jmgoyder

wings and things

What’s more important – to love, or to be loved?

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Yesterday, after doing hours of paperwork and three related appointments, I finally got to Anthony’s lodge at 5pm and something in his face lit up. “My beautiful girl!” he said (now that I am 54, being called a girl always works a charm on me). We gave each other the usual hugs and kisses and then I sat down to tell him the latest about my nieces and nephews, my Centrelink adventure and other things, and poured him a small whisky. I knew I couldn’t stay long as I had to get groceries before the shops shut, so he got a bit upset when I had to go. I managed to jolly him out of that somehow and left reluctantly.

At the doorway to his room, I paused, as always, and said to him, “I love you so much, Ants” and he said, “When you go I won’t have anyone to love.” So then of course I ran back to him for one more hug and he was okay, knowing he would see me tomorrow (which is now today).

After getting groceries, I headed for home with his words resonating and I realized, for the millionth time, what an amazing person he is to want to give love more than to receive love.

Ming, at 19, doesn’t really understand why I go into the nursing lodge, take Ants out for cake and coffee, and/or on my errands, or home on weekends.

Me: Because he is my husband!
Ming: But how can you stand it, with Dad like he is? It’s no fun for you and the psychologist said you’re supposed to be having a bit of fun in your life.
Me: Because I love him and I can make it fun now I’ve stopped succumbing to the sadness so much. Anyway, I like going to cafes and so does Ants.
Ming (bewildered): Okay, whatever.

One day, when Ming is married to someone (who I hope will be amazing!) he will understand something about love that I didn’t really ‘get’ until now: that the gift of love is found inside every moment that you give it and not in how much you receive it. I certainly didn’t see it this way when I was his age so why should he?

So to both my beautiful boys: I love you.

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I found out today that Anthony and I are ‘illness separated’.

photo credit to Jane Terren

Ming and I were at Centrelink (Australia’s social security service) this morning to pursue job possibilities for him now that he is not supposed to do manual labour. He is still working for our neighbours as a dairyhand but only for three days a fortnight, and with no lifting allowed. As many of you know, this is because Ming tried to lift something really heavy in our shed a few months ago and actually fractured some of the titanium in his ‘new’ back. He will be scheduled for further surgery in the next couple of months, after which he will obviously have to quit milking the cows for good.

So we were at Centrelink with a the doctor’s certificates and other paperwork that might help Ming claim some sort of interim allowance before and after the next surgery, when (whilst waiting for her computer to reboot) the beautiful woman serving us chatted with me about this and that and she took an interest in my own circumstances. As I had previously received a carer’s allowance when Anthony still lived at home, I was on the system, but she could easily see that I have had no income of any sort for nearly 18 months and haven’t been able to claim any social security help due to living on a farm (asset). She asked me about Anthony and, when I told her he was now in a nursing home, she said, “Well that means you are separated.” I said, “No, no!” Then she said, “It’s okay, I just mean you fall into the Centrelink category of ‘illness separated’ and, as such, you could probably do with some financial assistance.”

She then said she would do anything she could to assist us in our Centrelink pursuits. I was so grateful I nearly got teary and then suddenly she realized that Ming (whose Scottish name is spelled Menzies) used to play football with her own son and, even though she and I had never known each other back then, I not-so-instantly recognized her!

I am feeling a bit uncomfortable about lodging a claim for financial assistance but, on the other hand, Anthony and I have, like so many, paid a fortune in taxes over the decades, so why not? It’s difficult for me to get another job at the moment because I spend a lot of hours with Anthony every week – either here or at the nursing lodge; and it’s difficult for Ming to commit to another job until he knows about surgery (next appointment with surgeon in two weeks).

One of the things I am so grateful for is the fact that my beautiful, now incapacitated, ‘illness-separated’ husband, has had enough savings to sustain us so far. And that we are living on his/our beautiful farm.

