jmgoyder

wings and things

Galah!

Today Anthony was perky, lucid, vocal and even sarcastic!

I had picked a double camellia bloom from our favourite tree but forgot to take a photo (sorry, flower-lovers!)

Well, he loved it but its stem was too short so one of the carers brought a bowl in so we could somehow keep it alive until tomorrow. There were many admiring exclamations from staff and I felt quite the gardener – ha! On this first day of Spring, there will be many more blooms and I will take them in every day because it gives Anthony such delight.

My mother, Meg, visited this afternoon and she, too, admired the double bloom.

Meg: This is a potentially prize-winning flower, Anthony!

Anthony: Yes.

Me: Ants, it’s my tree – remember? I paid a small fortune for that tree!

Anthony: Yes, but I nurtured and loved it.

Meg: I think God created it but did you have a hand in it too?

Anthony (smiling): Yes.

Me: I’m the one with the foresight to buy a rare tree!

Anthony is silent.

Me: Have I upset you, Ants?

Anthony: No, but you are irritating me.

A lot of banter followed this, then my mother went home. I put the food channel on for Ants and, as usual, pretended to go shopping for chocolate or blue cheese, saying I would be back later.

So, after a very panicky few weeks where I thought Anthony was on the brink of death, he has now come back to life it would seem. Surreal! How does this happen? It is beautifully scary but so disconcerting.

The last thing he said to me as I left this afternoon was “You are such a galah, Jules!”

Yep, I agree!

 

 

 

 

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Forewarned is forearmed

Yesterday was a day of terror for me and last night I couldn’t sleep, thinking that any minute I would receive “the phone-call” from the nursing home, to say that Anthony had died.

In the early hours of today, I eventually slept but woke up and, once again, in the grip of that horrible terror, I reached for my phone. No messages. Phew.

This morning, I headed in to the nursing home, thinking I would be met by sombre faces and bad news and, instead, I found Anthony, alive and in a wheelchair, watching the news in one of the communal areas. I wheeled him back to his room and managed to get him into his armchair, then rang a couple of worried relatives so that they could speak to him on the phone. He managed a few words but kept handing the phone back to me.

At noon, I fed him his vitamised lunch which he ate most of and he said, about the dessert (a frothy vanilla mousse), “My favourite”. I must find out what it is so I can bring him some, because he loves it and it’s easy to swallow.

After lunch, he fell asleep, just like yesterday, but he didn’t lose consciousness. I know this because, every time I shook him, he woke up. Yesterday, he didn’t.

Yesterday forewarned me by forcing me to face the prospect of Anthony’s death, something I have been reluctant to do until now. And, in facing this inevitability, I am now forearmed with the knowledge of how to plan his funeral, right down to the kind of casket/coffin to purchase (the cheapest is still around $1,500 – I had no idea – Ants would be appalled!) I have decided who to ask to do readings, be pallbearers, deliver eulogies and am now trying to decide what music would be appropriate.

The terror has gone – whoosh – gone! There is no way of knowing how soon Anthony will die – even the doctor can’t predict that – but, as the latest deterioration has been so fast, and so shocking to me, I feel much more prepared than I was.

And that’s a good thing.

 

 

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Planning a funeral

Anthony isn’t dead yet, and we have never discussed things like burial versus cremation, so I guess those decisions will be up to me, and Ming.

Today, I fed him his vitamised lunch, but he wasn’t particularly interested in the food; he was, as usual (as in the last week or so), very thirsty, so the drinks were a success. Conversation was close to nil and then he went to sleep while I watched television blankly.

I soon realised that he must have had one of those TIAs (mini-strokes) because he was unwakeable. But, as I’d already signed the forms indicating that Anthony was not a candidate for hospitalisation, resuscitation, a feeding tube, or any intervention, I didn’t alert the staff. In all honesty, having seen him diminish so rapidly over recent days, I rather hoped he would die with my warm thumb on his cold wrist.

All afternoon, I kept checking his pulse, hoping for two opposite things! I wanted him to die, for his sake; I wanted him to live, for my sake, and for Ming’s.

Death is definitely on its way for Anthony. Strangely, I didn’t see it coming but now I do. Accepting that has helped me, tonight, to make funeral arrangement decisions. If I make those decisions now, and pre-pay for his funeral, we will at least be able to grieve without so much red tape.

Last week, Ants and I would have been able to joke about funeral caskets; last week, Ming and I would have been able to discuss the future with Anthony in it; this week the whole story has changed.

 

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Flights of fancy

A few weeks ago, Anthony told me he had been running all morning.

Me: How far did you run?
Anthony: Eighteen miles.
Me: Well, it’s no wonder you’re so exhausted! You must have overdone it. You’re not a spring chicken any more, you know, Ants!
Anthony: Shut up (smiling)
Me: Well bravo anyway. Have a nap if you want. You deserve it. I could never run that far!
Anthony: No, you couldn’t.

