jmgoyder

wings and things

‘Thunking’

IMG_4655Thinking versus thunking (I like thunking!)

3.10am: There is something quite exciting about hopping out of bed at 3am, wide awake, dashing to my writing room and switching on the computer and, aha, engaging with various friends. It seems somehow illicit to be up and about, drinking coffee while the sky is still black night, listening to absolute silence, reading thousands of words, smiling at photos on my screen ….

4.03am: Me chuckling that it is now just after 4am and nobody is going to tell me to go to bed.

4.38am: Ming’s favourite phrase is “Do what you want to do!” This type of 21-year-old wisdom sustains and motivates me whenever I am stuck. I feel grateful for this wonderful son of ours who, having recovered from two spinal surgeries, his father’s transition from home to nursing home, the car accident that injured so many and was his fault ….

For all of the above reasons I prefer to thunk rather than think because too much thinking can do your head in whereas thunking allows you to step aside. It might be just a tiny step (an ‘i’ to a ‘u’) but it makes a hell of a difference!

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Routine to the rescue

I’m not crazy about the idea of routine and now that I am once again a lady of leisure unemployed, there is even less incentive to exit the world of spontaneity and knuckle down.

In my recent interview with the finding-another-job people, I stated that I only wanted part-time work because I liked to spend the afternoons with Anthony in the nursing home. I also stated that I would be happy to do something completely different from my previous jobs (lecturer, nurse etc.) So it’s with a degree of mild excitement that I am now looking at outside-the-box possibilities. We shall see!

In the meantime, I have settled into a routine of being with Anthony from just before noon until about 4pm. This way, I can help him with his lunch; make sure he is warm enough; get him comfortable in his electrical armchair; give him chocolate, bananas and beer (but not all at the same time); and just be there, very close, one hand on his head and the other hand inside both of his.

This arrangement is great and our mutual friends and relatives now visit us at the nursing home. I am free to make visitors coffee or tea (our friend, C, visited this afternoon and it actually did feel like we were all home at the farm). I also have plenty of long-lasting snacks in Anthony’s cupboard, you know, like nuts and stuff, plus red wine, brandy, scotch and warm beer. The ready availability of this kind of sustenance also helps to make Anthony’s room homey and, I hope, welcoming.

If I am meeting friends for lunch, I simply go to see Anthony a bit later in the afternoon and then stay later in order to help him with his dinner. So I think the fact that I am now always there in the afternoon has become something he can now rely on; it gives both of us a definite daily expectation. It also frees my whole morning up so I can do other things like the exhilarating tasks of housework, washing and cooking for a fussy son ha!

Sometimes I feel incredibly lazy and unproductive sitting on the side of Anthony’s armchair with him, watching Dr Phil or a television series, or Master Chef. But, thanks to either the ‘pause’ or ‘mute’ buttons, I can always stop whatever show is on and we can converse with each other and/or visitors, AND the wonderful staff who are so affectionate and friendly to both of us

Today, Anthony was quite vocal and ‘with-it’ until about 3pm when he thought his mother’s eye-glasses were on the floor (yes, the hallucinations are getting worse but not distressing yet, like they used to be at home).

Anthony: You are popular, Jules.
Me: What do you mean?
Anthony: Everyone always wants to know when you will be here.
Me: No, it is YOU who is popular, Ants! The staff here love you!
Anthony: I don’t think so – I think it’s you.
Me: Rubbish, Ants!
Anthony: I beg to differ.

But a couple of hours after this lucid conversation, as I was about to leave to come home:

Me: I’m off now to do the grocery shopping, Ants, okay?
Anthony: Is everything in the shed?
Me: Of course!
Anthony: What about the calves?
Me: They’re fine; Ming is taking care of it – don’t worry.
Anthony: Don’t be too long, Jules.
Me: I’ll be back as soon as I can.

And, after one last kiss, hug, joke, lie, I come back home to this beautiful farm and begin to accept that this new routine is working.

Anthony’s face is no longer as expressionless as it was six months ago….

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He is smiling again!

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“I’m gonna love you like I’m gonna lose you….”

There are many lines in this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DC8FsIdVi9Y that echo one of my many recurring dreams about Anthony and me.

When I last posted, I described a dream where Ants had miraculously recovered; now that is definitely a beautiful dream.

A less beautiful, recurring dream is the one about death. In this dream, Anthony is dead and my dream-self is grief-stricken. But then my real-self wakes up from the dream and realises that he is alive after all. Many of the lyrics of the this song really got to me and are as follows:

I found myself dreaming…
Split second and you disappeared…
Wake up in tears with you by my side…
Breath of relief when I realised…
Whenever we’re standing…
No, we’re not promised tomorrow

Ming of course is not at all keen on either listening to, or reading, the lyrics of this song and, now that he has become musically superior to me, he likes to throw me his opinions:

It’s soooo repetitive, Mum!
It’s so cliched – oh, Mum, you can’t possibly like this song!
NO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR ROMANCE!
Yes, let’s have a chat about love … I like this girl who….
NO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR HEARTBREAK!
I’m off to my shed now, Mum. Love you!

I think I might just listen to the song one more time before I go to bed because I don’t care what the Ming says, this has become my song for Anthony.