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Nightmares

I had a dream last night that someone I knew (it wasn’t clear in the dream who exactly he was), took me to a holiday house somewhere near the sea. It was a really shabby old house and I felt a bit reluctant to go in but I did anyway because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Then, once I was inside, the door shut with a clang, and I knew immediately that I was doomed because a hanging rope was already in place for me and the someone-I-knew became a cackling stranger who was going to hurt me before killing me. The terror I felt within that dream woke me up, and I entered the day in a daze of perspiring relief that it was just a nightmare.

Have I read too many books, seen too many movies, thought too many thoughts, felt too many emotions? Yes, probably, but this was the most frightening nightmare I have ever had. Of course this nightmare is not hard to interpret at all I guess – a bunch of mixed emotions following trauma; ongoing anxiety for all those affected by trauma; shame, guilt and embarrassment over the stupid things I’ve said and done since the trauma; and a momentary wish that I would die.

The nightmare has made me see much better what it must be like for Anthony when he experiences the night terrors and and hallucinations of his PDD. If I can experience such a vivid nightmare whilst being physically healthy, and wake up with my face covered in the sweat of terror, then what is he going through?

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From heart to heart: The Dr. Says

I have made many friends in the blogosphere, one of whom is Sandra Callahan. She is wise and funny and positive and she and I share some very similar experiences. We have supported each other through many ups and downs and yesterday she made a comment on my post that compelled me to rethink yesterday’s doctor’s appointment with Anthony during which he described his dreadful terror the night before as ‘a bit of fun’. Sandra said, ‘He must have been embarrassed by his behavior. I cannot imagine how scary it must be when he doesn’t recognize people and they are trying to force him to do things he doesn’t understand.’

Sandra’s comment made me realize that Anthony’s bravado with the doctor was to cover his embarrassment and, even though I was aware of this at the time, it didn’t really hit me until I read Sandra’s wise words. Of course he was embarrassed – to be confused, to have been terrified of nurses, to have possibly made a fool of himself, and to have worried me so much. Anthony’s ‘bit of fun’ was his way of covering up his embarrassment and I understand that much better today than I did yesterday thanks to Sandra. She has once again helped to sharpen my sense of perception with her amazing empathy.

Our hearts have a lot in common except for one fundamental thing: mine is still beating loud and clear and Sandra’s is failing. She has congestive heart failure and is dying. But she is also living to the utmost, encouraging people like me and talking honestly about dying. Her book is now available and here is the link.

From my heart to your heart, Sandra.

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“I’m so much better, Jules!”

Today I picked Anthony up from the nursing lodge to take him for a doctor’s appointment to get some of his never-ending skin cancers burned off with that ice stuff. Having been a farmer all his life, out in the full sun before the days of hats and sunscreen, he develops many of these on an almost daily basis – new eruptions from old sun damage – on his arms, face and back mainly. Even though it hurts, Anthony has a strange liking for the procedure, mainly because he really likes seeing our doctor and so do I.

In the car on the way to the doctor’s office I asked him did he remember what had happened last night and he surprised me by saying yes.

Me: Well I think we should tell the doctor because this seems to be happening more often and you sounded so terrified.
Anthony: I didn’t want to be ordered around.
Me: So you fought the staff, told me I was part of a conspiracy against you, thought you were being tied up, and frightened the hell out of me.
Anthony: They deserved it.
Me: But they were just trying to put you to bed! Was anyone being nasty or pushy?
Anthony: Not really.
Me: So why did you fight them?
Anthony: Oh, just for a bit of fun.

AAARGH!

Before I go on, I should explain that this kind of conversation flows much more smoothly on the page than it does in real time. In real time, there are a lot of pauses and sometimes Anthony’s voice is so soft now that I have to say, “what?” or “say that again?” before I understand what he is saying.

Anyway, his ‘bit of fun’ comment made me laugh, until I became a bit cross.

