jmgoyder

wings and things

Imagined conversation 24

Me: Tomorrow it’ll be exactly eight months since you died.

Anthony: I notice you haven’t been talking to me as much lately.

Me: I know. Sorry, I’ve been busy – really busy.

Anthony: That’s good, Jules and no need to apologise.

Me: I’m not over you or anything like that but the grief seems to have eased up a bit.

Anthony: Don’t forget me though.

Me: That would be absolutely impossible. I live in your house.

Anthony: Our house.

Me: Okay, our house but actually, technically, it’s still just your house because we never got around to the whole joint ownership thing. Your estate is still being sorted and then it’ll actually be my house – so weird.

Anthony: Yes.

Me: Everything here reminds me of you.

Anthony: That’s as it should be.

Me: Ha! That ghastly pink enamel teapot that doesn’t match the red Aga … little things like that remind me of you.

Anthony: You’re not going to sell up are you?

Me: No, of course not. It would break your heart wouldn’t it?

Anthony: I have a slightly different perspective on that now.

Me: I guess I do too. This place stopped meaning as much to me when you went into the nursing home.

Anthony: And now?

Me: Well, nothing really means as much to me now. I put on those boots you gave me today – you know the long ones with black rubber feet and brown leather up to the knees? I wanted to come straight into the nursing home to show them off to you with my new jeans and jacket and then I felt a bit sick when I remembered. That hasn’t happened for awhile.

Anthony: So what did you do?

Me: I got dressed up anyway.

Anthony: That’s my Julie.

Me: I don’t think I should sell up. Ming loves it here.

Anthony: You don’t have to decide yet do you?

Me: No.

Anthony: You sound low.

Me: Not really – just getting used to this gentle grief. I kind of miss the searing grief; it’s more solid.

Anthony: Can’t help you there, Jules.

Me: Do you miss me?

Anthony: Yes, it’s kind of boring here without you.

Me: Same here.

Anthony: I think you are absolutely marvellous, Jules.

Me: Where did that come from?

Anthony: Straight from the heart.

Me: It’s so strange to love someone so much when the person is dead.

Anthony: Who’s that then?

Me: You, you idiot!

Anthony: But I’m still here.

Me: I know that but I just wish I knew where here was.

Anthony: Here is here.

Me: Okay – so you are here, and here is here. Thanks, Ants.

Anthony: You’re welcome. Oh, and Jules?

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Me: Yes, Ants?

Anthony: You won’t get rid of that teapot will you?

Me: No way!

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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.

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Love story 115 – Sedation

Before I became a lecturer in literature and writing, I worked as a nurse in nursing homes and I used to be disturbed by the amount of sedation given to people with dementia. Now I understand much more clearly why.

This evening the nursing lodge staff rang me so that I could speak to Anthony and he was, once again, agitated, confused and mumbling conspiracy theories about what ‘they’ were doing to him. Again, he didn’t know where he was so I tried to reassure him, spoke to the evening nurse (I now call her ’24/7′) who was by his side, then to him again, then got off the phone stunned at the rapidity of his descent into dementia.

Earlier in the day I had rung the morning nurse to discuss the evening confusion problem and she said they were going to get a urine sample because Anthony might have a urinary tract infection. I had wondered this myself as I already knew that these kinds of infections can send someone who already has a brain disease into crazyland.

But tonight, after the jumbled conversation with Ants, I waited until I had calmed down a bit, then  I rang ’24/7′ back to have a private chat and she told me the urine test came back clear.

This means that Anthony does not have a urinary tract infection.

This means that we are now facing what I already knew was coming (but Anthony didn’t), the dementia of Stage 5 Parkinson’s Disease. It has been lurking there for some time but now its jaws are wide, its fangs are sharp and it is out to get him.

’24/7′ told me he had refused his dinner, had become belligerent and was difficult to calm down.

We need sedation.

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