jmgoyder

wings and things

Imagined conversation 20

Anthony: Who are all of these men you keep thinking about?

Me: Will you please STOP reading my mind like that; it’s so disconcerting!

Anthony: Well, who are they?

Me: If you can read my mind, surely you know who they are.

Anthony: But I want to hear it from you, Jules.

Me: Okay, they are just a bunch of CEOs, film executives, producers and….

Anthony: I don’t like it.

Me: What? I thought you’d be proud of me!

Anthony: [potent silence]

Me: Oh. My. God. Are you actually jealous? I can’t believe it. Yes, you are jealous, aren’t you!

Anthony: Well I am a bit, actually. I don’t want you to want them to like you; it doesn’t feel right.

Me: Ants, there is absolutely nothing romantic going on, I can assure you. It’s you I want them to like, not me!

Anthony: That’s good then.

Me: So are we clear now?

Anthony: Sorry, Jules. I just don’t want to lose you.

Me: You couldn’t lose me even if you wanted to, Ants.

Anthony: So what do all of those guys think of me?

Me: They think you are wonderful, Ants – absolutely wonderful! Star material!

Anthony: You are so full of BS Jules.

Me: I’m meeting one of them tonight for cocktails because….

Anthony: For God’s sake, Jules – don’t do anything stupid.

Me: Gotcha!

 

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Imagined conversation 19

Me: Ants, you won’t believe it!

Anthony: Try me.

Me: It’s a bit of a long story and I don’t know where to start and I am so excited!

Anthony: Jules?

Me: What?

Anthony: I have all the time in the world.

Me: Well I got short-listed for a group that got to talk to film industry professionals and tomorrow I get to pitch my idea about how I coped with the dementia stuff.

Anthony: What dementia stuff?

Me: Whoops! Okay, well your dementia stuff. Okay so now that you’re in heaven or wherever the hell you are, do you remember having dementia?

Anthony: What a lot of rubbish, Jules. Of course I didn’t have dementia.

Me: Yes, you did actually.

Anthony: No, I didn’t.

Me: You just didn’t know you had it and I never told you.

Anthony: You really are a whimsical creature aren’t you, Jules.

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Imagined conversation 18

Me: Hi, Ants.

Anthony: JULES! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?

Me: Here and there – lots to tell you but I can’t be bothered.

Anthony: Why?

Me: This whole grief thing is absolutely exhausting, Ants – it just goes on and on and on and on and, as soon as I think I am over you, and able to move forward, it all begins again.

Anthony: What begins again?

Me: I just said! Oh, what’s the point?

Anthony: Sorry, Jules – you now have my undivided attention.

Me: Let me guess; you were playing poker with your mum, right? Or are you just frolicking naked in your own puffed up cloud?

Anthony: Ahh – you know me well, Jules.

Me: But do you know me, Ants? Did you ever know me? I had a horrible nightmare last night where I discovered you had been unfaithful to me multiple times with multiple previous girlfriends and you somehow did all of this from your nursing home room even though you were bedridden.

Anthony: Yes, I saw that dream too and – sorry, Jules –  but I did find it quite invigorating.

Me: So did you get to the bit in the dream where I decided to divorce you?

Anthony: No, but I did see your anxious face, Jules.

Me: I keep waking up to the question of what will happen in the end and it always takes me several seconds to realise that we are already at the end. You died.

Anthony: I didn’t intend to die, Jules.

Me: A bit of warning would have been good, Ants.

Anthony: Jules, please! I didn’t know any more than you did.

Me: Hi, Ants….

 

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Imagined conversation 15

Anthony: JULES! HI!

Me: Wow, you beat me to it – I was just figuring out how to say hi after so long.

Anthony: What kept you so long?

Me: Well, Mother and I went to Sydney for L’s wedding and on the way up to the airport my car starting playing up.

Anthony: Your car?

Me: Okay, our car. Anyway so we got to the airport to find that our midnight flight had been cancelled. Can you believe it?

Anthony: Well you do live on Earth, Jules….

Me: So I ended up queuing for over an hour to find out what was what and I left Mother on a seat with the luggage and … long story short we end up paying a fortune in a taxi ride to a motel at around 2am and then….

Anthony: I actually know all about it, Jules.

Me: What? That Mother was so sick you mean, and that she pretended not to be sick so we could still go to the wedding?

Anthony: Yep – I saw it all from on high.

Me: So you were hovering unhelpfully over Katoomba Hospital when we finally got her admitted? Thanks for the help NOT!

Anthony: You know me, I don’t like to interfere in these mother/daughter escapades.

Me: So where were you when we finally got back and she ended up in hospital again?

Anthony: Sorry, Jules, I was playing poker.

Me: Anyway she’s finally coming good and has been discharged with a pile of meds.

Anthony: I know.

Me: So if you already know all of this, what’s the point of telling you?

