jmgoyder

wings and things

Imagined conversation 8

Me: I’ve decided to go on a health kick – exercise every day, only eat natural foods – I’m even sprouting mung beans again.

Anthony (yawning): The deja vu is killing me.

Me: I’ve even started using those weights of yours – you know the red ones that were in your nursing home room.

Anthony: You mean the ones I used to pretend I thought I was good at?

Me: Yes, I mean no. Wait a sec. I thought I was the one who was pretending you were good at it.

Anthony: Jules?

Me: Yes?

Anthony: I may have had a spot of dementia, but I wasn’t a complete fool.

Me: I wasn’t saying that and you know it!

Anthony: About your health kick….

Me: What about it?

Anthony: Long may it last.

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Imagined conversation 7

Me: It’s 2am and I can’t sleep.

Anthony: 2.09am to be precise.

Me: You’re quick!

Anthony: Don’t eat too many of those cherries or you’ll get the runs.

Me: I see my psychologist later on this morning.

Anthony: Why the hell do you think you need to see a psychologist?

Me: I think that’s pretty obvious, don’t you?

Anthony: What a lot of rubbish. It can’t be that bad, Jules.

Me: It isn’t as bad as it was but, oh, you wouldn’t understand. You’re lucky you’re the resilent type. Anyway, I’m going to try to go back to sleep. You would love these cherries!

Anthony: What are they a kilo now?

Me: A small fortune!

Anthony: Hmm, they’re free here. Actually everything’s free.

Me: Ha – I bet you like that!

Anthony: Too right.

 

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Getting wise to grief

I know that this is going to sound weird but grief is actually quite interesting.

I have been trying so hard to outwise/ outwit? the effect that this terrible grief is having on me. Okay, so the grief itself is a given and it’s understandable that I would be grieving for Anthony; that’s not pleasant, but it’s okay.

It’s how this grief translates into everyday life that is the real challenge. For example it is so tiring to be so tired of grieving, to be so tired of my own tiredness, tired of myself, tired of crying, tired of not being able to cry, tired of trying so hard not to be tired.

Grief is exhausting! I can just imagine telling Anthony about this and it makes me laugh because he would have rolled his eyes and sighed at my ridiculousness in trying to figure grief out. He wouldn’t have offered clichés like ‘move on’ or ‘you need to get out and about more’ and I don’t even think he would have said, ‘I wouldn’t want you to be so sad, Jules’. Instead, he would have said ‘do what you want, Jules’ and I know for sure that he would be secretly chuffed that I miss him so much. His heavenly ego will be getting a rush.

Anthony adored me. Even though it took him over a decade to realise it, he made up for lost time very quickly and I think I am one of the luckiest people in the world to have had such a fantastic marriage. I wasn’t this long-suffering carer of a sick husband (which is probably the perception – you know, the dutiful wife); I was cared for by him. Every time I saw him in the nursing home, the joy in his face was the joy I took home with me, no matter how poignant.

Grief is often seen as the loss of someone you love and of course this is true but isn’t it also true that you miss being loved? I do. It’s not that I want to be adored per se (despite being a blogger – paradox alert); I just want Anthony’s adoration.

And, like a kid outside a closed candy shop, that’s my face pressed against the reflection of the impossible.

Grief is interesting. And so is getting wise to it.

 

 

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The retreat: 2

In the evenings, Karen’s husband, Vince would come home and serve us pre-dinner drinks – mineral water in beautiful wine glasses (the retreat was alcohol-free) and then seat us at the dining table. This table was in itself a visual gift – white linen table cloth, fresh flowers, scented candles. The other guest, J, and I were then served two courses of amazing food – mostly vegetarian/vegan/raw, beautifully interesting and creative. The four of us would chit-chat during the meal as Karen served and Vince washed up. There was a feeling of leisurely calm in the serving and partaking of food and Karen was very happy to share her recipe secrets.

I have never really thought about the idea of sustenance before but Karen (a qualified chef) provided us with such amazingly healthy food that we came away from that dining table sated, even comforted somehow. Having not eaten much of anything since Anthony died, it was a luxury to be fed in such a kind way. I kept wanting to hop up and help with the dishes etc. but soon learned that it gave Karen and Vince a lot of pleasure to serve us. I felt like a queen!

