But you rang me.
Scary Man: You got that wrong – you have rung me and hung up around seven times now.
Me: Sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Scary Man: You ring me in the night and hang up just as I’m answering the phone. What is your name!
Me: Julie!
Scary Man: Julie who?
Me: Come on – I hate this joke thing. Who is this?
Scary Man: Oh, you hate this joke thing – so why do you keep waking me up late at night?
Me: What are you talking about? Sorry, are you the builder from Boyanup?
Scary Man: I’m not a bloody builder. Where are you ringing from?
Me: Western Australia.
Scary Man: Well I’m in Queensland, girlie and if you keep on ringing me ….
Me: I’m not ringing you – I’m so sorry – we’ve had a severe storm recently so maybe it’s the telephone wires or something?
Then, a few days later, the scary man rang again and Ming answered and this time the guy was extremely aggressive on the phone and I could hear Ming apologizing and assuring the man we hadn’t rung him.
I couldn’t work out the conundrum until I found out that I had one digit wrong in my nephew’s phone number (who I’d been trying to ring for a few days), so I thought that must be it.
Until yesterday. Yesterday, I rang Anthony’s mobile number and guess who answered – yes, it was the scary man! His voice is deep and gravelly and totally recognizable. In terror I quickly said, ‘Oh, sorry, I have the wrong number,’ and quickly hung up.
Okay, in a previous post, I described my method of ringing Anthony. Because he is slow to answer, I let the phone ring four times, hang up, then four times again and hang up and he sometimes answers on the third try. I do this around three times per day if I am not going in to visit.
I must have misdialled a few times and obviously the scary man’s phone number is similar to Anthony’s. I am now much more careful when I dial! And, since Queensland is two hours ahead of us, that explains the late night thing.
I am so glad the scary man lives in Queensland and not around the corner!
Good things 1
A pianist in our paddock (yes, I know I posted this photo previously but for some reason the comments went off automatically).
Last beautiful picture of Anthony with Doc (who died several weeks ago). Jack in the forefront, who I have re-named ‘Jumping Jack’ because he jumps like a kangaroo, will outlive all of us I think!
How to make a Harley Davidson motorbike cake ….
My good friend, the madcakelady herself, on the left, and me.
A son, sitting on the best surprise Christmas present ever! (Anthony is in the background).
Anthony’s pride and joy, the Aga – the hub of this house.
A scoliosis surgery success story.
Love.
A better life?
Today has been eventful.
A lovely place has been found for Arthur (see previous post) and he will be leaving in a day or so. Ming (Son) has told him the hut is no longer safe and we have to have it inspected for wiring (which we do).
One of the guinnea fowl was cowering in the corner of the emus’ lean-to, so Ming helped her get out. I think she wants somewhere safe to lay eggs, so here we go again!
Ming and I went out for lunch despite suffering from gastro. We had to go because it was a promise we made yesterday when we had our long discussion. I had chilli prawns and now feel amazingly better!
Anthony got angry on the phone this morning (first time ever) and said he was hurt (first time ever) that he couldn’t come home for the night so I have arranged to pick him up for the day tomorrow. His uncharacteristic upsetness has cast a shadow on today, but tomorrow will be better.
I have nearly caught up with the washing and folding of clothes.
Ming is a happy chappy.
I am too but I seem to have this spare water balloon full of tears that keeps landing in front of me, making me afraid to smile, or take the next step.
Ming said he read the post about him on Facebook and hated it but then he grinned.
One of my two PhD students has finished and submitted his thesis.
Anthony just asked me on the phone (I ring him several times a day when I can’t get in to see him) if I still loved him and I said yes.
During lunch, Ming said we were not to talk about Anthony so we didn’t.
The ute is making a funny sound.
I had a dream last night that I was having an argument with someone and a hippopotamus squashed her.
The main car’s side mirrors are smashed and I still haven’t rung the insurance company.
Nearly all of the young peacocks now have long feathers.
Wild galahs and 28s are everywhere.
There is a rat in the washhouse which only Ming has seen, so I need his company to do the washing.
I have a mother who is a best friend.
The electricity has not gone off now for a couple of days.
