jmgoyder

wings and things

Not buying into Christmas

Such a relief! Today, Ming and I had planned to go into town, get presents for each other and Anthony, get a Christmas tree, a ham, wrapping paper, sticky tape (which I can never find), send a few last-minute cards, decorate the house, find the Christmas tree lights and ornaments (oh where did I put them?) and generally have a frantic, stressful, expensive, horrible day.

But on waking up this morning to a day that was already promising relentless heat, I changed my mind and a bit later I discussed my idea with Ming:

Me: I think we should postpone Christmas.
Ming: What?
Me: Well, you will be in hospital until Christmas Eve … actually maybe we should just skip Christmas this year.
Ming: What? No presents?
Me: No presents.
Ming: No tree?
Me: No tree.
Ming: No turkey?
Me: No turkey.
Ming: No Christmas crackers?
Me: No Christmas crackers.
Ming: Mum, this is such a relief!
Me: So you agree?
Ming: I think it’s a brilliant idea!
Me: Without all the usual fuss we can celebrate Christmas for what it is.
Ming: Do you mean go to church?
Me: Yes.
Ming: Okay, let’s shake on this.

So we shook hands and grinned at each other.

The sense of relief is huge! I don’t have to fight through the throngs at the shops, spend a small fortune on ‘stuff’, don’t have to worry about how the hell I am going to cook a turkey with no oven, don’t have to search the whole of Australia for cranberry sauce, don’t have to spend hours wrapping presents, don’t have to queue up at the post office – ahhhhh!

A bit later:

Ming: But what will we eat for lunch on Christmas day?
Me: Ham sandwiches? I mean Anthony hardly has any appetite anymore anyway, it’ll be too hot for me to eat and you’re a fussy brat.
Ming: I like ham sandwiches.
Me: Good, then that’s decided.
Ming: But Grandma’s still coming on Christmas day isn’t she?
Me: No.
Ming: WHAT?!
Me: I’m joking, you idiot!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh – now all I have to do today is frolic with the peacocks – yeeha!

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The stove that died

A couple of weeks ago I put the kettle on and it boiled and I made my morning coffee A bit later, I put the kettle on again for my second cup and nothing happened. Anthony’s 1963 stove died quietly.

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Sigh … it is only three years older than I am, poor old thing!

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Here we go again!

Yesterday Ming and I went up to Perth for the pre-op. things – blood and urine, ECG, consent forms for bone graft and bone marrow, consultations with a nurse, a doctor and an anaesthetist and, in the midst of all of these exciting events, I opened the letter we’d been given on arrival.

Well I got a bit of a shock because his surgery is scheduled for next Tuesday, 17th December! This means he will come out of hospital on Christmas Eve, or may be in over Christmas. Ming is elated it is happening before the new year but, with such short notice, I am a bit panicked about organizing things. He has to be in the hospital at 6.30am which means we will have to go up to Perth the night before and stay in a hotel. I will probably book in for two nights so I can see him the next day but then he wants me to come home again (“so you have time to get my Christmas presents, Mum!”)

This revision surgery is nothing compared to the massive scoliosis op. last year so it should be a piece of cake (I hope!) I took his photo this afternoon after asking him how he felt about the op. His expression is difficult to read but to me it says, “Fine!”

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While we’re in Perth, these two guys will look after the farm!

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A peaceful place

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My great niece

Several weeks ago a baby girl was born into our family – my nephew’s first child (with the help of his beautiful wife), my brother’s first grandchild, my mother’s first great grandchild, and my other brother’s and my own first great niece.

Seeing her today was wonderful! She has changed so much already – as babies do. Surrounded by the love of her parents, grandparents from both sides of the family, and great aunts like me, cousins and second cousins galore, this child already has the delighted expression in her navy blue eyes of being Number One!

My mother had a long conversation with her while I sat on the floor, ignored and jealous, until suddenly this fantastic baby turned her head to me, squeezed my finger in her tiny fist and told me a few home truths (I was unable to interpret but hopefully her parents will translate what she said to me later). She fixed her piercing eyes on me and uttered several baby sentences which I tried to answer to the best of my ability but eventually she threw my finger away with a look of ‘omg this auntie is thick!’

Neve – I love you, my first great niece, and your parents are pretty okay too (but you already know that!)

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My muse is a peachick

Gutsy 9 is one year old today (yes I got the date wrong in a previous post – I thought I found her on November 9!) For those who don’t know, G9 is the peachick I found scurrying around outside on 9 December 2012. I knew she wasn’t a duck or a goose but I thought she might be a chook, or a turkey, or even a guinnea fowl, and it took me awhile to realize she was a peachick. Since none of the peahens seemed to want her, I brought her into the house and raised her until she was big enough to go outside. As she grew, I discovered that she was pied (half white and half blue) and recently that she was a she after all (we had thought she was a he). She is a daily delight – she runs to me whenever she hears my voice and still does funny little twirlies, then follows me like a dog. Here are some photos of her a year ago – on my shoulder, Anthony’s lap and in Ming’s hands – and her birthday photo today. She has brought all of us a great deal of joy.

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Meg and Ming

Ming (my son) and Meg (my mother) are very good at charades, or whatever they were playing when this photo was taken. I have no recollection of this occasion, but my mother just sent me the photo which I have never seen before! In the good old days, when Anthony still lived here at home, my ma would often come to visit on Sundays. She and Ming would play games nonstop while Anthony and I watched, bemused, amused and sometimes hysterical with laughter. Meg and Ming + Ming and Meg = Inviolable.

