jmgoyder

wings and things

Love story 120 – Romance

When Anthony suddenly transformed from a macho machine into a rose-buying romantic all those years ago, it was a massive shock to me. As a macho machine, he was never demonstrative or loving or generous and I was so used to this that the ‘new’ Anthony took a bit of getting used to.  In the nearly 20 years since we’ve been married he has given me the most beautiful gifts: pearls (a few strings), silver bangles (around 20), expensive perfume, a carriage clock, an Omega watch, a couple of other watches, an antique lithograph (well he had wanted this himself), my first ever electronic organizer, my first laptop, a min-tv for my office, a beautifully framed picture of me at my graduation, two antique cameo broaches and the list goes on. Most of these were surprises but over the last few years, since he became too ill with PD to drive, he would tell me to go and buy my own Christmas and birthday presents with instructions like “Go and buy yourself a nice frock” which is ludicrous of course since I haven’t worn a dress since I was around five years old so I would come home with expensive jeans or boots instead! It wasn’t as magical to have to choose my own presents but after a year or so I began to look forward to this. I would ring him from whatever shop and tell him I was trying to choose between this bangle and that bangle and he would always say, “Get the best one, Jules.” So I would!

Don’t get me wrong. When the dairy industry was thriving and I was working, we were comfortably off, but not wealthy and Anthony, having always been extremely scroogy careful with money, continued to astound me with his birthday and Christmas gifts to me. But perhaps the best and most extraordinary gift was his ability to say “I love you, Jules.” The first time he said this, a few seconds before he proposed marriage, I laughed because I thought he was joking. For him the word ‘love’ was a definite taboo and whenever I had used it on him he had shrugged and grinned, but never reciprocated. Since the first time he said these words, he has said them every single day of our marriage and they have not lost their power.

Lately, love has become the main topic of conversation for him. When I am in the nursing lodge, or he is on a visit home, or on the phone, he talks about this big love we have for each other and his eyes smile even though his mouth can’t. He loves talking about love, so much so that I sometimes say, “Yeah, okay, I get it!”

After months of rather mopey misery on his part, Anthony seems to have finally accepted what is, so when I see him, his eyes light up, and he almost yells, “Jules!” He does this on the phone too and seems to have stopped begging me for the impossible – to bring him home to stay. Our conversations are lighter. Of course the confusion and disorientation of PDD is still there but this love-talk seems to bypass that and now, when I leave the nursing lodge, I say goodbye with a smile because I know he knows that I am in love with him too.

A few years ago

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Cauldrons and Cupcakes

Despite the fact that I don’t like cupcakes, or any cake for that matter, and I am a little nervous of cauldrons, I have been following this wonderful blog for some time. Cauldrons and Cupcakes is a blog about “creativity, spirituality & life,” written by a fantastic woman, Nicole Cody.

Recently I entered her ‘win a healing necklace’ competition simply by commenting on this particular post: http://cauldronsandcupcakes.com/2012/10/22/win-a-healing-necklace-made-especially-for-you/

Well, I won!!!!!! The necklace arrived yesterday and it’s beautiful. Here is what it looks like:

In Nicole’s handwritten card to me she explained that the darker pink stones are Pinks Tarmaline “for joy and happiness – and to bring back your passion for living – it’s a great antidote to grief, depression and loss”; the light pink stones are Rose Quartz “for unconditional love, nurture, heart healing and emotional soothing”; and the Pink Pearls are “for spiritual guidance, Angelic realm support and connection, and acceptance of what is.”

I am crazy about the necklace and can’t wait to show Anthony.

Thank you so much, Nicole!

Oh and you can find her here: http://cauldronsandcupcakes.com/

And guess what? She is Australian, like me – yeeha!

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Kindness

The word ‘kindness’ seems a little innocuous until you are a recipient.

Jen is someone who worked in a different area of the university from me and, over the years, she knew me best as the lecturer with the self-inflicted computer problems, and a fellow animal lover. She had never met Anthony but she knew about him from my blog. And she knew he suffered from Parkinson’s related temperature problems that affected his feet (either too cold or too hot constantly).

