jmgoyder

wings and things

Daybreak, heartbreak and other breaks

Yesterday, Ming went to see Anthony at the nursing home at around noon because, even though I didn’t see Ants on the weekend (because I was having a bit of a break with my friends at a nearby chalet), on Monday my stupid hands had become a bit infected and very sore and I felt unable to make the journey into town. But by 4pm I couldn’t stand not seeing Ants so I drove into the nursing home and arrived in Anthony’s room at 5pm.

Ming had already told him, earlier in the day, that I wouldn’t be in, so he was surprised and absolutely overjoyed. “My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he kept repeating. His dinner arrived and we shared a beer and I helped him with food, phone and television and then I had to go home again. I was probably in there a bit over an hour and, by the time I left, Ants was a bit confused as he always is in the evenings now. But he was happy! And he didn’t mind that I was going home at all. For me, the relief that he could say goodbye to me happily was so wonderful that I drove home on a bit of a high.

But every day is different of course. So today, when Ming and I visited for a couple of hours in the early afternoon, Anthony became so sad when we had to go (including begging us to take him with us) that it broke my heart all over again because he even articulated it: “When you both leave, I get so upset.”

Ming is better at handling this than I am. “Dad – pull yourself together! We’ll see you tomorrow!” For me it is much more difficult to extricate myself from Anthony’s heartbreak so I tend to prolong goodbyes with so many kisses and hugs that Ming nearly vomits!

I guess, because I don’t have a routine of what time I visit Ants (except that it is nearly every day), and the fact that I am not bringing him home so much, because he is too heavy now and quite often unable to move or walk without help, every single day has become an unpredictable journey of fear. The other wives of the other men Anthony’s age all have a routine; they visit their husbands at the same time every day, but these wives are in their 70s or 80s and live nearby.

This is not me complaining or asking for advice; it’s more of an attempt to give some insight into the unpredictable nature of PDD (Parkinson’s Disease Dementia) and how one day, no matter what time of day, Ants might say, “Okay, see you tomorrow, Jules” and the next day it might be “Please don’t leave me, Jules!” I can never know what to expect in any way at all – again, no matter what time of day, although evenings are worse – lucidity, confusion, joy, fear, confusion, love, hope, conversation, confusion, helplessness, uncertainty, disorientation, confusion, misery ….

To grasp my husband’s big, old hands with my younger infected hands today was very painful because he had a grip I haven’t felt for a long time – he held on tightly until I said “You’re hurting my hands, Ants!” and he immediately released them. It was worth it though, because he lost his grip a couple of years ago (PD).

On a lighter note, I am having a break from cooking tea for Ming because, for the first time ever, he is doing it all by himself – yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And the ducklings took a break from Godfrey (when he wasn’t looking!) to take bread out of my hands.

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It is quite possible, of course, that, due to recent circumstances, I have either had, or am having, a nervous breakdown. That would be a very convenient excuse for not answering the phone, not opening a month’s worth of mail, not keeping up with blogs, and blogging in a way that is almost ridiculously high and low – sorry!

Oh, Home and Away is on in 5 minutes – now that is a break from reality – haha!

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Duckling update

Well the three ducklings have grown so quickly that they are almost too big to squeeze through the fence of the yard I put the gang in at night. They free range with their ‘minders’ all day.

Here’s a picture of Seli and Godfrey guarding the Twins.

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And here’s one of Ola watching over a sleeping Michael Jackson (the dancing duckling).

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I took a whole lot of better photos of all of them but had to delete these because Ming’s smashed ute (truck) was in the background. The gang + ducklings tend to hang out underneath it because it is near the pond. We have covered the smashed-in front of the ute with a blanket so that visitors, especially family, won’t be upset if they see it. The rest of the ute looks normal, with the tray intact. I wish we could get rid of it but we are stuck with it in the back yard for now until we try again to claim some insurance. Every morning and every evening, when I let the gang out, or put them into the yard, I have to walk past the ute.

There is also a clear view of the ute from the kitchen window, a constant reminder of the accident and everything since. And when I frolic in the dirt, and offer prayers to the sky, and watch the pea-chicks climb the avocado tree, or cry until my body is cramped like a dead leaf, I am always right next to the ute.

Ming brought Ants home for the afternoon yesterday and I (rather dramatically) threw myself into his chest and soaked him with some of these endless, futile, enormous tears. He held me and said nice things to me and then asked me about the ducklings.

“When are we eating them?” he asked.

I stopped crying immediately. “What the hell are you talking about? We are not eating them, Ants!”

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The Peacock Family Adventures 1

This is my first attempt at a children’s picture book story – very much a first draft, but lots of fun. It’s dedicated to M, J, T, M and K.