I have resigned from my job at the university.
I will never, ever wish for a different life.
I will never, ever wish for a better life.
This is a better life – this is the best life.
Birthday boy – Baz!
Today was Anthony’s best friend’s 50th so I went into the nursing lodge and picked Anthony up to bring him to the party early, before the throng arrived, so that we could have a quiet drink with Barry (Baz).
A lot of things went wrong:
- Anthony couldn’t walk from the car to the chair to sit down and Barry and I took awhile to get him seated;
- Anthony started shaking and shivering immediately, so Baz gave him a red wine to help and that seemed to work;
- Anthony had to be back at the nursing lodge by 6pm at the latest, for his pills and for dinner;
- It took a couple of people to get Anthony back into the car to go back, by which time I was openly crying which was embarrassing;
- Anthony squeezed my knee as I pulled out of Baz’s driveway, but I was so distressed and disconcerted that I banged into the fence on the left, and then on the right;
- I got Anthony back to the nursing lodge in time and went back to the party to make sure I hadn’t damaged Barry’s fences (I hadn’t – phew!)
A lot of things went right:
- Baz liked his birthday present;
- Ants and Baz were happy to see each other;
- Baz’s wife, Julie, and I had a huge, wondrous, hug, as Anthony and I were leaving;
- I have now realized that Barry’s birthday party will be the last one Anthony ever goes to.
Happy birthday Barry, and I wish so much that Anthony could have been there properly – not like this sick, old man, but like the life of the party he used to be – oh well!
Unchopped wood
Here is a typical little scene of when Anthony/Husband comes home for the day:
I hear yelling outside as I am preparing lunch. I hear the slow chopchop of the axe. More yelling – Son to Anthony. I hold a grrrr tight in my chest.
Then, like a constant re-run of an old episode ….
Son (running into the house in a panic): Mum – Dad is trying to chop the wood again! He won’t stop!
Me (stirring the fish mornay for lunch): Is he okay?
Son: Yes, but what if he chops his leg off?
Me: If he chops his leg off we will deal with it. Just stop yelling at him. Let him do it – please – let him do it.
Son: Well do I supervise or what?
Me: Only if you don’t yell at him.
Son: Grrr!
Anthony usually manages to chop enough wood to start a fire in the fireplace before exhausting himself. Before he moved to the nursing lodge we would have a fire going 24/7 because he feels the cold so badly. But, when he isn’t here, Son and I don’t bother because, until next February, when Son’s spine is totally healed from the operation, he is not allowed to do things like chop wood, lift heavy objects, ride his motorbike.
So, except for when Anthony is home, that pile of wood remains unchopped and the fireplace unlit.
The warmth of Anthony’s presence is much more than metaphorical!
Pondering 2
Some people say that love never runs out but I think this might be a lot of crap (and I don’t mind debating this), because it does run out. It runs out all the time in all sorts of different situations. Sometimes it dries up from the heat of exhaustion; sometimes it trickles into other ponds; sometimes it kangaroos away; sometimes it smothers itself with toomuchness; and sometimes it simply evaporates.
Some people say that the opposite of love is not hatred but indifference and, to some extent, I understand this theory but not entirely; I have been the recipient of both and the perpetrator of both. I hate Anthony’s disease(s) and I hate those who have hurt him and both of these hatreds will never become indifference while he is alive.
Son’s attitude has altered from hatred (of Anthony’s disease, of Anthony himself, of life and circumstances in general) to indifference (again, supposedly the opposite of ‘love’). This has only happened recently and, to begin with, I was upset because, as Anthony’s wife and Son’s mother, I wanted Son to keep on loving his father, but the fact is, quite simply, he doesn’t because he can’t. And that is perfectly all right because he is only 18 and has helped me in the caring role for many years now and he deserves to soar ahead of us.
Last night on the phone to Anthony I told him that Son had a problem coping with the situation, and with him, and Anthony, always pragmatic, just said, “Give the kid a break, Jules! I love him and he loves me and we both love you more than anyone in the world.”
Some people say that love never runs out and I agree. It just gets a bit whispery.