I love these flights of fancy, these ‘fabulations’ and, even though I know they are a product of Anthony’s Parkinson’s disease dementia, they don’t differ so much from what we all experience sometimes. Often I will wake up in the morning with what I call ‘adventure dreams’ still hanging around in my psyche, waiting for the next chapter, or a conclusion.

For someone who can barely walk now, it’s beautiful to know that Anthony thinks he can still run.

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Health kick!

Over the last few weeks I have been making a determined effort to get healthier (you know, the usual things: fitbit, green juice, no wheat, organic wine, aromatherapy) and …

… exercise. Not happening, despite the fitbit!

So yesterday I went to one of the many gyms in Bunbury and tomorrow I will begin one of those 3-day free trials. I met one of the managers (D) and she was lovely. The gym isn’t big and flashy and has an easy-going atmosphere. D asked what I most wanted out of the gym and I said, “No tummy and stronger arms; I don’t want to walk or cycle in here because I would rather do that outside.”

Anyway, I’m quite excited about tomorrow. I’ve had gym memberships before but not for years so I will have to re-learn how to use the equipment.

When I told Ants he said, “Well, you’ll be battling to compete with my fitness” patting his flat tummy. He then proceeded to tell me that he did 25 push-ups per day and that I should try it.

Me: I can’t even do one push-up!

Anthony: That’s why you have your problem.

Me: What problem?

Anthony: The tummy (pointing to mine before I put one of his pillows onto it).

Me: Are you calling me fat? How DARE you!

Anthony: Jules, you know I’m kidding; you are perfect.

This verbal exchange was enhanced throughout by Anthony’s fantastic smile. I’m just glad he won’t see me struggling with the weights etc. tomorrow. I will paint a much better picture when I see him, so that he will be as proud of me as I am of him.

Me: Ants, I admire you so much, so much – the way you keep on being well and fit despite the Parkinson’s! And you never get down like I do. You are amazing.

Anthony: I know.

Me: Oh. Well, anyway, I’ll start the gym thing tomorrow morning  and come and see you straight after.

Anthony: I know [yawning]

Me: Sorry if I’m boring you!

Anthony: Off you go, then.

Me: What? Where?

Anthony: To that wildlife park…

I guess the health kick challenge is on!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Contentment

I think that contentment is underrated. Anthony has always had it, and Ming has it too, whereas I have always struggled.

Lately, Anthony makes me feel the most wonderful calm; he is so accepting of what is (a huge lesson to me). Ming drops in between restaurant shifts and we all have a bit of a laugh at whatever show is on TV.

Today, after Ming left, this was my conversation with Anthony:

Me: We are all so lucky in our relationship with each other, Ants!

Anthony: Yes, we don’t seem to be losing any hours.

When I think about his words, I feel content.

 

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Age

Anthony has always had a wicked sense of humour so the other day, when I asked him if he knew how old he was, I thought he was joking at first.

Me: How old do you think you are?

Anthony: 16.

Me: Are you serious or having a laugh?

Anthony: Serious. We just came to the farm.

Me: I thought you were 23 when you came to the farm.

Anthony: No, I was 16.

Me: So how old am I?

Anthony: 52?

Me: So how can I be 52 if you are only 16?

Anthony: I’m young.

Me: Sorry to have to break this to you, Ants, but you are actually 80.

LONG PAUSE

Anthony: What rubbish!

Me: No, you really are 80, Ants!

LONGER PAUSE

Me: Have I upset you?

Anthony: A bit.

Me: Oh, Ants, I’m sorry but you really truly are 80.

Anthony: I think you mean 60?

Me: Well you only look 60. You don’t have any wrinkles.

Anthony: I’m not like those old men in the ballroom.

Me: Not at all.

Anthony: I’ve never felt so fit! Look [patting his flat tummy].

Me: That’s why I’m so proud to be your wife.

Anthony: Well so you should be.

 

 

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Love and laughter

I think if I had to choose between love and laughter in a relationship, I would choose laughter. Obviously, having both is ideal but love can be so heavy sometimes, whereas laughter is light.

Today, Anthony was in great form and when I arrived he was participating in a game of coits during “gentle gym”. I joined the game by his side and Kaye (pseudonym), one of the OTs, was running things and she is such a fun-loving compassionate person, she made Anthony feel good about himself despite his bad score! Many of the residents were, like Ants, wheelchair-bound, and couldn’t really throw the coits but it was still fun and there were a lot of laughs. I think I will make a point of going to these sessions regularly because it was obvious that Ants was thrilled I was there.

Later, in his room, once he was settled back into his armchair, we had the following conversation (he has been extremely vocal lately – just when I was getting used to his silence).

Ants: I haven’t seen you for awhile.
Me: What a lot of rubbish! I saw you the day before yesterday!
Ants: No, it was the day before the day before yesterday [accurate!]
Me: So are we heading for an argument?
Ants: No, but sometimes I think you have run off with another man.
Me: How ridiculous! Why would I do that when I adore you so much?
Ants: I’m not sure you do anymore.
Me: Okay now listen to me, you idiot. It’s not all about you. Sometimes I need a break and sometimes I need to do other stuff.
Ants: Like what?
Me: Laundry, housework, cooking, Ming.
Ants: So where will you be tonight?
Me: At home of course.
Ants: Where is that?
Me: Bythorne [the name of our farm]
Ants: Bythorne? [looking very surprised]
Me: Yes, silly!