The Peacock family lived on a little farm called Paradise.

Daddy Peacock’s name was King because he had the most powerful beak in the world.

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Mummy Peahen’s name was Queenie. King and Queenie loved each other very much.

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King and Queenie eventually had three peachicks: a little girl called True, and the twins, Kungfu and Mischief. When they were little, Queenie would organize tree-climbing competitions. She would fly to the top of the huge avocado tree and say, ‘ready, set, go!’ True always won because she was the biggest.

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The twins, Kungfu and Mischief, tried their best but they could never beat True to the top of the tree.

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Sometimes they all fell down to the ground but they never hurt themselves because Queenie showed them how to use their wings like parachutes. True already knew she had wings so, when Queenie was having her afternoon nap, True showed her little sister and brother how to fly.

When Kungfu learned to fly, he was so happy he flew straight into his dad’s feathers – BANG. But King didn’t mind at all because he had plenty of feathers and he loved to show them off.

Mischief was very good at tricks. She would sometimes pretend to fall out of the tree so that King would have to catch her. But King wasn’t fooled. He would play hide-and-seek with Mischief until she gave up and called ‘Daddy”. Then he would say BOO!

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Kungfu was the first peachick to grow feathers and every day he practised doing what his dad did. It was very hard to begin with but one day, he did it!

But True, being such a truthful peahen, would say, “Kungfu, you look ridiculous!” Then they would have an argument and Mischief would laugh and laugh and laugh, but very quietly.

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Mischief, being such a mischievous peahen, knew exactly how to laugh without looking like she was laughing. After all, she didn’t want to hurt Kungfu‘s feelings.

But Kungfu always knew when Mischief was laughing at him so he would wait until she was looking at her reflection in the pond and WHAMMO he would bite her big toes – both of them.

King and Queenie decided that they needed to talk to their children about their behaviour.

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“Do you think Mischief is a bit too mischievous, Darling?” asked Queenie.

“No, Sweetie-pie. She’s just growing up. I’m more worried that she will fall into her reflection in the pond,” said King.

“Yes, I’ll talk to her about that. What about True – do you think she is a bit too truthful, Darling?” asked Queenie.

“Yes and no. She really needs to stop pushing Kungfu‘s buttons,” said King, wisely.

“How can we stop Kungfu from biting Mischief‘s toes?” asked Queenie.

King thought for a moment.

“I have a good idea, Sweetie-pie. Let’s see if True can ask the sky. She is really good at that.”

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That night, as the Peacock Family settled down for the night, high up in the avocado tree, True waited until everyone was asleep, then she asked the sky.

And the big, red, pink, orange, yellow, beautiful sky answered her.

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Then, all of a sudden, Kungfu turned over in his sleep and accidentally kicked True off her branch.

To be continued ….

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A disco duckling, a haughty gander, and a very depressed turkey

The little duckling in the centre of this photo is distinct from the other two because s/he is smaller and paler. But, after what I witnessed the other evening, I have decided to call this duckling Michael Jackson.

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I had put the gang, including ducklings, into their yard for the night, then turned the hose on the avocado tree which is right behind Ming’s shed where he now lives. As soon as I turned the hose on, Michael Jackson squeezed through the fence and began swimming in the growing puddle. The other two ducklings (the ‘Twins’ because they are identical) followed Michael Jackson to the puddle, so I had to let Godfrey out again in order to herd them back in. He gave me his usual ‘look’ – a combination of ferocity and disdain.

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At that very moment, Ming began to play his guitar very loudly and the birds and I got a bit of a fright. Well, little Michael Jackson went crazy and I nearly ran to Ming’s shed to tell him to stop the noise until I realized that the duckling was actually dancing! It ran around in circles, twirled around in the puddle of water, threw itself at the twins and frolicked madly. When Ming stopped playing his guitar for a few moments, the duckling just stood still, as if waiting, then, when Ming resumed, the whole happy dance thing happened again. It’s one of the funniest things I have ever seen and I wish I had it on video.

Godfrey watched fondly, as I did, then I turned the hose off and he herded Michael Jackson and the twins back into the yard.

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The only lonely one now is Baby Turkey because we lost Bubble, his main companion months ago. Baby Turkey now prefers to be in his own yard, away from the happiness of the geese and ducks. He sleeps a lot but when he gets up he still looks so sad. I have decided to try and find him a mate, a female turkey, so that he will be happy again and am hoping that the place where I got the ducklings will have one to spare. They have turkey chicks so maybe they will sell me one of the mothers.

