jmgoyder

wings and things

Mar 11

Food, glorious food

by jmgoyder

One of the things I often say to Anthony, when I am leaving him to come home, is that I am going grocery shopping. As he was, and still is, a great lover of food, our grocery conversations often flow like this:

Me: I need to go to the butcher shop before they close. Do you want me to get some steak?

Anthony: Yes but not, not ….

Me: Not T-Bone?

Anthony: Fillet.

Me: But I love T-Bone! Why do you always insist on fillet?

Anthony: Better value.

Way back when Ants was home and still fit, his method of cooking steak on the barbecue was absolutely brilliant. He had it down to a fine art and wouldn’t let anyone help. The steak was always absolutely mouthwateringly delicious (as were my accompanying salads of course!) Apart from our many merry guests over the years, the only additional accoutrement was hot English mustard; wine and beer were a given.

Oh how I miss those days!

Anthony’s dementia means he is spared from the kind of nostalgia I feel because ‘those days’ are still here somehow and this afternoon he happily sent me off to the butcher’s for tonight’s steak.

He doesn’t know that, while one of the wonderful carers is feeding him his dinner right now, I am home, steak-less but smiling with these very happy food memories….

And eating yesterday’s popcorn!

 

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Mar 9

The outings

by jmgoyder

It became impossible a long time ago for me to take Anthony home, or out for a drive etc. because he is just too immobile. But one of his many nephews, Michael, makes a point of coming down from Perth regularly and actually enabling such an outing.

Michael always liaises with me about what time of day, and we make a tentative plan. So, a few days ago, Michael arrived promptly at 10am and, with the help of one of the nurses, we got Ants into Michael’s car and drove down to the Dome cafe.

Over the years, this has been a regular occurrence and I love it because, without physical assistance, I can’t get Ants out and about but Michael makes this easy. It is a fantastic gesture and each of those mornings in Michael’s car, with all of us sipping coffee and Anthony gobbling his own, and Michael’s cake or biscuit has left an imprint.

Thank you, Michael.

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Mar 7

Dementia dialogues

by jmgoyder

I was writing these snippets on Facebook but, now that I’m having a break from Facebook (because I keep getting confused about what I have written where!) I’m just writing them here.

As I was trying to reposition Ants in his armchair the other day, this was our conversation:

Anthony: You’re such a great big thing aren’t you.

Me: What? How dare you!

Anthony: Well you are!

Me: That’s only because you’ve become a tiny little dandelion!

Anthony: Yes, but I have power.

Me: Oh you do, do you?

Anthony: You still love me.

Well, he does have a valid point!

 

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Mar 5

Shenanigans

by jmgoyder

I remember the day, decades ago, when I discovered an enormous spider in the kitchen of Anthony’s house. Anthony was milking the cows and his mother, who we all called ‘Gar’, was having her afternoon nap, and I was trying to get the lumps out the white sauce I was trying to make on the Aga, to mix with the tinned salmon. I was nineteen and, even though I’d lived in Papua New Guinea for three years and I wasn’t afraid of spiders, I thought it best if I killed this particular giant.

So I found the fly spray and used almost the whole can to crumple the spider onto the kitchen floor. It died simultaneously with the white sauce which I only just rescued the Aga from (another story).

When Anthony came in from milking, I told him about my heroics proudly. He was aghast.

Anthony: You killed Martha?

Me: What do you mean?

Anthony: Martha is our pet spider, Jules.

Me: Oh no, I’m so sorry.

Anthony: Mum will be devastated.

Me: But you didn’t tell me you had a pet spider. Why didn’t you tell me?

Anthony: Where is she?

Me: Your mum? She’s resting.

Anthony: No – where is Martha?

Me: I’m so sorry but I put her into the outside rubbish bin. (I begin to cry).

Anthony: Jules – I am kidding!

Okay, so over 35 years later, I am sitting next to Anthony in the nursing home and he is boringly slumbery, so I put my face up close – nose to nose – and shout “Wake up!” His eyes open but he doesn’t focus. I keep my face close to his and all of a sudden he launches up in his armchair with an unexpectedly loud “BOO!”and nearly head-butts me.

Me: You scared the hell out of me, Ants!

Anthony: That was the desired effect, my dear.

 

 

 

 

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Mar 2

Uncanny

by jmgoyder

Today I arrived at the nursing home in time to feed Ants his lunch after which he also consumed three chocolate bars – a Cherry Ripe, a Boost, and a Mars Bar (thanks, Mel!)

He chewed through all of this chocolate slowly – very slowly!