When the status quo shifts
When we first got Okami and Uluru we didn’t know that, underneath all that wool, they were quite little!
Once they had been shorn (earlier this year), we got rather a shock and had to retrain our brains to see them the way they are now instead of the way they were.
I don’t like to be overtly symbolic but this is very similar to the way Husband/Anthony, Son and I have had to retrain our brains in order to tune into the ‘now’ of Anthony’s Parkinson’s disease and its associated dementia.
In many ways, this creeping dementia is okay but in other ways its evidence always gives me an alpaca-shock!
“You were pretty crazy on the phone last night,” I say to Anthony. “Are you normal again?”
“Jules, I was at this party at Kingley Park.”
“Okay, so where are you now?”
“I’m at this place, you know, the old age home. When are you coming in?”
“Tomorrow morning – is that okay?”
“Bring me some of that chocolate I like, you know the one?”
“Yes. I’ll ring you to say goodnight.”
“Well don’t make it too late because I might be in bed.”
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
There is something extremely comforting about these phone conversations, but also discomforting (or is the word ‘discomfiting’?). On the one hand Anthony seems comfortable and content, though lonely. On the other hand, he often sounds confused but when I see him (every couple of days now), he is always perfectly lucid and the friends and relatives who visit him say the same.
I am about to go out and feed Okami and Uluru so I will ask them. Their huge eyes are always full of gentle wisdom.
Out-foxing the fox
If you were a fox, would you attack or retreat?
If I were a fox, I would retreat!
Storm 2
Two days ago I went into the local town (Bunbury) to see Anthony at the nursing lodge. It had been raining and windy but I hadn’t actually heard the weather forecast so I was surprised to find tree branches all over the road as I travelled into town. At the nursing lodge, which is right near the beach, the wind was strong but not overwhelming, but 5 minutes into my visit the wind became an audible howl and I opened Anthony’s curtains so we could see. The little trees in the garden were being whipped around madly and I said I thought I better go home as one of the nurses said a big storm was coming.
“Oh sure,” Anthony said, uncharacteristically grouchy, “I’ll be an old man next time you see me.” He was walking me slowly to the exit, then he stopped and looked up at me (I am much taller than him now because of his stoop). “Oh, that’s right, I am an old man aren’t I,” and he chuckled. “That’s for sure,” I laughed.
Outside the rain began to pelt down as I leapt into the car, and my 15 kilometre trip home was hair-raising. There were trees down everywhere in all of the paddocks and the road was almost blocked here and there by trees, branches and debris. As I turned into our little country town a shed was rolling across the road this way and that and momentarily seemed to somersault towards me so I sped up, wanting to get home quickly in the hope things would be better. But when I got home it was worse – the wind was almost impossible to walk against and inside the whole house was rattling. It was about 2.30 in the afternoon so Son had gone off to the neighbours to milk the cows. I turned on the radio to hear the weather forecast and at that moment the power went out.
The weather was so wild that I was afraid to go outside and very worried about Son who soon came back saying they couldn’t milk the cows because there was no electricity. It wasn’t until around 11am yesterday that he and his boss could milk the cows with the aid of a generator for electricity. By this time, of course, many of the cows were suffering from mastitis having missed two milkings.
A few hours later the power came on again but only lasted a couple of hours which is when I wrote my posts and read a few blogs. Then it went off again and only came back some time in the middle of the night last night. Son went over to milk at 3am (it’s usually 5am) and apparently things can go back to normal with milking this afternoon at the usual 3pm.
Another storm is predicted for tonight, but here is a link to a news item. Thankfully, it seems that no person has been hurt so far.
http://au.news.yahoo.com/thewest/a/-/breaking/13917214/western-power-battles-storm-damage/
To give you an indication of the ferocity of the storm here on this little farm, one of the massive wattle trees that the peafowl and guinnea fowl sleep in has come down, some of the guttering on our roof has catapulted to the ground, there are huge branches all over the place, bits of the old washhouse have peeled off, the dogs will need psychiatric treatment and I have a new respect for electricity.
And the birds? Without exception, they have all absolutely loved every minute of this excitement and none have been injured. Oh to be a bird!
jmgoyder 