Anthony: I like the sound of your voice.

Me: I actually thought she might die, Ants!

Anthony: Death hasn’t done any harm to me. Tell her I’m as fit as a fiddle.

Me: I love you, Ants.

Anthony: I love you too, Jules. Keep up the good fight.

Me: What?

Anthony: It’s from a hymn I’m learning.

Me: Why are you learning a hymn?

Anthony: My deep baritone seems to have caught the attention of the choir woman. Jules?

Me: Yes, Ants.

Anthony: Tell your mother I said hello and to take it easy.

Me: Okay … thanks, Ants. Oh and about our car….

Anthony: Yes, good idea to book it in for a check-up.

Me: Are you always going to be one step ahead of me, Ants?

Anthony: ‘Fraid so, Jules.

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Imagined conversation 13

Me: I did something a bit spontaneous today, Ants.

Anthony: That’s unusual, Jules.

Me: I bought myself a silver bangle – from you to me. It’s kind of a combination of a Christmas and birthday present. It’s nothing to do with Valentine’s day, I promise.

Anthony: Thanks for letting me know.

Me: Oh thank you so, so, so, much for it, Ants. I love it!

Anthony: My pleasure, Jules, you deserve it.

Me: Well, yes, I think I do too because you know the last few years when you always asked me to go and get myself a silver bangle for my birthday….

Anthony: I’m glad I could be of service.

Me: No, you don’t get it Ants, I only pretended to buy myself those bangles because I didn’t want to spend the money.

Anthony: What a good disciple you are.

Me: Yeah, so I would wear an old bangle that you’d bought me years ago, and you bought me heaps, remember? You even chose them.

Anthony: I have impeccable taste. You tend to like chunky, showy jewellery.

Me: That’s a horrible thing to say and not true at all!

Anthony: I prefer the subtle nuances of the bracelet myself.

Me: Anyway so I was having a coffee in town at a new place (I’m trying to get out and about more because that’s what people keep telling me to do) and I just happened to look up and there was the shop – Baroque Design Jewellery Studio – and, whammo, I felt this sudden, nostalgic urge that you wanted me to go there.

Anthony: I had nothing to do with it, Jules. You have an overactive imagination.

Me: Are you sure? I mean the urge was so strong and I walked in and reminded Tim that I was the girl (yeah I know I should have said ‘woman’ not ‘girl’, how embarrassing) who used to come once a year to buy a silver bangle, or bracelet, as a gift to myself from my adoring husband who wasn’t well enough to accompany me.

Anthony: A likely story.

Me: Are you even listening to me!

Anthony: Sorry – wondering when you’re going to get to the point. Is it afternoon tea time yet? I’d love a coffee.

Me: As soon as I saw the silver cuff I knew it was the one.

Anthony: The one what?

Me: The bangle that you would have wanted to give me….

Anthony: I’m sure it was, Jules….

Me: So I explained to Tim that the reason I hadn’t been into his shop for a few years was because you weren’t well and you were in a nursing home.

Anthony: I remember him – great bloke.

Me: I didn’t tell him I’d been wearing bangles you’d bought me years ago, pretending they were brand new.

Anthony: You didn’t tell me either.

Me: Well, I’m telling you now! So that’s why I figure I am kind of owed around four years worth of bangles maybe.

Anthony: Interesting logic.

Me: And then I told Tim you’d died and could he give me a discount for being a bereaved widow. I didn’t really mean to say that, it just popped out so I explained that you’d taught me the art of bargaining, or is it bartering, and he said you’d be proud of me and he knocked off a third of the price!

Anthony: Amazing.

Me: It’s not amazing; it’s amazing! Are there any exclamation mark classes where you are because you really need to lift your game.

Anthony: Show me the bangle and I’ll give you my opinion.

Me: See? Here it is, Ants. It’s a cuff; I’ve never had one before. Thank you!

Anthony: Why are you so excited?

Me: Because you gave me a gift and it marks the first year of me surviving without you.

Anthony: I actually haven’t been dead for a year yet but, what the hell, you’re right, Jules, it’s a lovely piece of work. Get it engraved.

Me: Really? Are you sure? So, something like ‘To my darling Julie, with all my love, from her eternally-besotted husband, Anthony’?

Anthony (laughing): No.

Me (laughing): What then?

Anthony: Just our initials will do.

[Note: Tim Cunningham is the jeweller at Baroque. He was so kind to me today. Perhaps he sensed that just underneath my excitement at buying the silver cuff was the devastation of having lost the physical presence of Anthony. Anyway, I asked Tim if it would be okay to share his website here and he said yes so here it is: baroquedesign.com.au]

 

 

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Facing forever

In amongst what I thought was old paperwork, I found a recently purchased ‘Reflections Journal’ in which I had written the following:

Monday 21st August, 2017: The gift of breath is a beautiful thing.

