In 1959, Anthony turned 23, had his first relationship with a woman, his father died, and, across the other side of Australia, I was born.
I had my first relationship with a man (Anthony) when I was 23.
My father died at the age of 58. Ming was born when Anthony was 58.
Ming and I both have a parent who is 77 (Anthony and my mother).
I was 19 when my father died. Ming is 19 now and his father is dying.
Coincidences can be interesting, but they can also be cruel.
I arranged for Anthony to be wheel-chair taxied home today for the third time this week. We are doing this so often lately that it is becoming the new norm. Anthony arrives here at 2pm and is taxied back to the nursing lodge at 4.30pm.
There have been numerous logistical glitches with this arrangement, but it’s getting smoother.
When Ants arrives, it takes awhile to get him out of the taxi, but once he is on the front veranda, it’s like the good old days – just the two of us.
Today, Ants saw Ming before milking, then we visited his nephew’s family, then we came back home to have a drink before the taxi arrived and, for the first time, Ants accepted he had to go back to the nursing lodge.
We hugged and kissed goodbye but there were no tears from either of us – phew.
Anthony was/is my first and only love. He continues to make my heart beat faster. I am so lucky!
I feel compelled to write a follow-up to yesterday’s post due to the interesting comments that were made. There was even a little debate on my blog which has never happened before!
The ageism that Ming has admitted to is not directed at just Anthony; it is more generalized. He is easily annoyed with all things old – not just people. For example we live in a very old house where things are beginning to break down and wear out – old carpets, broken furniture, warped flyscreens, holes through which mice enter, old plumbing, electrical wiring etc. Similarly, we have problems outside with old lawnmowers, trees, sheds, hoses, water tanks etc.
This is all perfectly normal for an old farm and none of it is insurmountable, but getting things fixed is expensive and time-consuming and, for young Ming, a source of constant frustration.
Add to this old Anthony’s deterioration in health and we have a young Ming with an aversion to both the concept and reality of the word öld”.
If I were to define compassion, I would say it is equal parts sympathy and empathy. Sympathy is feeling sad FOR somebody else, whereas empathy is feeling sad LIKE somebody else. In general, the latter does not come easily to young people when dealing with old people.
I think that if Ming weren’t compassionate, he would not be worried about his lack of empathy for Anthony. He wants to be empathetic but he can’t feel it and I can’t make him feel it, so we accept it. His love for Anthony runs deep, but his liking of Anthony is problematic because Ants is now so old, frail and incapacitated that Ming avoids seeing him. Strangely, I am the one most hurt by this as Ants is more philosophical and remembers feeling the same aversion to his own father after his father had a stroke.
Yesterday’s post was not intended as a moan or a cry for help; I was just telling it like it is, warts and all!
When people ask Ming, “So, what are you doing these days?” Ming always replies proudly, Ï’m following in Dad’s footsteps.” I used to think Ming was referring to the fact that he is milking cows but now I think his statement means much more.
Oh yeah, and a bad day doesn’t mean a bad life. We are lucky.
Before I entered university life, I worked for around ten years in nursing homes. I felt an enormous affection for elderly people and began to understand the communication value of stories told by people who were in various stages of dementia.
I wrote a PhD, then a book, then articles – all published – and Anthony was so proud of me. We used to talk about the elderly people I’d met, their stories, my theories, and the various drawbacks of life in a nursing home. This was around the same time we got married – 20 years ago.
Little did I know then what would happen to us now, that Anthony would be in a nursing home, that Anthony would get Parkinon’s disease dementia (PDD), that Ming, our son, would become ageist.
Like many young people, Ming has an aversion to old age, but he never used to! He used to be compassionate and kind; now he is either horrified or indifferent.
We had a discussion about this last night and Ming actually admitted to ageism.
“It’s Dad’s fault,” he said.
I went outside and wept.
Gutsy9 (baby peacock for those who don’t know) likes playing dead and I keep getting a fright! Of course he is not really playing dead, he is just playing.
