jmgoyder

wings and things

I am so cool!

I feel the heat terribly and, as some of my friends may remember, a couple of summers ago, I developed a condition called “pompholyx“.

(Warning: if you click on the above link you might be grossed out by the pictures, just as I was by the condition).

Anyway, since one of the triggers is excessive perspiration, which I vividly remember my dad having and now it’s obviously my turn, I made a big decision. Air conditioning!

I pretty much live in my writing room, which used to be Gar’s bedroom (Anthony’s mother). Anyway, her 1970s air conditioner died last year, so last week I made the call and the aircon. guys and the electrician installed it this morning. It’s not a particularly hot day (only in the mid-20s C), but as I waved my saviours goodbye, I was already dripping, despite wearing a sweatband.

And now? Ahhh, the bliss of being so cool and the comfort of knowing that when the temperature hits 40 degrees (any time soon as summer approaches), I will have a safe haven! Okay so, in the big scheme of things, pompholyx may not seem like such a serious condition but it drove me quite mad for months a couple of years ago.

I was reminding our doctor the other day and he immediately looked at my hands where, during a funny little heatwave last week, the blisters had begun to appear.

Me: You can’t see them now – I scratched them off and it wasn’t that bad.

Doctor: Mmmmm.

Me: But I can feel them coming back – the blisters. So I think I might need botox to stop me sweating? I read about that possibility.

Doctor: No. I’ll order some blood tests; it could be hormonal.

Me: Yes, of course, but I don’t think it’s just menopausalish because I perspire a hell of a lot more than any of my equally menopausal friends!

Doctor: Mmmmm.

Me: And remember how we discussed cranio-facial hyper-hydrosis, or whatever you call it, last year? That’s me! It’s just my face, head and hands – the rest of me sweats normally.

Doctor: Mmmmm.

Okay so the doctor doesn’t do the mmmmmm thing loudly but it’s definitely a component of our conversations, with a chuckle here and there. I much prefer the mmmmm.

Anyway, as the young aircon. guys were leaving, I apologised for the peacock noise (it’s spring, so they are yaaaaawking constantly). One of the guys said ‘They are so cool!’

I agree and here are a couple of shots of Prince minus his back view!
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As this beautiful white peacock does his twirling, fanning, wonderful dance, his feathers muscle their way into the breeze and sing:

I am so cool!

49 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!

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

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35 Comments »

Cycling!

I have discovered a route around this countryside that is hopefully truck-free; I have bought a new bicycle pump; I have dusted the cobwebs of my bicycle; I have made myself determined ….

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Argh!

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Full of beans!

A long lost dream is coming true via a tall man with red hair, named Dan, whose business is called Full of Beans. Thanks to him, my vegetable garden is being created! If it weren’t for being invited to join the gardening group I would never have known about him, so I am very grateful. Ironically, I can’t attend tomorrow’s get-together because Dan is coming back to do the planting and I want to learn.

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One of the things that really appeals to me about Full of Beans is that it provides an ongoing maintenance service for gardening novices like me.

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Okay, so gardening friends far and wide may see this as a kind of cheating on my part (employing someone to make me a vegetable garden) but oh well. I am already crazy about what Dan has begun to create and can hardly contain my excitement.

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Anthony was an avid gardener, despite not having much time, with milking the cows and looking after his mother. Nevertheless almost everything he planted, over 50 years ago, still survives. But he was never the least bit interested in growing vegetables. A couple of years into our marriage, I asked for a vegetable garden but he said there was no room. I argued that there was plenty of room (5 acres around the house!) to no avail.

And, as Ming grew up into an adolescent, he formed the same opinion. It was just a small dream of mine but neither of them would have a bar of it. That’s okay; they just weren’t interested and maybe didn’t realise how much I wanted the vegetable garden. I couldn’t do it by myself so one year my brother came out and dug me a patch and every single gigantic zucchini gave me a thrill. But that went by the wayside in the face of Anthony’s mysterious deterioration in health (we didn’t know about his Parkinson’s then) and the fact that I was working full-time that year.

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Now that Anthony is no longer cognisant of our shared reality; now that Ming is in a fantastic relationship; now that I am learning how to be completely alone, a vegetable garden seems profound.

A long lost dream is coming true via a tall man with red hair, named Dan, whose business is called Full of Beans.

http://www.fullofbeans.com.au

44 Comments »

Ordinary

For the last several weeks I have been making pot after pot of pea and ham soup, freezing it in little batches, or serving it to friends and family, but mainly eating it myself. I just can’t seem to get enough of it!

I take it into the nursing home and share it with Anthony often. He is a ruthless great food critic. Some of my experimental additions weren’t very successful; for example, the addition of chilli, mint, capsicums and curry powder didn’t work. I mean it was edible, but it just wasn’t pea and ham soup the way it’s supposed to be, you know?