I don’t know why I wrote that now. I was probably deciding to go on a new diet, planning an exercise program for myself, or else thinking about thinking about the benefits of meditation.

People like me (with elderly loved ones in nursing homes with diseases like Parkinson’s and Dementia) should be more prepared for Death.

I wasn’t.

Wednesday, 23rd August, 2017: Anthony died. I didn’t write this in the Reflections Journal; I just wrote it in my day-to-day diary because I couldn’t find anywhere else to write/think/say it. I listed ‘Anthony died’ with a shopping list of milk, bread, apples and bananas.

After so many years of nearly dying, my beautiful husband did actually die and, even after nearly six months, I can’t quite fathom this.

I am not in denial and I know Anthony is dead. I miss him to the point of debilitating depression but, at the same time, I can feel some sort of weird, encouraging, wave; he was so resilient, and lackadaisical, and a master of calmness, easy-goingness, acceptance. Ming and I are so lucky to have this legendary husband and father to teach us about fortitude.

Ming and I have this new tradition of having breakfast together and, this morning, we talked about Anthony. It’s my birthday and for years Ants bought me a silver bangle (which I would choose!) It didn’t seem necessary this year; there didn’t seem any point.

So I didn’t buy myself a pretend gift from Anthony; it just didn’t sit well with me because he was so ill for so many years (even before the many years in the nursing home) that I just thought enough was enough. I did, however, buy myself an on-sale Oroton handbag that Anthony would have approved of.

The idea of forever (without Ants) is bleak, yes, but it is also an inevitable challenge that I am willing to meet. As a small child, I wanted wisdom so I guess this is it!

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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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Lonely

I used to brag to people that I wasn’t lonely, that I was comfortable with being alone, and comfortable with my own company. But, since Anthony has been in the nursing home – nearly six years now – I have experienced such a piercing loneliness, and a longing for him to be home again (impossible) that sometimes I want to howl like an abandoned, injured animal. We are on 100 acres of farmland so, with no close neighbours, sometimes I do howl. I try very hard not to do this in front of Ming but sometimes it just happens – the uninhibited grief, the howl of longing for the impossibility of Anthony coming back home, the absolute misery of our situation.

On the other hand, I am not willing to give in to this kind of despair and I am determined to continue to make myself at home in Anthony’s nursing home room.

I would never want him to be as lonely as I am.

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Happiness

In just over a week, Ming and I are off to Sydney to speak at a conference. Check out the link!

http://www.happinessanditscauses.com.au/

The title of our talk is – yes, you guessed it – “Dementia Dialogues”. I am hoping to convince the audience that it is still sometimes possible to derive, and give, great joy within the context of Dementia. Ming and I are simply going to cite a few examples of the funny and poignant conversations we share with Anthony. We only have a 15-minute slot, so our talk has to be succinct, a bit like a TED talk I guess.

I emphasised the word “sometimes” above because I am well aware that our own experience of Anthony’s Dementia is not necessarily like other people’s and I recognise how lucky we are to have a husband/father who is so resilient. The other day, when I got to the nursing home earlier than usual, and was able to feed Anthony his breakfast in bed, I asked him if he was comfortable and he whispered a booming “EXTREMELY!”

Anthony’s sanguine nature is a wonderful ‘plus’ when it comes to Dementia but every single person who has Dementia is just as individual as those of us without Dementia. Now that I am involved in support groups for carers, I have heard a fair few horror stories and I do remember our own horror story before Anthony’s admission to the nursing home. So I guess another point I want to emphasise in our conference talk is that the idea of placing a loved one in a nursing home needn’t be a tragedy.

I haven’t blogged for so long that now I’m rambling – ha! It’s good to get the words out. Now I just have to prepare for the conference – yikes!

 

 

 

 

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New kid on the block (and the reason I haven’t been blogging lately)

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Well, here she is – Pip – a miniature schnauzer who is just eight weeks old. Once she has had her next vaccinations, I will be able to take her with me to see Anthony and other people.

The story behind her name: years before Anthony and I were married, I lived in a little cottage a few kilometres from his farm. I was undertaking my first year of university studies and feeling, I guess, a bit isolated. I was also suffering a severe case of ongoing unrequited love for this beautiful but idiotic older man who, instead of proposing, bought me a miniature dachshund puppy that we called Pip.

That Pip was the most beautiful gift, and the best friend I had ever had until she died many years later.

I was recently reminded (via a photo) of the special bond I had with that first Pip and how her company helped me through doing all of those assignments in that small cottage all alone. I was only in my 20s then and terribly naïve; I couldn’t understand why Anthony didn’t love me back. It is only in retrospect that I realise how taboo it would have been for him, a middle-aged farmer, to contemplate a romance with me.

So, instead, he gave me Pip.

And now we have a new Pip and I am, once again, not alone.

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