The conversation meandered over the few hours I was there, but here is another excerpt in response to a cooking show on television:

Me: Look at that roast duck!
Ants: Beautiful.
Me: That guy has cooked it slowly for over three hours.
Ants: Too long.
Me: Yeah, but it looks perfect, Ants!
Ants: You have a point. When are you going to cook it?
Me: Actually, that’s a great idea but I need to get the Aga going first.
Ants: I lit it the other day but we need more kerosene.
Me: I am ordering some next week.
Ants: Isn’t the grass green [looking at the wall]
Me: Yes, it’s wonderful.
Ants: Do you want me to light the fireplace? [trying to get up – impossible]
Me: No, Ming’s already done it.
Ants: He’s a good son isn’t he.
Me: He’s a great son.

And, as I was leaving:

Me: I have to go now to get some groceries.
Ants: But every time I let you go, you don’t come back until the next day.
Me: But I do come back! I love you so much, Ants.
Ants: I don’t love you as much now.
Me: What? Why? How dare you! [tickling him]
Ants: Because you keep leaving me and I don’t know where Mum is.
Me: Argh! Ants, we are in a nursing home and you are in good hands. You have Parkinson’s disease and I have to go and get some groceries! Get with it! I’ll see you tomorrow.

Okay, so all of the above was love-driven but it was the hilarious laughter and smiles we both shared that made these poignant and bittersweet conversations absolutely wonderful. It was one of the best days Ants and I have had for ages.

The love hurts, but the laughter heals.

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Shenanigans

I remember the day, decades ago, when I discovered an enormous spider in the kitchen of Anthony’s house. Anthony was milking the cows and his mother, who we all called ‘Gar’, was having her afternoon nap, and I was trying to get the lumps out the white sauce I was trying to make on the Aga, to mix with the tinned salmon. I was nineteen and, even though I’d lived in Papua New Guinea for three years and I wasn’t afraid of spiders, I thought it best if I killed this particular giant.

So I found the fly spray and used almost the whole can to crumple the spider onto the kitchen floor. It died simultaneously with the white sauce which I only just rescued the Aga from (another story).

When Anthony came in from milking, I told him about my heroics proudly. He was aghast.

Anthony: You killed Martha?

Me: What do you mean?

Anthony: Martha is our pet spider, Jules.

Me: Oh no, I’m so sorry.

Anthony: Mum will be devastated.

Me: But you didn’t tell me you had a pet spider. Why didn’t you tell me?

Anthony: Where is she?

Me: Your mum? She’s resting.

Anthony: No – where is Martha?

Me: I’m so sorry but I put her into the outside rubbish bin. (I begin to cry).

Anthony: Jules – I am kidding!

Okay, so over 35 years later, I am sitting next to Anthony in the nursing home and he is boringly slumbery, so I put my face up close – nose to nose – and shout “Wake up!” His eyes open but he doesn’t focus. I keep my face close to his and all of a sudden he launches up in his armchair with an unexpectedly loud “BOO!”and nearly head-butts me.

Me: You scared the hell out of me, Ants!

Anthony: That was the desired effect, my dear.

 

 

 

 

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“Ming the Merciless”

During Ming’s last year at high school, all of the kids were allowed to imprint on their grammar school jackets an emblem or phrase that represented who they were. Ming chose “Ming the Merciless”.

And that he is! This week, he mercilessly told me some home truths about how my sadness about Anthony affects him. This has been followed by many lengthy philosophical conversations about a whole lot of topics including life, death, love, loss, grief, acceptance. Occasionally he and I have cried together about our different heartbreaks, comforted each other by just listening, and made plans to get out of our individual ruts.

Ming is not merciless at all. He is the kindest person I have ever known and the way he cares so much about me, and Ants too, is extraordinary in its depth. I think back to all of those nights when Ming slept in the bed next to Anthony’s in order to give me a break from what we called ‘the night shifts’ and I am so grateful for his help, patience, love and comfort.

Now, at 22, this child/man of ours is, understandably, a bit tired of both Anthony and me, but he cares so much that he doesn’t ever want to leave the farm. He gets a lot of peer pressure to ‘get out there’ but he wants to stay put for the time being, work as a waiter, earn some money, and be here for both Ants and me.

And, no matter how many times I tell him that we don’t want him trapped into feeling he has to be here for us, he just reiterates that he loves this home, that he doesn’t want to go anywhere at the moment, that he is content.

Ming is so much like Anthony in this way; Ants knew how to go with the flow, work hard and he had no delusions; he was content with, and proud of, life as a dedicated dairy farmer despite the changes that wreaked havoc with the industry many year ago. I have always admired Anthony’s lackadaisical attitude to life and work and his acceptance of every single ‘whatever’. Ming has this capacity too but he is merciless against himself!

I am so proud of this amazing son of ours – Ming the Merciless!

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