Having run out of my last batch, I over-enthusiastically over-filled the slow cooker and had to transfer half of the ingredients to another big saucepan before the kitchen floor became a lake of pea and ham soup. So now I have two simmering pots filling the empty house with aroma.

The usual ingredients are split peas, chopped vegetables (onions, garlic, celery, but not capsicums) and, of course, a ham hock. But I do have one extra secret ingredient and I think this makes MY pea and ham soup superior, ha!

Tomorrow, the answer to this conundrum will be posted, as well as a photo shoot of the finished soup. I am hoping that, universally, kitchens, restaurants, food journalists, and people with nothing else to do, will clamour at my blog-door.

But that probably won’t happen because I’ll take a small batch of this big new batch of pea and ham soup into the nursing home and Anthony will taste it and just say, “Not bad” and then we will have the following argument:

Me: What do you mean ‘Not bad’? Why can’t you ever say it’s fantastic or wonderful?

Anthony: Because it’s, well ….

Me: What?

Anthony: Ordinary.

Almost every day, I go in and sit next to Ants, watch television, chill out, answer emails, wrestle with my iPad, for several hours – and he and I have these strange, fragmented, haphazard, conversations. Sometimes it seems really lazy to just sit there with him, always with my hand on his arm, watching Dr Phil then going back to our current series, West Wing.

He is sleepier and sleepier every day this week. I wonder what next week will be like apart from a surplus of pea and ham soup.

Next week will be ordinary, and ordinary is a joy.

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‘Doggone!’

I’m sure Blaze was calmer last time I took him into the nursing home to see Anthony. This time, instead of following me in, he ran across the road to a block of flats and wouldn’t come back until I sat down in the parking lot and pretended I had food in my handbag.

Once I’d grabbed him, I carried him into the nursing home to see Ants. I had envisioned a cosy afternoon watching television with Blaze on Anthony’s lap, snoozing. But Anthony was in the dining room and, despite staff being able to get him to shuffle, using his walker, nearly all the way to his room, both a wheelchair and the hoist were eventually required to plonk him into his armchair. In the meantime Blaze and I went out into the back garden area, then visited a couple of the residents, then sat in the foyer.

When Ants was settled, I carried Blaze in and shut the door wishing I’d persevered in trying to find his leash. He was too excited to stay on Ants’ lap for long and kept wandering around curiously and trying to get out. He’d been patted and admired by staff and residents so I guess he wanted a bit more action. I accidentally shot a whole lot of little videos when I was actually trying to take a photo. The following is the only one that doesn’t include my expletive-ridden “Why won’t this camera work?”

Giving up on the camera, I took about 50 photos with my phone, which all look exactly like this one.

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Fake caption: Man’s best friend.
Real caption: Jules, take this bloody dog away!

In light of this remark, and, after Blaze had done several hundred laps of Anthony’s room and bathroom, refused to relax on Anthony’s knees, turned his nose up at the water in the water bowl I’d brought in, I decided it might be time to go.

It was at this point that I realised there was a power failure because I couldn’t get Anthony’s television to cooperate. Then I got a text from my mother asking me if I were coming to my brother’s barbecue. I answered saying I thought the barbecue was the next day and I had Blaze so might only be able to drop in for a quick drink.

Unfortunately, my departure from the nursing home was delayed when I couldn’t find my car keys. It was suggested by several Blaze-loving staff that I could re-trace my steps. So I shut Blaze and Ants into Anthony’s room and went back to the flats where Blaze had first run away. No keys. I then went back to my car and looked underneath. No keys. Back inside the nursing home, I went back to all of the residents I’d visited. No keys. I went outside to the garden. No keys. I went back to Ants’ room to find them both nonplussed as I emptied my handbag of all its contents. No keys. I rang my mother and said, “No keys”.

Finally (an hour and a half after annoying everyone in my vicinity, especially Ants!) I remembered sitting in the foyer with Blaze. With hope hugging my heart, I shut Blaze in with Ants and ventured to the foyer and … there they were!

I said a (b)elated goodbye to all, gave Ants a big kiss, and came home, promising myself I would never take Blaze into the nursing home again without a leash; and never ever again lose my car keys.

Today, the latter has already happened!

33 Comments »

Ago

‘Ago’ is a word I have never thought about until this afternoon. Now, I miss ago.

Lately, I haven’t been able to find the right words to describe Anthony’s condition as it ebbs away. A few days ago, he was so incredibly, cheekily, the Ants from many years ago; the next day he was like someone comatosed; today, as I left, he asked me to get four pieces of steak for tea.

Physically, he and I both cope well. After all, at the moment, Ants has very little physical pain, and me being a young girl (ha!) of 56, driving from farm to town to see him is not a big deal.

One of the many lovely staff at the nursing home sent me this picture of Ants during an animal visit activity. Thank you so much Chloe!

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This has inspired me to take Blaze (mini-dachshund) in to see Ants tomorrow again. Blaze (son of Inky 2 and Doc 4) will remind us of once ago.