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Baby Turkey’s loneliness is a constant reminder of Anthony’s. I have not been allowed into the nursing home for a few days because I have a chest infection, so Ming and my mother have been in several times and I am relying on phone chats with Ants. He doesn’t understand that I am sick; he just seems to think I am neglecting him and I got a phone-call the other morning from one of the nurses, to say he didn’t want to get out of bed. I ended up speaking to him but he was quite incoherent. This is the first time I have known him to be like this in the morning because this usually happens in the evening.

I don’t know why the quote ‘This is how it is’ resonates so powerfully for me; after all, it is a statement of the obvious. I like it though because it beckons some sort of response, it curls around a sort of question, and it invites a sort of acceptance.

Sort of!

Godfrey and I have agreed to disagree, and I still love him.

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How Queenie puts her peachicks to bed

This evening I sat outside from around 5 – 7pm as Queenie began the ritual of taking her kids to bed up in the avocado tree. First, she wandered around with them following her, digging into the ground with her big feet to give the chicks insects, showing them how to drink from a shallow bowl I’d put near the avocado tree, finding the wheat always there for all of the birds. At first I was a bit alarmed to find the little family out of the pen as early as 5pm but I guess they are now a bit beyond the pen and like to wander around the yard and back paddock freely. King (obviously the dad) stayed with them for ages, protectively.

I have maintained a respectful distance but they all come close to me anyway; they trust me and seem to rather like the flash of the camera. The photos I have put here show their long, but enjoyable, journey to bed but this is the first time I have seen the finale. I was amazed to see how the two peachicks can actually fly quite high now from branch to branch, up and up, and until they reach their mother. Queenie clucks until they get to her.

Of course the two peachicks are still extremely vulnerable; they might be taken by crows, they might drown in the pond (now that they are out of the yards), but I am hopeful that wise Queenie will prevent these possible catastrophes and King is right by her side for much of the time.

In watching this beautiful bedtime ritual, I remembered how much the birds helped me cope with the misery of Anthony’s illness, the nursing home process, Ming’s spinal operation and so many other things. Now the birds are helping me to cope with a whole new set of miseries which I blogged about yesterday, then trashed because it was all too sad. In trashing the post, I guess I also trashed the comments and I apologize for this and am grateful for those comments. Now I think the best thing is to get back to these beautiful birds for awhile.

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As usual Gutsy9 became really jealous and insisted that I took her photo too.
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Tonight, I would love to be one of Queenie’s peachicks, up high in the avocado tree, under her gentle wings.

But I am a bit too big!

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Anthony’s 78th birthday yesterday

The photos are courtesy of my ma, Meg, and nieces, Jane and Ashtyn. It was all fairly low key because of Anthony’s inability to cope in a crowd (with Parkinson’s disease, it is very difficult to focus on more than one thing).

Ants, Ming and I spoiled each other with birthday gifts yesterday; mine was a ridiculous amount of cheese; Ming’s was a Scottish kilt; and Anthony’s was a shirt that he was not enthralled with. And the sprinkling of friends and relatives was perfect. Jane, as usual, gave us all presents, Ashtyn took a million photos and my ma did the tea and coffee stuff. Geoff, a wonderful guy who used to work here, brought a cake which was great because Julie (not me, my sil) was complaining about the lack of one haha!

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Ming took Ants back to the nursing home at around 4.30pm because he was exhausted. I would have invited more people but it would have been too hard. I did invite a few more but they couldn’t come which was actually a relief because I couldn’t remember who I had invited! Plus Ming and I wanted to take Ants over the road to have a drink with his brother but, by 4pmish, we could see this would be impossible. It took three of us to even get Ants into the car to go back to the nursing home, but I didn’t cry for a change.

Small parties are the best! Happy birthday, Ants.

PS. Would anyone like some cheese?

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Say ‘cheese’!

Today is Anthony’s 78th birthday – February 4/1936. Ming and I didn’t do much for our January birthdays in terms of gifts because we decided to ‘save’ our birthdays for Anthony’s, if that makes sense. Ming is about to go and pick Anthony up from the nursing home to come to the farm for the afternoon. As Ants can’t deal with crowds anymore, I have just asked a sprinkling of people over; after all, it is a workday, not a weekend.

Ming suggested we get each other two presents each so he and I exchanged ours this morning. I will show you more of the ‘goods’ later when I have photos, but just want to show you what Ming got me!

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Well, technically, the blue cheese is for Ants but we all know that I will eat most of it!

Ahhhh – cheese bliss!

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Listen to me!

It is over ten years since I completed my PhD in cultural studies; my thesis focused on the importance of listening to the storying of people with Alzheimer’s Disease. It was not a scientific thesis (and at the time I had no idea what the difference between qualitative and quantitative research was); it was more of an exploratory study of the art and gift of listening.

My interest in how listening might help/give comfort was inspired by the various patients in the nursing home in which I worked at the time – in particular a guy who I called ‘Joe’ who seemed to think I was his long-deceased fiancee.

