jmgoyder

wings and things

A problem is a problem

I can’t call a problem a challenge because, to me, a challenge implies something zingily positive whereas a problem is something devoid of zing. It seems more useful to see some of the problems I am facing, with Anthony in the nursing lodge, as problems. I guess I’m not very ‘new age’ – sorry but no matter how many daisies surround a cowpat, it is still a cowpat and it stinks.

So, as most of my ideas of how to cheer Anthony up have fallen fairly flat (reading/showing him the blog, taking old photographs in, buying him the gramophone, going out to lunch, bringing him home etc.), I have decided to establish a strict routine every week and write it down for him, and me, and stick to it. This will be good for both of us because, my own personal turmoil, grief, loss of job, and Ming challenges (yes, I can call these challenges), has caused me to lose all semblance of a routine.

Maybe a whiteboard would be a good idea. I could put it on Anthony’s wall in the nursing lodge and write down exactly what day and time I am coming in, and other plans. I could also write our home phone number (which he mostly can’t remember) so he can ring me for a change. Actually I could also write down the phone numbers of his favourite friends and family on the whiteboard. These are in a notebook in one of his drawers but he keeps losing this, or not understanding it.

Perhaps the daisies will grown into the cowpat and give it a new odour. You never know! Nevertheless, a cowpat is a cowpat and problems are problems, not challenges.

Godfrey has a challenge in teaching the gang ‘Gangnam’ dance moves.

Daffy has a problem with loneliness because he is the only Indian runner duck left.

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This is what peacocks sound like!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MhZPqHeEAQ

Multiply this by about ten and you will know what it is like here during mating season!

Ah, this is more like it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qY8-HooF9I&NR=1&feature=endscreen

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Love story 110 – Inseparable

Less than two years ago it was unthinkable that the day would come where Anthony would have to go into a nursing lodge. I vividly remember making a secret appointment with our doctor to discuss his deterioration and, after arranging Silver Chain respite help that day, Ming and I went into town. During the conversation with the doctor, he mentioned the inevitability of nursing home care and Ming, nearly crying, said, “No, we will never put Dad into care.” The doctor gently said to him, “You don’t know what is coming.”

And we didn’t. All three of us could never have predicted how bad it would get – hallucinations, immobility, stroke-like episodes, falls, loss of hand/eye coordination, confusion, nightmare horrors, sleepless nights, sleep-filled days, loss of appetite, subsequent dramatic weight loss, confusion, cognitive problems, ablutionary problems … and the list goes on. Ming transformed from a devoted son to an intolerant son and I transformed from a devoted wife to a physical and mental wreck. But I only see that now – in hindsight.

The things I wish:

  • that I had stopped asking Ming to do occasional ‘night shifts’ with Ants while Ming was still at school;
  • that I had discussed nursing home/lodge possibilities with Ants earlier (he was assessed as a candidate for ‘high care’ over four years ago); and
  • that I had broached the subject of death with both of them earlier.

Bubble and Baby Turkey are inseparable but I think this is because, initially, there were four Bubbles and four Baby Turkeys and (except for these two) the foxes got all of them when they were littler despite my vigilance.

Ants, Ming and I were inseparable too until Parkinson’s disease began to steal pieces of our jigsaw. Ming took a few leftover pieces, went into his room and shut the door; I tried to find some of the pieces of a blue sky, but they all looked the same; and Ants never liked jigsaws in the first place.

This photo was taken a few years ago when we were inseparable.

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Head shots

We are being visited by more and more pink and gray galahs. Here is a head shot of two of them. I would like to say this is deliberate but of course it isn’t; it is my poor photography skills. This afternoon I will try to get the rest of the birds into the photo – you never know!

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Breaking news: White peacock chases Indian runner duck!

Ahhh – it’s Spring!

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The wheelchair taxi woman

When Anthony has been wheelchair-taxied home and back he has had a variety of drivers. One of those drivers is a lovely woman who dropped in unexpectedly yesterday morning on her day off to ask about buying peachicks. We exchanged phone numbers so that I could ring her if we are lucky to get any hatchlings but admitted that I wasn’t sure what the chances were due to our fox problem. Also the peafowl are very independent so I don’t know if and where the peahens are laying (I obviously need to do some research!)