Me: So you think it’s funny to torment the nurses and make me cry for worrying about you.
Anthony: The first thing yes but not to you. (He reaches out and pats my knee as we pull into the doctor’s parking lot)
Me: Well I’m going to ask the doctor to prescribe you with something for when this happens again.
Anthony: So you want to drug me.
Me: Nooooo! I just don’t want you to have one of these terrified episodes again with nothing to calm you down. Even I take something like that now and then!
Anthony: Yes, but you probably need it.

He has a point there!

When we went into the doctor’s office, he already had his ice-spray thingy in his hand like a weapon (a little joke he and Anthony share), but I told him that our visit was two-fold and then described last night’s incident, including Anthony as much as I could, despite his point of view being different from mine. He, too, thought it was funny when Anthony said it was all a bit of fun and Anthony’s eyes did that rare twinkly thing and he nearly smiled.

A new medication was prescribed, several skin cancers burned off and we left feeling as if we’d been on a social visit. By that time it was early afternoon, so I suggested we eat at a restaurant but Anthony wanted MacDonalds (most unusual!) So we got burgers from a drive-through, went to a park and ate them in the car (much easier than getting Ants in and out of a restaurant), then went to a bakery and bought a fancy tart which he vacuumed up, and a big chocolate cake for the nurses. By the time we got back to the nursing lodge, he was exhausted.

Okay it is now nearing the time I usually ring Anthony to say goodnight. The new pill won’t be available until tomorrow so we may well have a repeat of last night’s situation but this time I will be ready and I won’t let either of us be disarmed. I have to be prepared for the worsening of Anthony’s condition even though every single morning he says to me, “I’m so much better, Jules.”

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Parkinson’s disease dementia and night terrors

I have just gotten off the phone with Anthony for the third time in the last half hour. He is terrified and this is happening more and more often at around the same time of night. Tonight he thinks several people are trying to tie him up, that his house is being rummaged and wrecked, and that I am part of a conspiracy to hurt him. Ming and I have both talked to him and I have also rung the nurse in charge to tell her how distressed he is and that he is confused. She said they had tried to put him to bed (sometimes it takes two or three people) but he fought them all off. I told her he didn’t know what was going on and that we were seeing the doctor tomorrow to get emergency medication for this kind of hallucinatory agitation.

Our farm is a half hour drive away and I feel like I should sell up and buy a unit near the nursing lodge so I can be closer for these night terrors because for him to be this frightened is unbearable for all of us. I know/hope that in the short time it has taken to write this post, he will most probably be in bed and nearly asleep because in the end Ming and I managed to calm him down a bit – very hard to do over the phone.

The prolonged emotional agony of this disease, for all three of us, is like treading water in a strange and unfamiliarly large pool of murky water, and can change within the space of an hour. Earlier, when I rang Ants, he was fine and lucid and gorgeous. His words don’t come out very well any more so I was shocked by tonight’s frantic eloquence and his absolute terror. My feelings of helplessness are like jagged jigsaw pieces accidentally placed in the wrong box – futilely useless.

I love him so much.

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A perfect arrangement

Ming offered to pick Anthony up on Monday and bring him home for the day, then take him back to the nursing lodge in the late afternoon. I can’t believe how much this improved the day for me! It was so wonderful not having to make the two trips, each of which takes around an hour if you count the time it takes to get Anthony in and out of the car and then back into his room at the lodge. It was also great fun for Anthony to have his big son driving him around and Ming got to spend time with Ants on his own during the trips to and fro.

When I take Anthony back to the nursing lodge he often gets really unhappy and sentimental, and saying goodbye for the evening is sometimes a bit tearful for both of us. But with Ming, this doesn’t happen so that is a real bonus. This arrangement was also great because, having done the two trips with Anthony, Ming didn’t feel he had to spend every minute of the day with him. This can be a bit of a strain for Ming, especially when Anthony isn’t making any sense or doesn’t speak at all.