After dinner, I mostly retired to my suite and watched television and/or cried for Anthony. The resort had an extensive dvd and book library so, as a movie fan, I was in my element. It was absolutely wonderful to know that, once I’d retired, I would not be disturbed and that private space of grief, and movie distraction, and tears, and sleep helped me recover. Plus my bathroom had a big spa bath and I made the most of that as we only have a shower at home.

I realise that these posts are a bit disjointed but it is impossible to describe KalyaaNa – https://www.kalyaanawellnessretreat.com.au/ – in a single post. The experience was surreal and valuable at so many levels.

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“Thoughts on hearing loss”

Awhile ago my mother had an epiphany about being deaf. She was at a social occasion and, as usual, finding it very difficult to keep up with the conversations around her. Meg never complains about this despite the fact that, at times, she must get extremely frustrated and even depressed about not being able to hear. Her hearing loss wasn’t gradual; it happened all of a sudden in 2003, just like that! Since then, it has become worse, even with the use of various hearing aides.

I love the following poem that she wrote because it shows the kind of resilience she has, and is a great example of acceptance. With three children, eleven grandchildren, with spouses and partners, four great grandchildren, and one on the way, family occasions are often loud, boisterous and Meg often misses out on any or all of the conversations around her dinner table, even if only a few of us are there. But the poem shows her ability to derive joy anyway:

The Owl
I perch nearby
Look down and see
A nest filled up with hatchlings.
Their beaks are open wide
A thousand feathers flying.
The patient mother drops a worm.
They squawk and flap.
Cacophony of joy.
She drops the next
And bedlam fills the air.
I watch.
I smile.
I share.
I am alone
But
I am there.

 

 

 

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Our TEDx talk

Here is the link to the talk Ming and I gave the other day at Bunbury’s TEDx event.

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Doing it

I bumped into some relatives today at our local, rural, shop and they said they had intended to go and see Anthony today, but it was too late in the day. It was raining relentlessly so I admitted that I, too, hadn’t gone into town to see Anthony but that Ming was doing it.

Doing it?

Why did I describe my visits to Anthony as a job that needed to be done? Why didn’t I say, “Ming is visiting Ants today”? instead of “Ming is doing it today.”

I am so embarrassed that I expressed myself this way because for all of these years I have felt and believed that the romantic love I share with Anthony would somehow sustain us. In fact, as Ming often points out, Anthony is now mostly lost in his world of Parkinson’s Disease Dementia. Yesterday, for example, Anthony was mostly asleep during my 2-hour visit and this is often the case.

Perhaps love is not simply a feeling but also a decision. For me, this realisation has made all the difference recently because in deciding to love someone, that ‘do it’ decision, is an absolute in the face of multiple contingencies.

Do it.

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8. Carrot juice

Several years ago Anthony and I embarked on a carrot juice diet and we went through two juicers (warranteed and replaced) in our quest for better health. We did this for around two months until our skin took on a rather strange, yellowish hue and Anthony developed arthritic pain. At the time, I did a bit of research and discovered that an overabundance of carrots can actually be harmful so we gladly quit the carrot juice and laughed ourselves silly about what idiots we’d been.

Looking back to that time, I now think that perhaps Anthony was showing signs of the Parkinson’s Disease Dementia that has now pretty much paralysed him, physically and cognitively. I guess I was trying desperately to find a solution?

I am a great fan of cold-pressed juice but I also know that it takes a hell of a lot of carrots to make a single glass of this elixir and nobody in their right mind would ever eat that many carrots in a single day. Nowadays I make juice with the outer lettuce leaves most people throw away, a single carrot, an apple, and orange, and a bit of ginger. This quest for health has consumed me lately due to my recent battle with mycoplasma pneumonia; I need to be well again and it has taken so long to get better. The hospital doctor did actually include (in his written report) my suggestion that my illness might have something to do with grief but, in the end, that was dismissed, the evidence of the mycoplasma bacteria was found, and I was given mycoplasma-specific antibiotics.

Anyway, back to carrot juice; once I was out of hospital I decided to go on a health kick. I’d lost five kilos so fast that my arms were (and still are) wasted and (hilariously for Ming) still stick-like. The other day, I reminded Anthony of our carrot juice adventure and he smiled. He remembered!

Anthony: But it’s good now isn’t it?

Me: Yes.

Anthony: I prefer chocolate.

 

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Values

Ming and have both sought psychological help over the last few years and one of the most difficult questions to answer is “what are your values?” I think this is a very tricky question, but an important one. It is also a question that I have found extremely challenging to answer.