When Anthony was still living at home, he used to do this (not intentionally of course), and I would find him slumped in his chair, apparently asleep but looking as if he were dead. Sometimes I couldn’t wake him up but he would still be breathing. This happened at least once a day over the year preceding his admission to the nursing lodge. Since then, I have had to get the ambulance three times when this has happened on a home visit.
The cause? Advanced Parkinson’s disease. The cure? None.
Anthony’s encroaching dementia confuses both of us and sometimes I am more confused than he is. That’s why I am so glad we have such an honest way of talking with each other.
When Ants was home yesterday, and I mentioned that he had dementia and he winked at me, I was surprised for two reasons. Firstly, his Parkinsons disease prevents him from blinking, let alone winking, so that wink was weirdly wonderful. Secondly, when he and I talked about the dementia of his PD, and I laughed about the taxi mishap, Ants was fine – not distressed and quite okay with the fact that he has dementia now.
I’m confused.
One of the most difficult things about Anthony moving into the nursing lodge has been accepting this dramatic change.
Ming (now 19) was the first to accept this change willingly, whereas it took me nearly a year and mine was an unwilling acceptance laced with grief and guilt.
Anthony’s own acceptance has taken longer but yesterday it just happened and I am so relieved. This is how:
I booked the wheelchair taxi to pick Ants up from the nursing lodge at 2pm, then I rang his nephew who lives around the corner, and left a message that Ants would be home for a few hours.
Then, at 2.30pm, the nephew rang to say Ants was at their place! Apparently Anthony had convinced the taxi driver that our address was wrong and directed him to go to the nephew’s!
By the time the rather flustered taxi driver arrived here (around 2.45pm) I was in such fits of laughter that I could hardly speak as he got Ants out of the taxi. I hugged Ants, still spluttering with hilarity, so much so that Ming took over wheeling Ants to the front veranda while I paid the taxi driver who was now laughing too.
Okay, frivolity aside, the bemused taxi driver left, Ming went to milk the cows and Ants and I shared a beer and some snacks I had painstakingly prepared (chips). Here is our conversation:
Ants: It’s good to be home.
Me: So why did you go to the nephew’s?
Ants: I got mixed up.
Me: Yeah, you have a bit of dementia now.
Ants: I thought so. Am I staying the night?
Me: No!
Ants: Why?
Me: Because, Ants, you are too sick, I can’t lift you, and you need nursing care. How many times do we have to have this discussion? You have to accept it Ants – please!
Ants: You’re right.
Me: What?
Ants: You’re right.
Me: Okay, so the wheelchair taxi is coming to take you back in a few hours. Are you okay with that?
Ants: Yes, Jules (winking).
We then shared another beer, laughed again about the taxi mishap (well, I laughed and Ants looked at me as if I were crazy), then he began to droop badly and agreed to get the taxi earlier.
Acceptance.
PS. I’m off on my bike to tackle the road now!
Anthony’s wife is Julie.
Anthony’s son is Ming.
Julie’s husband is Anthony.
Julie’s son is Ming.
Ming’s father is Anthony.
Ming’s mother is Julie.
We are each others’ apostrophes.
And Gutsy’s mine.
WHAT DOES MATTER
– Ming began harp lessons.
– Anthony said on the phone this afternoon that he’d been kidnapped, but I calmed him down.
– Some lovely friends came to pick the dying figs.
– Gutsy9 (baby peacock) is thriving despite his wonky leg.
– We found a clock man who has now fixed three of Anthony’s clocks, so the house is chiming again.
– I finished delivering details to our accountant for our tax return from last year.
– I am going to purchase an ipad tomorrow so I can access the internet in Anthony’s room and show him stuff.
– Ming and I are getting on top of the housework/yardwork etc.
– I only cried a little bit today, instead of a lot.
– The blog community is amazing.
– Ming has stopped being so bossy!
– Lots of other good things.
WHAT DOESN’T MATTER
– It doesn’t matter!
jmgoyder 