Anthony and I spent most of the morning in the kitchen while I made chicken and vegetable soup for our lunch. Then he wandered around the farm (wonderful!) until he became too wobbly. Back in the kitchen he watched me make a blue cake while we caught an old episode of Midsomer Murders on the television. The cake wasn’t quite cooked when it came time for Ming to take Anthony back so I surprised him with it on his return. As you can see, he was nonplussed.

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Ming said he will drive Anthony back and forth whenever he can. This is a perfect arrangement.

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Another blog?

I had intended to take a break from this blog for the weekend so that I could work on the dementia articles and stay overnight at the nursing lodge. The latter was impossible due to the person-in-charge needing this idea to be taken up the ladder but also because Anthony wanted me to come home to take care of the farm (Ming has gone to Perth for the weekend). I was surprised by Anthony’s reaction, and I await the hierarchy’s verdict on future stayovers, but at least I have redrawn attention to the possibility, perhaps more seriously than I did previously. I stayed with Ants much later than usual, until he said, “Jules, you better go home before it gets too dark”.

So now I am home, Ming’s away, I’ve put the birds away, fed the dogs, boiled my corn cob (latest addiction) and am playing around with a latent blog (with the ridiculous title of philosophication) that I registered with WP ages ago. I’ve done the ‘About’ page and one post but I am not quite sure how to get it ‘out there’ except to put the link here.

The reason I am doing this is because, as this is my general blog, I want to have another place to draft/write articles about dementia because this has been a long-held research (and now personal) interest. After all, my PhD thesis was about Alzheimer’s disease and a revised version of this was published as a book in 2001 (We’ll be married in Fremantle), but I don’t want to inflict dementia-ridden articles on readers of this wings@things blog; hence another blog. I did try to do the separate page thing on this blog but I couldn’t figure it out.

So here is the link for anyone who is interested. I am very excited to be writing material that may be publishable beyond the blog, but I am not even sure if I’ve set it up properly so here is the link for anyone who is interested:

About

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It’s the weekend!

This last week I have had a difficult time coping with Anthony’s dementia-ridden sadness, his lucid memories of/confusion about unpleasant things from the past, his newly-found resistance against nursing staff, his relentless need for me, his unbearable love of our home and his absence from it, and now six days of constipation and associated pain.

His unpleasant memories, and my struggle with forgiveness of those who hurt him (done now, I hope), are nothing compared to the immediacy of his PDD-related physical ailments. Tomorrow, I will ask the nursing lodge staff if I can stay the night. They will say no again, but you never know; it’s the weekend!

Blog break over wkend

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Underneath: a poem to Anthony

Underneath the black and white tiled linoleum in the kitchen are the original tiles.
We couldn’t rip them out because of the asbestos, so we just covered them over.
The ridiculously expensive lino almost immediately developed little holes
from my high heels, your bentwood chairs and, more recently, the stab of your walking stick.
Do you remember how I invited the manufacturer’s assistant out here to get a discount on that lino, how he told me to stop wearing heels, how I told him where to go? We got the discount on the basis of a faulty product and you were proud of me for fighting for this.

Underneath the canopy of your thick eyebrows (when did they get so thick?) your eyes only twinkle occasionally now and sometimes I can’t get even get your lips to move into a smile, no matter how hard I try with my jostling words, silly antics, tear-restrained hugs.

Underneath the muteness of your nursing home bed, I lie on a soft carpet of imagination in the hope that you will have a good night’s sleep in which you forget that I am not there with you. And, while I am on this soft carpet, I will try my hardest to erase your fear of losing me because that will never happen.

Underneath the ugliness of this disease, I see the beauty of who you are, and always have been – a big caterpillar, bypassing all of the butterflies, and becoming a vivid part of the sky.

ps. So glad our son, Ming, no longer reads my blog; he would vomit -ha! Actually, if I read this to Anthony, he probably would too, so I guess this is just for myself and the blog.

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