Me: Are you chewing every mouthful one hundred times?

Anthony: Yes, because I am enjoying it one hundred times.

But that’s not the point of this post. Even though Anthony’s previously loud voice has become such a whisper, this is what he said next:

Anthony: I can’t stop thinking about what X said yesterday.

Me: What? Was X here?

Anthony: Yes and he said “Where is Julie; we need Julie.”

And Ants actually repeated this a couple of times, and was adamant that X had said these positive words about me. So, whether Ants is deluded or not, I choose to believe it.

Good.

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Feb 29

Impasse

by jmgoyder

There is always a dilemma when you want to write a story that might hurt other people the way the story’s reality has hurt you.

Recently, I have wrestled with how to reconcile forgiveness with writing the truth of my decades-long relationship with Anthony, including all of the pitfalls.

The “love story” and “once upon a time” posts began to retell a story that has already happened. But, as soon as I ventured into writing the ugly bits of the story, I received some pretty nasty flak; some advice to be careful what I write;  and, paradoxically, some encouragement to keep writing the story; etc.

So, in order not to upset people, I’ve decided to continue writing this story on a different blog – an anonymous platform – from which I can divulge, in story-telling detail, the truth.

In the meantime, this blog will remain positive.

 

 

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Feb 26

Extraordinary!

by jmgoyder

Ever since I described Anthony as being in “good physical health” on my blog, which seems an hilariously ironic way of describing someone who has just turned 80, is living in a nursing home, with more diseases than I can count on one hand, Anthony has been remarkably fit!

It has been an extraordinary few days with Anthony walking (with his walker of course, and accompanied by carers), and talking with a bit more gusto, and smiling widely with the various staff who come and go from his room.

Today, my mother visited us in his room and it was such a delightful day. Even though Ants often refers to the mostly female staff as “those guys” he still gets a real buzz from the way many of these beautiful women flirt and banter with him.

Apparently Ants has been walking better and doing physiotherapy and occupational therapy better and he even demonstrated some arm exercises with the OT today in our room. It was hilarious and I am so grateful for these people who really do care about him!

Of course, he isn’t getting better. That would be, physiologically, impossible, but his extraordinary liveliness this week has been such a buzz. I know I’ve said this before, but Anthony is the most resilient person I have ever come across; he never complains even when I say no to his requests to come back to the farm (often his childhood farm, not this one). He accepts the status quo, accepts his health problems, accepts that when I leave to go grocery shopping and he says, “don’t be long, Jules”, I am not coming back until the next day. And this almost never comes back to bite me.

This afternoon, one of the OTs said Ants was, as always, invited to “Happy Hour” (a monthly event in the common room). His response was a perfect representation of how extraordinary and funny he is:

Anthony: Is that with all the old people?

Me: Yes, but it could be fun; we’ve done it before, remember?

Anthony: Do I have to?

Me: No, of course not!

Anthony: They’re all so old so no thanks.

And I am reminded again of the best gift Anthony gives me, not every day but often enough – laughter.

 

 

 

 

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Feb 23

Who am I?

by jmgoyder

No matter how prepared for it you are, it still comes as a shock when a person you love stops recognising you.

When Ming dropped in to see Anthony on his way home the other day (it was early evening), Ants didn’t know who he was but guessed that it might be S, his youngest nephew.

I told Ming not to take it personally and that lately Anthony sometimes disassociates me from Julie and will ask me where she is. This lack of recognition doesn’t hurt at all because I have been half expecting it anyway and it is very easy to convince Anthony that I am Julie. But of course Ming was, understandably, hurt and perturbed.

In this final phase of Parkinson’s disease dementia, Anthony is experiencing paranoia, delusions, hallucinations and extreme confusion. Now that he has so much trouble speaking (physiologically and cognitively), I am getting better at listening to his whispered fears.

Anthony: Watch out for those boys.

Me: They aren’t boys – they are the nurses looking after you, Ants!

Anthony: Are you sure?

Me: Yes!

Yesterday it was me, my mother, Ming, and multiple staff, popping in and out of his room, enabling his grin but, after individuals left, Anthony would ask, “Who was that?” – even about people he has seen daily for years.

It is quite possible that one day I will go in to see my husband and he won’t recognise me, but I have decided not to worry about that day. He is still in good physical health (well for an 80-year-old!)

And even if he doesn’t recognise us as us, he will still want Ming’s boisterous hugs, my double-handed hand holding, my mother’s silent knitting, and the banter of the staff at the nursing home.

Who am I?