Anyway, during our short conversation, she asked when ‘hubby’ was coming home again and I said I had begun to think this was a bad idea because it upset him so much to go back to the nursing lodge after being here with us. She disagreed and said that even though he is upset each time she takes him back, it is well worth it for his sake, to be home even if it’s only briefly. “It’s the same for every person,” she said, “Don’t stop bringing him home.”

So guess what? Anthony is being wheelchair-taxied home in around 2 hours, for lunch and the afternoon.  Wish us luck!

Oh no – I better hurry up and hide those two pots with the dead azaleas in them! On the other hand, Anthony does know that I am not a gardener.

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I am pregnant!

I bet that shocked you! Of course I am not pregnant; after all I am 53 and Anthony is in a nursing lodge. But I keep having dreams about being pregnant and they are so real that I wake up in the morning and am surprised that I am not pregnant.

Last night, everything in the dream was initially as it is in real life: Ants was in the nursing lodge and Ming was 18. Then it got really bizarre because in the dream I had only just given birth to a beautiful little girl, to find myself pregnant again. I was bewildered at how this could be possible and my friends were looking at me askance as if I were some sort of alien, or else had dabbled in an affair. I woke up whilst still pregnant and trying to figure out how and why this had happened.

I don’t find these dreams disturbing at all; I find them rather interesting adventures. Also it is easy to see why I might be having these dreams: (a) the birds are madly mating, and loudly, because it is Spring; (b) Anthony has begun to think I have found another man; (c) Ming is giving me the whoops; and (d) Tapper, the duck, is still sitting on her eggs hoping they will hatch. As for deeper, psychological interpretations, well that is probably a minefield that I would rather avoid at the moment.

Perhaps these dreams are a signal that something really great is about to be born. That would be good!

[Or perhaps it’s just that we are inundated with eggs, the peafowl keep pooping on the chookhouse, or I need to go to the gym? Who knows!]

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Paranoia

King: Julie hasn’t been as attentive to us as usual. Have you noticed?
Prince: Yes I have noticed!

Frosta: Yes, I’ve noticed it too, guys, and I’m a bit hurt too, but from a female perspective, I understand that she is simply going through a blue wren phase.
Prince: What’s a blue wren?
King: Those stupid little birds that flit around our heads all day.

Parkinson’s disease, in its final stages, can lead to confusion, depression, hallucinations, delusions, moodiness, dementia, and paranoia. Ironically, some Parkinson’s medications can also have these kinds of side effects which is why it is such a difficult disease to treat. Until recently, it was Anthony’s physical debilitation that was the primary concern. Yes, hallucinations were a big problem but that was eventually improved by some changes in medication.

So the nursing lodge decision was made on the basis of his physical disabilities – immobility and incontinence (and other factors). But lately, there have been some signs of psychological problems. His confusion in the evenings has become a constant and his depression too, and  last week I blogged about his uncharacteristic anger with me. Today, when Ming and I visited, he was different again. He had a strange, suspicious expression in eyes (eyes which are so difficult to read now) and he began a mumbled diatribe about the nurse who had showered him this morning, saying that she had kicked his foot and hurt him. He even used a few insulting expletives so I left Ming with him out in the sunshine and went in to talk to the head nurse.

This is only the second time I have raised an issue. The first was last week when I told her that his anger with me was a new thing, and today, without going into exactly what he had said, I mentioned that he seemed to have something against the nurse who showered him this morning. I admitted that I didn’t know if he was delusional or if she had actually been a bit ungentle with him and emphasized that his complaining was, like this new anger, uncharacteristic. She said she would look into things tactfully and we both agreed that it may be a new symptom of his PDD. I said I would see his doctor asap to see if his meds. could be altered (for the millionth time) to address this new out-of-character behaviour.

She said that he was occasionally a bit rude and nasty to staff, especially if their ethnicity didn’t match his and I was a bit shocked and reassured her that this, too, was completely out of character. She patted me on the back and Ming and I came home a little stunned by this rather rapid change in Anthony’s personality. The other thing that has been happening lately is that he has begun accusing me of having a boyfriend (which, of course, I don’t!) and previously he was never the jealous type.

I hope we can do something about this because it is very worrying. I mean if he is nasty to the staff they are hardly going to love him are they. So this is a real dilemma in terms of his care.

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Our blue wrens!

As you can see from the following pictures, I have discovered the secret to good photography. You will have to read below to find out how I accomplished this.

The secret to good photography is to get someone else to do it. These are courtesy of Elen Wood. Thank you Elen!

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Dancing

Guinnea trying out a new move

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