jmgoyder

wings and things

Hello!

I am interrupting my blog break with a post because of an incident that has shaken me.

Two days ago, Anthony’s brother, J, a couple of lovely nephews, and Ants’ oldest friend, all convened at the nursing home. I didn’t realise at first that this had been arranged by J.- a fantastic gesture except that he forgot to invite Ming and me.

Nevertheless, I was delighted, despite the fact that J’s instructions were to have Anthony outside. The carers couldn’t lift Ants out of his armchair and they were about to get the hoist when the two nephews managed to get him into the wheelchair. I decided then that I would have to go with the flow so I wheeled Ants outside.

He was cold, uncomfortable, un-talked to (but talked about rather wonderfully by the nephews and friend); I sat right next to him and shared some champagne with him until it became obvious that he needed to get back to his room.

I came home, still delighted. It hadn’t been a perfect afternoon but it was better than nothing and I was very grateful for the presence of P. the nephew who visits Ants every weekend. He is so loyal and kind; he is a gift to Ants, Ming and me because of his sincerity and his love for Anthony.

The next day, another nephew (one who regularly visits Ants despite living 200 kms away), rang me to ask what was going on. I didn’t understand the question so he said that J. had rung various family members to come for drinks at the nursing home to say goodbye. I told him that J. and a couple of people had turned up but I hadn’t known why.

Apparently J. had decided to tell all of the family (except Ming and me) that Anthony was at death’s door. When I rang and confronted him, he explained that he just wanted to say goodbye.

“Try saying hello,” I said.

70 Comments »

Last Christmas

Last Christmas was the first Christmas that Ming and I didn’t bring Anthony home and, instead, exchanged gifts and food in the nursing home, where my mother joined us after church. She reminded me the other day that I had promised crayfish cocktail last year but failed to deliver; I think I was probably disheartened and just brought cheese and crackers. I don’t remember a lot about last Christmas except that Anthony was nonplussed by gifts given to him by Ming and me, and generally confused about how to open them; I do remember Ming being hurt and annoyed, and my own hot tears much later at home. It was horrible.

I am determined not to let this kind of scenario play out again this Christmas; if we can’t bring Ants home for Christmas, we will bring it to him, and this time I will do it properly. I will buy six crayfish a couple of days before Christmas and clean/de-shell them on Christmas Eve. Then I will make Anthony’s mother’s cocktail sauce (a secret-ish recipe!).

The real buzz for me is that Ming has agreed to allow me to do the pillow-case/sack thing for the last time. This means I can fill his special Christmas pillow-case with gifts just like Ants and I used to do when he was a bit younger (like a couple of years ago ha!) So Ming and I will wake up on Christmas morning and he will get some surprises and, hopefully, so will I. Then we will meet my mother at the nursing home for crayfish lunch after which Meg and Ming will probably go their separate ways and I will stay with Ants.

Anthony’s prostate cancer + Parkinson’s disease prognoses (both of which were determined several years ago), indicated that he would be probably be dead by now. So my wonderful husband – who never complains, who is never depressed, who never forgets me, who mentions Ming every hour I am with him – has exceeded his ‘use-by’ date.

Maybe this will be our last Christmas with Anthony; maybe not. In the meantime I’ve decided to take a bit of a break from blogging until after Christmas. I am messaging blog friends individually but this will take some time. If anything profound occurs to me I will put it on FB ha.

One of the most exciting things about Christmas is the Christmas Eve dinner at Meg’s (my mother’s) and this year we amount to around 20! My mother does the whole turkey roast thing and I usually bring the ham. Ashtyn Paterson (my niece) does the organisation of Secret Santa stuff. She is a legend!

12342721_10205047838777264_7881845001746518721_n

From L to R: me, Meg, and my nieces, Ash and Sage.

Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t be happy whilst Anthony is in this predicament; then I come to my senses and yesterday I even lingered at my brother’s place instead of rushing back to the nursing home. And the other week, I lingered in Perth to see my youngest brother, his wife and Special K and, despite the dramatic circumstances, I looked at this family and wanted them to adopt me.

In February next year, Anthony will turn 80. He is not in good health but he is in quietly good spirits. Will this be our last Christmas together?

56 Comments »

Anthony’s sense of humour

Yesterday my first-born nephew (I have six nephews on my side of the family), and his beautiful fiancĂ©, visited us in the nursing home. Jared has always had a soft spot for Anthony and vice versa. I didn’t tell Ants they were coming because I wanted it to be a surprise. It’s awhile since they’ve seen each other because Jared lives several hundred kilometres away, and Ants hadn’t met Carly yet. I was very excited, and a little bit nervous, about the visit.

When the young couple entered the room, I was in the middle of feeding Ants his tea; I jumped up and said, “Ants, Ants, it’s Jared; Jared’s here!”

Without the slightest hesitation, Anthony looked up at Jared and mumbled, “Well, I didn’t think it was Jesus Christ.” We all cracked up laughing, as I introduced Ants to Carly.