After I graduated, I rewrote the thesis as a book and it was published – We’ll be married in Fremantle. This is not a plug for the book, as it was published way back in 2001, and not a best seller by any means, although it was shortlisted for various prizes for nonfiction.

I remember Anthony being so proud of me, for the PhD and then the book (Ming was a little kid then and Anthony was in good health), but I also remember, after all those years of academic study, how the simple art of listening would always be important to me.

Listening isn’t as easy as it sounds because sometimes it is difficult to shut up, refrain from giving advice etc. I make this mistake all the time with Ants and Ming (for different reasons, obviously), but now I am re-learning my own advice – to just listen.

Tonight, Ming said, “Mum, just listen to me!” and I did, and I shut my mouth, and I learned more about my open-hearted son than I have for ages.

Okay, before I get too sentimental, we are getting some ducklings tomorrow to keep our only duck company – I am so excited!

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Surreal

I saw Anthony this afternoon at the nursing home, and I showed him my blistered, peeling, bleeding hands and feet and told him that I had seen a doctor who had prescribed cortisone cream.

The doctor was more fascinated than concerned, when I told him I thought I had ‘pompholyx’. So, while I scratched away at my itchy hands and feet, he looked it up and confirmed my self-diagnosis. I just wish he hadn’t insisted on looking at my always-dirty-from-the-chook-yard feet – oh well.

Anyway, as I was telling Anthony all of this in my usual dramatic way, he pointed to his own hands and said he had the same thing. Well of course he didn’t have the same thing – it was just skin cancers on his old hands but I appreciated his empathy.

But then he whispered to me that it might be Parkinson’s disease and this is how our conversation unfolded:

Anthony: There is a doctor here who knows about it.
Me: About what?
Anthony: Your hands, this – he has black hair, young guy.
Me: Is he the doctor replacing the one on holidays?
Anthony: I don’t know, but don’t trust him, Jules.
Me: Why?
Anthony: He wants all of the Parkinson’s people in an experiment.
Me: Oh Ants it’s probably just a student doing a survey – is he asking you questions?
Anthony: Yes, personal. Don’t tell him anything, Jules.
Me: Ants, do you think you might be imagining or hallucinating some of this?
Anthony: I don’t know, maybe – oh and the family came this morning to take this place over.
Me: The Goyders?
Anthony: Yes – there’s a lot of money – be careful.
Me: I’ll check it out if you check out that whole doctor thing.
Anthony: One of them has red hair.
Me: That’s the priest isn’t it?
Anthony: No, the doctor – another one….
Me: I have to go now, Ants but I’ll be back tomorrow.
Anthony: Why do you have to go?
Me: It’s getting late, I have to get groceries, go to the chemist and look after Mingy.
Anthony: But where do you live now?
Me: I live at Bythorne, silly, on the farm!
Anthony: Do I still have a corner room there?
Me: Yes, but I can’t look after you overnight now because you are too heavy.
Anthony: But it’s still my farm.
Me: Your beautiful, beautiful farm, Ants, and Ming and I are taking care of it.

After this conversation, we hugged and kissed and I came home to Anthony’s resounding absence.

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Sundown

Ever since the peachicks entered our lives, over a week ago, everybird has become very attentive at sundown, including this young couple (the peahen is the second one to finally return although without chicks).
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Prince is also quite interested in how Queenie gets the chicks to bed (notice how he has lost all of his long tail feathers – all the peacocks have now).
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Gutsy9 is a bit jealous and is always right next to me. If I crouch down, she offers her neck to be stroked.
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While Queenie is stirring the chicks up, preparing them for their bedtime transition to the avocado tree, I put the geese, duck and turkey into their yard for the night. I have been trying to flood their pen in order to create a kind of pond for them and it is working.
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Queenie and the peachicks take ages to get ready for bed.
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So I take a photo of the fig tree while I wait.
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The younger peahen flies into the yard to encourage Queenie.
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King (undoubtedly the father) also flies into the yard and takes a protective stance.
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And then the magic begins. The bigger chick actually leads the way!
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Queenie has to help the smaller chick.
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But it comes back down again to say goodnight to me.
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This is around the same time (7.30-8pm) that Anthony often suffers ‘Sundowner syndrome’ so, once I leave the birds and go into the house, I always ring the nursing home to say goodnight to him. As he almost never answers the phone himself I usually have to get the nurse-in-charge to enable a conversation. Lately Ants has been okay, delusional but not upset. He often thinks he is either at boarding school, a hospital, a party, or a pub.

I tell him about the birds, and say goodnight, with a sense of tentative peace, which is probably how Queenie feels at the top of that avocado tree (can you spot her?)
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