Stereotypical answers might be: health, family, financially okay, great relationships, good job, political stability, beautiful kids, long life etc. but these are too vague and I don’t like my own vagueness.

Perhaps the question should be rephrased to “what do I value?” This turns the noun ‘value’ into the verb ‘value’ and, in my opinion, makes the question easier to answer. For example, I know what I value most, whereas I can’t quite pinpoint what my values are.

What do I value most?

  • Kindness (the giving and receiving of);
  • My son’s growing wisdom;
  • Anthony’s smile;
  • Authentic relationships with family and friends;
  • Humour;
  • My ability to write about dementia;
  • The new puppy, Pip;
  • Honesty; and
  • Salad.

I haven’t been very good lately at looking after my physical, psychological and emotional health but, like many, I baulk at self-helpy stuff. But there is nothing wrong with self-help! After all, the best way of helping others, which is something I feel passionate about, is to get yourself on track first, surely.

Ming comes home tomorrow from a 6-day intensive beginning to a diploma in psychology which he will complete in around 15 months. He seems to have found his niche and I can’t wait to hear about all of it; we have already had some fascinating phone conversations.

Even pre-dementia, Anthony would never have understood Ming’s passion for helping people; nevertheless he would be so proud if he understood. Often Ants still thinks Ming is a toddler so when this great big man steps into the nursing home room it can be a bit confusing.

Ah yes – other things I value:

  • Laughter;
  • Still being in love; and
  • Ming.
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Green juice adventures

I am a lover of green juice – a devotee, a fan, an advocate! The idea of green juice is what wakes me up in the morning, what keeps me going during the day and what EXHAUSTS me in the afternoon/early evening. Why the latter? Because I make it myself.

Let me explain the process in detail. I’ll even include a timeline.

3pm: Go out to your luscious vegetable garden and try to ignore the 35 degree heat.

3.05pm: Go back to the house to get a hat, a sweat band, and a container into which you can place your freshly harvested greens, and try to ignore the flies in your nostrils, the ants between your toes, and the possibility of a snake in your vegetable forest.

3.10pm: Once you have found your garden scissors (this may take awhile, so try to remember to remind yourself to always put them in the same place so that you don’t have to dig the entire garden up looking for them), begin to harvest your amazing produce.

3.30pm: Try not be too alarmed by the fact that all of your spinach and all of your celery plants have somehow become trees. This is because you haven’t been out to the garden for some time, but don’t feel guilty; after all, it’s hot, dirty and insecty out there. Just cut a few branches off the spinach and celery trees.

4.15pm: Take your container of beautiful green vegetables to the wash house and plunge them into a sink of cold water. If they won’t all fit, take some of the smaller greens into the kitchen and do the same. Have a little rest.

4.30pm: Cut up some apples and carrots and a bit of ginger. Put these into a big bowl with the washed greens from the kitchen sink. Make sure your wonderful cold press juicer is responding to electricity and BEGIN juicing!

5pm: Don’t be upset if you forgot to change out of your white shirt; green is a lovely colour!

5.05pm: Pour the results of this exciting process into the bottles you have waiting-and-ready for the wonderfulness of this green juice and put them straight into the refrigerator. Try not to think about the recent theory that if you don’t drink freshly pressed juice immediately, it won’t ‘work’. Allow yourself a few sips of the elixir and feel the surge of energy this provides you with. You will need this energy because now you have to clean the juicer.

6pm: Now that you have washed and rinsed the many parts of the amazing juicer you bought online, have a little rest again. You may indulge in a little green juice (delicious!)

6.30pm: If you are struggling to reassemble the juicer for tomorrow, you may open a bottle of wine. A single glass of this kind of juice can help immensely as you perform this semi-final task. Try not to panic if the top bit doesn’t quite screw into the middle bit of the bottom bit of the juicer. Instead, use this experience as a kind of meditation. If moments become minutes and minutes become, well, hours, you can either call on someone to help you, or just do that whole breathing thing until the juicer is ready for use again. Do NOT swear at the various parts of the juicer that won’t cooperate immediately; do NOT send an angry email to the manufacturers (because they did their very best and, after all, this is a very superior juicer); and, above all, do not give up on loving the green juice!

7pm: The last stage of this green juice adventure is the most challenging; force your son and husband to drink it. If your son says that there is a bit of grit in it, just smile calmly; if your husband spits it out, try not to be offended. You did your best.

And all of that leftover green juice is yours!

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