Anthony’s sense of humour, sometimes expressed in sentences that come out of a void of silence, always flabbergasts me. It can be a bit of a struggle for me to get Ants to talk, to smile, to even look at me. And yet, with a single remark he can have me laughing my head off!

Thanks, Jared and Carly; you two will now become a topic of conversation in the future. I will remind Anthony of his funny remark about Jared not being Jesus Christ, and, in my more contemplative moments, I will, perhaps, wonder if he was.

Anyway, back to Anthony’s sense of humour: I lightly kicked his shin as we were leaving and he said, with mock ferocity, “There’s no need for that!”

[Note to blogger friends: After my modem died and was replaced, my computer then died but has now been replaced, so I am very behind with reading other blogs and Fbook posts. In other words, I have fallen in love with the word ‘delete’ because there is too much to catch up on!]

7 Comments »

Sustenance

Anthony used to be a big eater. I remember one Christmas lunch at his brother’s house across the road where, as a bit of a joke, Anthony’s plate was piled impossibly high with food.

We all watched in awe as he consumed the lot. Afterwards, I had to take him back home to lie down and I remember being astonished at the size of his tummy; he looked like a pregnant woman. I also remember being a bit alarmed by his groans but unable to suppress my fits of laughter as I mopped his brow.

I don’t know if other members of his brother’s family remember this because it was probably about 30 years ago, but it is one of my funniest memories. Sometimes, now, when I am helping him with his lunch, I remind him and sometimes he remembers too.

Except for that day, Ants was never fat; robust and well-built, he was rather vain about his weight. He still is! Over the many years since being diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and prostate cancer he has lost over 20 kilos and I am rather jealous of his flat tummy. When I admit this, he proudly pats his, and then prods mine in a way that can only be construed as critical.

Anyway, he still loves his food. The main meal of the day at the nursing home is always wonderful; roasts feature regularly and Ants gobbles these up. The only trouble now is that he often needs help, which is why I try to be there by noon, or else get my mother to be there for me.

Dina (my decluttering friend) was there the other day and noticed that Anthony tended to poke at his meal, spilling some of it onto the tray. On another day, my mother told me that he didn’t touch the fish because it was white, the sauce was white, and the plate was white, so he just didn’t see it. On both occasions, he was helped of course.

As for me, I usually resort to feeding him. Yes, I get it about independence and all that but Anthony seems to have forgotten how to use cutlery and often doesn’t remember how to drink from a cup or glass, and the feeder cups seem to mystify him. Obviously, if none of us are there, staff will come to the rescue so that is very reassuring. His food is always cut up for him which is good but the fact that he seems to have forgotten how to negotiate fork-to-food-to-mouth is a bit alarming.

Our conversation the other day may, or may not, shed light on this newish problem. It was noon and a carer brought his lunch in and placed it on his tray.

Once I had unwrapped the meal from its foil and put the bib on Ants, I began to use a spoon to gather the first mouthful. As always, Ants asked me to eat some too; he wanted to share it. And then, looking at the plate of food, he began a rather bizarre conversation:

Anthony: Am I in there?
Me: Are you in where?
Anthony: In there [pointing to the meal]
Me: Do you want to be in there?
Anthony: Yes.
Me: Okay, let me check; yes, you are in there.
Anthony: Good.
Me: So are you okay to eat it now?
Anthony: Yes.
Me: So I am putting you back into you?
Anthony: Whatever you say.

It’s times like these that I remember the Anthony whose appetite for life enthralled me.

11 Comments »

“The Gift of Alzheimer’s”

This is the title of a book I am reading, written by Maggie La Tourelle. Maggie tells the story of the journey she and her mother share in which her mother’s Alzheimer’s actually enhances their relationship.

What I really like about this book is the way it de-tragifies dementia; gives fantastic examples of dialogues between kin; and even explores the spiritual possibilities beyond death.

Maggie’s conversations with her mother remind me so much of my conversations with Anthony that it has made me quite emotional (especially at 3am!) Their story is unlike ours in many ways but there are some fascinating parallels.

http://maggielatourelle.com

8 Comments »

3am

Sometimes I get up in the early hours, usually around 3am, and I watch some television, or reminisce myself back into sleep mode.

It is impossible to express how much I miss Anthony being here, in this house, on this/his farm; ‘longing’ is the best way I can describe it.

Often, my heart is tugged awake by this longing and sometimes I feel absolutely desperate to see him.

But sometimes I just don’t bother; I press my face into the pillows and try to avoid the day; I swallow the guilt with a glass of milk; I tell myself that he is in good hands; I sob.

Longing is a weird emotion; its nostalgia cuts into the throat of love, slicing page after page into new, fresh coherent sentences.

It is 3am. I am 15 kms away and wide awake.

I love you, Anthony.

25 Comments »

Another day with Anthony

After the fright of the other day when Ants was unconscious for so many hours (much longer than usual), I now realise that my being there every day is important. (Confession: I have been taking ‘days off’ here and there recently).

The first interesting thing about this is that, according to staff, relatives, and visitors, if I am not there, Anthony asks for me and is sometimes fretful.