Long
ago.

20 Comments »

Swings and roundabouts 3

We had a couple of family gatherings on the weekend. On Saturday it was my first great niece’s birthday party. Neve, my oldest brother’s first grandchild, is already, at 2, very stylish, so I bought her a multi-coloured tutu which her mother says she loves. The finding of this tutu was somewhat serendipitous because on the day before the party, my friend (E. from the nursing home, who I wrote about a few posts back), had set up a stall of her crafts, including tutus! And, just before she packed up I found the perfect one for Neve. I am kicking myself for forgetting to take a photo of that tutu – oh well.

Then, on Sunday, we had another family gathering at the home of another crafty person – my mother. One of the purposes of this pizza + cheesecake lunch was for family members from down south, and in-laws from Scotland, to get their first glimpse of my first great nephew, Spencer. And it was a great glimpse as you can see in this photo of my youngest brother with his first great nephew.

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Like E. (oh to hell with anonymity – her real name is Ellen) my mother, Meg, is talented in the art of craft, her own speciality being hairpin lace. Here is a picture of Spencer in his Meg-made baby shawl.

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And the above scanned picture is a newspaper article from a few years ago that featured my mother’s hairpin lace baby shawls! I thought she was going to get famous (I was going to be her rich agent!) but I guess baby shawls are not in the category of investment, especially if they are burped upon.

There are two more babies-on-the-way in my family now so my mother will be busy with hairpin lace once again. In the last 12 months around eight of the nursing staff have had babies and we gave them all a shawl; I paid for the wool and my mother did the craft.

Okay, I need to bring this to a coherent conclusion but I can’t be bothered with coherent. Prince is still trying to impress the indifferent chooks to no avail….

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The last time Anthony came to a family occasion was about two years ago and it was a horrible experience – the wheelchair taxi, my family’s empathy, my tears on his departure. When I look back, I am in awe of how we tried always to include Ants in every family gathering … until it just became impossible.

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Martha: She’s forgotten to get the laying pellets again.
Mary: What? I’m starving!
Prince: Will you two just shut up!

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Happy birthday, Neve!
Happy arrival, Spencer!

16 Comments »

Swings and roundabouts

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Yesterday I said, rather blithely, “I refuse to be sad” (about Anthony’s Parkinson’s disease etc.). This morning I realised why it’s possible for me to say this.

Anthony isn’t sad!

It’s as simple as that. Okay, so saddish moments come and go, and the first year of him being in the nursing home was a hell of mutual sorrow. But, in retrospect, it was me shedding most of the tears, not Anthony. In fact often, when I left to come home, he would comfort me.

But it’s now that matters and in-the-now neither of us is sad, which is a bit of a miracle really. The weird irony is that I would not be able to cope with Anthony’s illnesses if it weren’t for his own emotional resilience. I’m not very good at emotional resilience, but Ants is.

People often think that the person in the nursing home is the vulnerable one and that he or she is the one in need of comfort. But sometimes it’s the other way around; it’s the visiting spouse or daughter, or grandson, or friend, who is in need of comfort.

Anthony comforts me!

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17 Comments »

The ‘climate change’ of Parkinson’s disease

I sometimes joke with various staff that Anthony’s ‘thermostat’ is faulty. I’m not sure why I do this jokey thing because it’s not funny and it’s one of the things that I worry about most.

Mostly, Anthony is freezing cold during the day – regardless of what the temperature is outside – and boiling hot during the night (again, regardless of the temperature).

So, as we enter Spring, it might be humid outside, and cool inside the nursing home. But, regardless of whatever temperature it is in reality, Anthony’s body temperature is almost always uncooperative/opposite/unpredictable.

When Ants was still at home, we lit the fireplace fire, the Aga, turned multiple heaters on, and even got air conditioning in the living room. But I could never get him warm enough!

During the days, all of this heating would be on and I would cover Ants’ knees with a blanket, light the fire etc., but he would still be cold.

Conversely, during the nights, Ants would be so hot and sweaty that I would have to take his blankets off and put the fan on.

A couple of the staff have told me about how hot and clammy he is when they put him to bed, so I bought a bunch of singlets in the hope they they will ‘magic away’ these temperature fluctuations.

It really bothers me though. Apart from me worrying about whether Anthony is too hot or too cold, I also worry that he has now reached the stage of not being able to tell anybody that he is too hot or too cold.

Anthony never complains about his illness, about being in a nursing home, about staff, about anything; he is the most resilient person I know.

I wish I could show the world what Anthony used to be like – LOUD, gregarious, kind, generous … and a zillion other adjectives!

PD doesn’t have to be sad. Okay I am struggling with Anthony’s PD and trying to figure a lot of things out, like this thermostat conundrum, but I refuse to be sad ….

…. because I have met some friends now who help me to cope and their kindness is extraordinary – the staff at the nursing home!

15 Comments »