Well not only did Jen invite me over for coffee one day, she also made Anthony a lupin bag AND she visited Ants with me to give him this gift. I was amazed by her generosity.

Here is a paste of Jen’s description of the lupin bag:

Lupin bags:

Can be used as a heat pack or a cold pack.

Heat pack – heat in the microwave (turn while heating when using a larger bag)

Cold pack – leave in the freezer (I don’t get frostbite using a lupin bag as a cold pack straight from the freezer.)

Ways I have successfully used the heated lupin bag:

  • ·        Seated – sit with heated lupin bag under my feet or on my lap – keeps the whole body warm
  • ·        Seated at the computer with heated bag on my neck – back of the office chair helps keep the bag in place
  • ·        Bed – pre-warm bed or take to bed for extra warm toes/tummy/back//under knees etc
  • ·        Pain relief – sore backs, shoulders etc and applied to the area for any rectal pain from haemorrhoids etc.

Ways I have successfully used the cold lupin bag:

  • ·        On tummy or lap on very hot days
  • ·        At night in bed – assists with hot flushes
  • ·        My son sits at the computer with a cold lupin bag on his head as he says it assists in keep him cool.
  • ·        On injuries that need cold therapy

The lupin bag is in Anthony’s bedside cupboard for use when he gets the cold/hot feet syndrome (which is fairly constant), so this post is to thank Jen for her gift, her wisdom and her lupin-knowledge.

Kindness – you can’t beat it!


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Cleavage

I was about to write a post about Anthony’s successful transition via ambulance back to the nursing lodge today but I am too tired from having read a million magazines in the hospital over the last two days. I exhausted one ward’s supply so had to go and ‘steal’ some from another ward. I know I was supposed to do my paperwork but it was putting me to sleep, so I opted for the magazines. I am now an expert on Posh and Becks, I know all of Prince Harry’s secrets and I am getting really worried about Oprah and Angelina Jolie.

I have also seen a hell of a lot of cleavage and, having rarely dressed in anything but collared shirts and jeans, I found it a little confronting – haha! There seemed to be cleavage on every single page of every single magazine I picked up and, when Ants wasn’t drowsing, I would show him a picture and he would say, “Yes but she’s not as good as you,” which is strange since I have never worn anything ever that revealed cleavage.

Funnily enough, when I picked Ming up from music school this afternoon, he said, “Mum, there’s this new teacher who is really hot, but today she was showing a lot of cleavage.” I cracked up laughing at the coincidence then asked him if this were a good or a bad thing. “Well, as a person, I feel like asking women to please put them away, but as a man I am rather drawn,” he said seriously.

I am still laughing and can’t wait to tell Ants when I ring him tonight. He is fine now although his left eye is dreadfully swollen and he is still a bit more disorientated than usual but I am so relieved it’s over and the skin cancer is gone.

 

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Home

I got home from my second visit to Anthony at the hospital today to find that Ming had put the birds into their pens, fed all and sundry and let the dogs out for their second run. Jack (the Irish terrier) is all long legs and somersaulting enthusiam and Blaze (the mini-dachschund) is a desperado for hugs, so when I drove into the garage, they both greeted me with wet noses and gleeful barks until I hugged them both. Beautiful.

Then Ming said, “Where is my food?” so I put him in the chookhouse. It was a bit of a tight squeeze to begin with until he agreed to fend for himself tonight as I was pretty tired. Then I rang the hospital and, attempting nonchalance (since I had already bothered so many nurses today about Anthony’s meds. etc.) I was put onto a lovely nurse who handed me to a very strong-voiced Ants and I said goodnight to him without tears in my eyes. I had met this nurse earlier in the day when Ants had somehow clambered out of the bed and sliced his leg open and, as she was dressing the wound, I explained about the PDD and his previous post-op. behaviour. I did this in front of Ants because we have this unspoken honesty policy I guess.

Actually, no, not quite, because I am not sure whether to tell Anthony about his dementia or not. So far, I just say it’s Parkinson’s when he asks why this and that. I guess we will figure it out eventually. Tonight his left eye was swollen and blueblack due to the skin cancer being so close to it but the scar looks good and clean and it is such a relief to be rid of this horrible thing. Tomorrow I will take him back to the nursing lodge which might be tricky because he thinks I am bringing him home.