The second interesting thing about this is the whole time warp thing: i.e. I rush in to see Ants on my way to getting the car serviced, seeing whether we have won lotto, buying chick starter etc. so it’s a very brief visit. And he always knows that I will be back soon, even when I don’t come back that day/night. Five minutes can equate to-and-fro with five hours – or vice versa.

The third interesting thing about this is Anthony’s daily mention of Ming. He never does this in a needy way; he is just always very curious and loves seeing photos of Ming, including Ming’s latest Halloween antics/costume at the restaurant where he works. These photos (as well as the photos of Ming on the walls of Anthony’s nursing home room) are always a buzz – “There he is!” Anthony will sometimes say.

When I told Ming about the frightening day, I cried because I was scared that we might lose Anthony suddenly (which, of course, we will). In telling Ming about my day with Anthony, I realised, and saw, how alike they are: generous, sensitive, gregarious, easy-going, beautiful.

Another day with Anthony…
… enhanced by the fact of Ming.

26 Comments »

“Handsome man!”

One of the staff at the nursing home always makes a point of greeting Anthony with “Handsome man!” Her wide, glorious smile almost always elicits his own smile and today that was the case.

The simplicity and constancy of this gesture is extremely comforting for me too, because I know she, and so many other staff, care about him. Genuinely.

A recent conversation:

Anthony: They love you. They always ask for you – they say, ‘Where is Julie? Where is your wife?’

Me: No, it’s you they love, not me, silly!

Anthony: No, it’s you! They always want a Julie in the room.

This afternoon, Anthony was extremely lucid until around 4.30pm when he kept ‘seeing’ me on his right hand side, when I was on the left, and vice versa.

Anthony: Where is Julie?

Me: You mean me?

Anthony: Oh there you are!

And that was when she came back – this beautiful staff member – and said those magic words:

Handsome man!

16 Comments »

This, that….

20150927_143929This,
that….

Well I got back from Perth last week and the first thing I did was to rush to my new beaut vegetable garden and also check the chooks. I fed and watered both with a sense of quiet glee.

The second thing I did was to go inside and log on. When nothing happened I didn’t panic since all the green lights were indicating merrily that the internet wasn’t too far away.

Six hours later, having spoken to six different technical support people, all of whom were amazingly patient, kind and positive (with the exception of one woman whose sighs, when I didn’t understand her click34xcableetc instructions, became thunderous on loudspeaker) were confident.

At one point, during this ungleeful, longwinded experience, I rang Ming who said that when he got home he’d sort it out in a jiffy. Well he tried, and even spoke to other technical support people, to no avail.

The Ming then said, with great compassion and a generous hug, “Maybe you’re just not intelligent enough, Mum….?”

I let his observation linger for the ten days during which I had no internet except via my phone. When I began to get the 5s mixed us with the Ss, I gave up.

Anyway, yesterday the replacement modem arrived at the post office and Ming picked it up, brought it home, connected it and voila!

So what am I supposed to do now? I can’t possibly answer all of the zillions of emails and comments and facebooky stuff; I can’t possibly catch up on ten days of my blog friends’ blogs; I can’t even catch up with what I was going to do before I lost the internet because my blog kind of reminded me of what to do.

I survived my ten day blip of no internet, but the person most affected by my off-the-internet-radar status was my beautiful mother. Meg and I have a strong internet relationship via email and Facebook, but she is more attentive to messages than I am, so, when I lost the internet, she was the first to miss me.

And today is her birthday. She is 81, looks 61 and acts like 21. So today Meg came to the farm to see the vegetable garden then we went to a local winery for lunch. The secret surprise was that Ming and A. would join us and that was a fantastic thing!

It’s great to be blogging again. That internet blip taught me something really profound: I need the internet!

One of the hardest things for me now is having fun – the guilt of it. Lunches with friends, learning how to garden with new friends, figuring out the future, altering and/or discarding things in this old house, renewing ….

This,
that,
and the other….

51 Comments »

The suffering conundrum

I just don’t get it. Why does one person cop multiple illnesses? And why does this seem to happen to the beautiful people?

Later this week I will be travelling to Perth to meet my friend at the airport, after which we will spend two luxurious nights at a resort. During the days, I will take my friend to her medical appointments; in the evenings we will sip wine, eat pizza, and reminisce.

She was the first kid to say hello to me on the bus to school after my family moved from PNG to Australia. Since then, we have had years of little contact due to busyness, geography etc. but, more recently, have reconnected.

‘How is it possible for you to still laugh?’ I asked her on the phone tonight, to which she replied with her laugh.

My friend suffers severe eye conditions and an unhealed broken foot and yet she can still maintain laughter within her suffering. How does she do this?

I haven’t mentioned her name because she is very private but I so wish I could salute her publicly because she is amazingly philosophical and pragmatic.

And maybe she and I will make a bit of sense out of the suffering conundrum when we see each other in a couple of days. I can’t wait!

IMG_4888

Sorry about that image. Prince always seems to want to give me the back view. Here is a better view.

IMG_4897

35 Comments »