I am the person who reassures Anthony that the farm is going well, that the money situation is fine, that the cows are being milked by an amazing team, that there is plenty of kerosene for the Aga, that his mother is fine, that I will buy a mango for tomorrow….

 

 

 

 

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Feb 21

“Ming the Merciless”

by jmgoyder

During Ming’s last year at high school, all of the kids were allowed to imprint on their grammar school jackets an emblem or phrase that represented who they were. Ming chose “Ming the Merciless”.

And that he is! This week, he mercilessly told me some home truths about how my sadness about Anthony affects him. This has been followed by many lengthy philosophical conversations about a whole lot of topics including life, death, love, loss, grief, acceptance. Occasionally he and I have cried together about our different heartbreaks, comforted each other by just listening, and made plans to get out of our individual ruts.

Ming is not merciless at all. He is the kindest person I have ever known and the way he cares so much about me, and Ants too, is extraordinary in its depth. I think back to all of those nights when Ming slept in the bed next to Anthony’s in order to give me a break from what we called ‘the night shifts’ and I am so grateful for his help, patience, love and comfort.

Now, at 22, this child/man of ours is, understandably, a bit tired of both Anthony and me, but he cares so much that he doesn’t ever want to leave the farm. He gets a lot of peer pressure to ‘get out there’ but he wants to stay put for the time being, work as a waiter, earn some money, and be here for both Ants and me.

And, no matter how many times I tell him that we don’t want him trapped into feeling he has to be here for us, he just reiterates that he loves this home, that he doesn’t want to go anywhere at the moment, that he is content.

Ming is so much like Anthony in this way; Ants knew how to go with the flow, work hard and he had no delusions; he was content with, and proud of, life as a dedicated dairy farmer despite the changes that wreaked havoc with the industry many year ago. I have always admired Anthony’s lackadaisical attitude to life and work and his acceptance of every single ‘whatever’. Ming has this capacity too but he is merciless against himself!

I am so proud of this amazing son of ours – Ming the Merciless!

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Feb 21

Ten more minutes

by jmgoyder

Tonight, I went to see Ants later than usual because I had a party to go to later that evening. I arrived at 6pm to find him in bed, propped up comfortably and watching television. I pulled my chair close to the padded rail on the left-hand side of his bed, muted the television, kissed him and grabbed his hand.

He was very blank to begin with and, because he hardly blinks, his eyes were wide and a bit  confused. Our conversation wasn’t particularly animated because his voice was a whisper

Me: You look like a stunned mullet!

Anthony: You are ….

Me: Are you tired?

Anthony: Yes.

Me: Well I am going to a party soon but you can stay put. Is that okay?

Anthony: Yes.

Me: It’s L’s party; she’s graduated and now has her PhD. You remember L?

Anthony: I think so.

Me: May I change the station to the food channel?

He didn’t respond so I did so anyway and we watched a chef put together a delicious meal.

Me: This is making me hungry, Ants.

Anthony: Is there any chocolate?

Me: Yes!

One of our closest friends, M, provided a massive amount for Christmas and he has only gotten through half of it. So, one by one, I popped a few treats into his mouth because his hands weren’t working. (Around a year ago Anthony seemed to partially forget how to feed himself so, if I were there at mealtimes, I would feed him. We would joke about this and I would exclaim, “Feed yourself for goodness sake!” and he would say, “It’s more sexy when you do it.” I would laugh and laugh and he would smile.

Anthony has now become one of those residents who often (mostly?) has to be fed. But that’s okay because at least he still has an appetite and can still swallow adequately enough that his food doesn’t have to be mushed.

My plan was to leave the nursing home at 7pm, drop in to see my friend, N, on the way to L’s. I told Anthony this a few times as I was saying goodbye to him, then N rang to say she was running a bit late.

Me: Ants, I can stay another 10 minutes.

Anthony:  I am enjoying myself.

Me: Can you enjoy yourself when I’m not here?

Anthony: Yes.

My heart relaxed and I put my hand into his again and squeezed it and he took my hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

Ten minutes later, as I got up to go, he looked at me, his eyes wide, but no longer blank. I looked back, kissed him goodbye, and told him I would see him tomorrow.

Anthony: Ten more minutes?

Me: Yeah we’ve already had those. I love you so much, Ants!

Anthony: I love you too, Jules.

I have been so terribly sad lately that blogging seemed too hard, and responding to others’s blogs even harder, but I think I might have my writing voice back now. I hope so because I really want to write about this experience with Anthony, and Ming too; I really want to re-experience and express how beautiful ten minutes can be.

 

 

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