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Contingencies

A contingency is an unexpected or unpredicted event. I am sure there are deeper philosophical definitions but that’s who/how I see it.

So you cannot plan for contingencies because they just happen. I am learning how to be ready for them, to deal with them and to stop trying to figure them out.

Dementia is place where contingencies flourish, watered by leaking brain cells and lit by twilight. These contingencies are not funny or exciting like coincidences; they are cruel and cleverly shocking.

Over the last two evenings my phone conversations with Anthony have been disturbing as I described in yesterday’s posts.

So, later this afternoon, I am going to go into the nursing lodge and face this evening’s inevitable contingency with Anthony. We will have a small red wine with each other, I will make sure he eats his dinner (which he apparently refused last night), I will hug him and reassure him and I will talk to the staff and get their perspectives.

But I have a confession to make; I don’t want to do this because lately (despite the excursion out to the farm the other day), it is becoming an unpleasant experience for both of us. He makes accusations, begs to come home and sometimes rebuffs me – or else he clings to me, making us both weep when I leave to go home without him.

There must be a way of making this better – there must be. So many of my ideas have failed and, with each contingency, I have to rethink things again, over and over again, which is silly really because nobody can plan, organize, predict or be ready for a contingency.

And it seems self-indulgent to blog about a single situation when a hurricane had just devastated and killed so many, when millions are affected by ongoing wars, when children are being hurt, animals abandoned, forests dessimated – almost too overhwhelming to comprehend from my tiny little space of the here and now.

Once upon a time, Ants and I would have talked about these contingencies with gusto and passion because they were not our contingencies and we could philosophize from our coccoon of safeness.

Now we flutter, like moths with missing wings.

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Are you asleep yet?

Are you asleep yet, my beautiful husband?

Midnight approaches me with dark, unfamiliar claws, so I go outside to find some moonlight but it is pitch black out there and, when I can’t find the moon, I race back inside frightened.

The dogs are barking at a moonless sky but they will soon settle.

Are you asleep yet, my beautiful husband?

You said the other day that you just wanted to sleep wth me but you have forgotten that we have not slept in the same bed since the evening when you could no longer reach the height of the bed and I wasn’t strong enough to lift you into it, and we had to put you into the smaller, lower bed in what we always called the spare room.

I know.

I know you have forgotten those years of tortured, sleepless nights for both of us -, me in the big bedroom, you in the spare room but calling me, calling me, knocking on the wall with your walking stick until, finally I began to sleep in the other small, low bed in the spare room, so that I could help you during those moonful and moonless nights – to pee, to turn over, to be warmer, to be cooler, to get your knees inside the covers, to sleep….

Your dreams were terrifying and you would yell out in your sleepless sleep and I would lie in my bed next to yours hoping it would stop.

Is that what is happening now? Are you still hallucinating about the girl with the bleeding eye, the mob who are chainsawing all of your palm trees to death, the calves on top of the television, the phantoms in the dairy?

The peacocks are crying, crying, crying and their sound is a haunting lullaby.

Are you asleep yet, my beautiful husband?

Please say yes. All you have to do is whisper it and I will hear you, I will hear you.

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The excursion

This morning, the nursing lodge bus came out at 10am with ‘the men’s group’. It was a great success!

Staff, residents and volunteers

Morning tea

Godfrey’s gang did their contortionist act but were outshone by an impromptu perfomance by the turkeys

Anthony and me

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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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Apology

I decided to edit out the following sentence from my ‘rage’ post of yesterday: “Of course none of those professionals really care, do they.”

That was a dreadful overgeneralization for which I apologize.  The focus of my rage was on the doctor who did not return my calls for three weeks and who took just as long to even refer Anthony to the surgeon.

Now Anthony is on the urgent list for cancellations. It’s a public holiday today so tomorrow I will ring the surgeon’s office and ask if there are any cancellations and then I will just keep ringing until it happens.

I  will not panic. It is not an emergency so the hospital idea is out.

Most of the professionals who have looked after Anthony, and continue to look after him, are wonderful, caring people.

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