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Meg is Ming’s only grandparent so they have a special relationship, as well as very bad taste in eye-glasses. Thanks for the guffaw, Ma!

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Not a one-way road

25 years ago, before Anthony and I were married, I would often travel the two hours from Perth to the farm to spend the weekend with him (he rarely took a day off). I would turn into Paradise Road – the short, narrow road leading to the farm – stop my car and quickly refresh my lipstick, powder my nose, spray the perfume he gave me onto my neck, fluff up my hair, then zoom the remaining half mile with my heart beating madly in anticipation.

I would arrive to a shout of “JULES!” the scent of a chicken roasting in the Aga, and a hug that would nearly crush me. There would be beer, maybe a visitor or two, willy wagtails flitting here and there, and the beautiful, comforting smell of cow dung in the outside air. There would be Anthony’s bellowing laughter, my latest anecdotes about university and the nursing home where I worked, a lesson in gravy making, a beautiful meal, a favourite comedy on television and lots more hugs.

We were in love.

Now, I head in the other direction up Paradise Road to go into town to pick Anthony up from the nursing home and bring him to the farm for the afternoon. Even though I retain a tiny shred of that anticipation of 25 years ago, it is tainted with a kind of exhausted dread because I know the afternoon will be difficult. There will be no bellowing laughter, very little conversation and there will be a lot of dangerous occurrences when Anthony tries to do things he can’t do anymore – like chopping wood, washing the car, mowing the lawns, fixing the gate. I will secretly (through the kitchen window) watch him try and give up, then I will watch him stand outside, swaying slightly whilst leaning on his walker, then I will ask him to come back inside. If I hover over him it makes him feel inadequate, so I don’t but as he has had so many falls, I get anxious. I watch him struggle for half an hour with things I could do in minutes (like opening a gate, washing the dishes), and I try to breathe slowly and patiently. If he begins to do something ludicrous (like wind a clock with a knife, drink from the sugar bowl, talk to people who aren’t there) I sometimes intervene and not always gently! And he has no idea how absolutely exhausting these days at home are, no idea of the guilty relief I feel when I can take him back to the nursing home, no idea of how much my heart breaks when he says, “But why can’t I just stay here with you?”

During the drive back it will be the same halting conversation:
Me: I can’t manage you at night now – you know that, Ants – you’re too heavy.
Anthony: But I’ve lost so much weight.
Me: I know but you are still too heavy and Ming isn’t supposed to lift either.
Anthony: I’m better than I was Jules.
Me: Yes, but you still have Parkinson’s disease.
Anthony: I miss you so much – please never leave me.
Me: Idiot! Of course I won’t leave you! Ever!
Anthony: That’s good then.

We are in love.

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Dementia is not contagious!

A lot of people are afraid of dementia, whether it be Alzheimer’s Disease, Parkinson’s Disease Dementia (my husband Anthony’s type), or other variations. It isn’t just the fear of developing the disease one day, it is also the fear of anyone who has the disease.

As someone who worked in nursing homes for many years, dementia doesn’t scare me at all but I guess, if you haven’t had that kind of experience it could be scary visiting a loved one who used to be the life of the party, or extremely energetic, or with a dry, sarcastic wit (Anthony) only to find them either silent or saying what sounds like nonsense.

But it’s not that scary once you get used to it – it’s not! You learn how to listen differently, you learn how to be comfortable with silence, you learn how to love the person again for what he or she is now, instead of pining for an impossible past. You learn to be unafraid, you learn how to give, you learn how to go with the flow, you learn how to treasure each and every moment no matter how bizarre or strange.

“I just want to remember him/her the way s/he was” is a common sentiment expressed by friends and family of people with dementia and this is understandable, yes, but it is also cruel and selfish and horrible because people with dementia are not dead. People with dementia might be confused, cognitively, but there is nothing confusing about the emotional need to be hugged or acknowledged or visited. Why is this so scary for so many of us?

Before this happened to Anthony, and despite my nursing experience, I, too, found it incredibly difficult to visit people I knew who had developed dementia on top of everything else they were already suffering. Can you imagine how terrible it would be to be so sick, so confused, and then abandoned?

There are not too many visitors at the nursing home where Anthony resides and, when I was a nurse, there were very few in the three nursing homes in which I worked. Loneliness is universal and has nothing to do with age or dementia. People with dementia are lonely; people with dementia are human; people with dementia are often aware of the dementia and need comfort and reassurance, or just a hug. A 5-minute visit is enough to make a bad day good.

This is not about Anthony exactly because he gets a lot of regular visits from family and friends but, because I am in there nearly every day, I see the blank, lonely expressions on many of the other residents’ faces and have now made friends with several people there who never seem to have a visitor. I have also made friends with the relatives who do visit but we are a tiny group.

And the point of this little rant? If you have a friend or relative with dementia, please don’t abandon them. They need you. If they don’t recognize you, so what? Just give that person a hug or a pat on the shoulder and then you can go back to your life knowing that you will probably have made that person’s day shine!

BTW dementia is NOT contagious! (Anthony said that to me today).

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Showing off, peacock-style!

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King (blue) and Prince (white) have taken a liking to flirting with the peahens just outside my office door. Needless to say, and the pictures show this I hope, the two white princesses are indifferent. King and Prince have a fraught relationship, but they never fight because Prince, being younger, always capitulates and stops showing off when King comes along.

Gutsy9 came to my office door, a bit confused, and wanting a pat!
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