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Sundown

When the day begins to close its curtains on the sun, people with advanced dementia often become restless. This kind of agitation is called ‘Sundowner syndrome’ and I’ve written about it before.

Anthony is definitely affected by the syndrome and, by around 4pm, he is quietly distressed and confused. I am adapting as well as I can to the difference between 11am and 5pm; i.e. at 11am Ants is lucid and able to express himself verbally, but by 3pm he sometimes thinks that the television show (at the moment Doc Martin) is actually happening in real life, and by 4pm he begins to descend into such a state of confusion that when I say, “Okay I’m off to get some wine”, he just replies, “Don’t be too long, Jules!”

The domestic and care staff at this nursing home are so wonderful and many have become friends; they all know that it is best to say to Anthony that ‘Jules will be back soon’.

Today I bumped into the wife of a beautiful man who, before he died a year ago, was next door to Anthony. She is elderly too and using a walking frame. Let’s call her Trudy.

Trudy: So how is your husband?

Me: Very confused now … well, you know how it is.

Trudy: You wonder what they are really thinking don’t you.

Me: Yes. You must miss him so much.

Trudy: It’s a year now.

And her eyes filled up.

Anthony and I are so lucky to have each other and he is luckier than most because he has a younger wife who is determined to ensure he is cared for. It is a bit of a unique situation because most of the residents’ spouses are either deceased or struggling with their own health challenges.

When I visited a totally lucid 95-year-old woman today, she expressed so much concern about her 70-ish son that I felt a bit awestruck by her courage and compassion.

Jane: He had to have a shoulder operation.

Me: So when will he be back?

Jane: So what’s your name again?

Me: Julie – you know, my husband is two rooms down. How’s your pain?

Jane: It’s not the pain, I just feel so exhausted all the time as if I’ve been run over by something.

Me: Like a truck?

MUTUAL LAUGHTER

I want to keep writing about this ongoing story of dementia; I want to critique the various interventions that are in place; but I also just want to BE with Ants.

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Day off

I decided to take a day off from visiting Anthony so just texted Ming to visit after work and he texted “Sure” – brilliant!

Instead I have been catching up with laundry and housework and further decluttering. It’s astounding how making myself accountable to Dina is so effective!

The weather is winter warm so at one point I took off my jacket and …
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Well at least it wasn’t a cockroach!

My feeding of wheat to the peafowl and guinnea fowl is deliberately haphazard because there is plenty of ‘food’ for them without the wheat and I don’t like them getting too dependent. Nevertheless as soon as they hear the back door open, they start running towards me – it’s so funny.
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Then there is quite a bit of competition as to who gets to eat first.
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Yes, I know she looks like Gutsy but she isn’t.

After they’ve eaten their fill, they bask in the winter sunshine.
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I’m a bit rusty with the photography but wanted to take a few new photos to show the women I’m visiting in the nursing home, three of whom are not in the dementia cottage. Yesterday I visited Gertrude (not her real name) who has only recently become a resident. She has Parkinson’s disease too and she was commiserating with me about Anthony who she said was “so young!” I guess 79-year-old people do seem young to 90-year-old people! At one point we discussed the pros and cons of diseases:

Gertrude: Tell me, which do you think is worse – Parkinson’s disease or that other one? (She pointed to her head)

Me: You mean Alzheimer’s disease?

Gertrude: Yes.

Me: Well Anthony has both now so I’m not sure ….

Gertrude: Both? This isn’t fair for him.

Me: Well it’s not Alzheimer’s exactly; it’s dementia caused by his kind of Parkinson’s disease.

Gertrude: I don’t have that.

Me: No, I can see that! You don’t have the shaking thing either and Anthony is the same.

Gertrude: I’m improving and sitting in this chair is so much better than lying in that bed.

Me: Do you have pain?

Gertrude: Just a bit of arthritis. Nothing much.

Me: I’m so glad. Anthony doesn’t have pain either – such a blessing.

We exchanged a smile and a hug and I went back to Anthony’s room which is in a different section.

Well I better get back to finishing the jobs I need to list as “done” for my email to Dina tonight!

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Home away from home

I wake up every morning, alone in this old, cold, quiet farm house, and smile into the memories of when it was full of warmth, people, noise. I know I should light the Aga, get the fireplace blazing, turn the radio on loud, make scrambled eggs, but Ming has already gone to work and I’m not hungry.

So I get showered and dressed fast, so I can go to the nursing home to be with Anthony for the day. His room has now become my home-away-from-home so much so that I want to be there more than I want to be here.

I like to get there at around 11am but sometimes it’s not until the early afternoon (depending on other various commitments). This daily reunion is fantastic:

Me: DAAAAAAARLING!
Anthony: How do you always know where to find me?
Me: I’m a genius!

Then, after a hug/kiss embrace, I proceed to tidy the room a bit, move his chair so I can put my chair beside his, turn the heater on (it should always be on but sometimes isn’t), put a blanket on his knees, have a chat, help him with lunch or afternoon tea.

Once settled, we watch whatever series I have on hand. House of Cards is our current choice and Ants loves the Britishness of this and I love the plot!

So, in this home-away-from home nursing home room, I put my feet up onto Anthony’s lap and we are together.

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These boots were made for walking ….

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I have just returned from a delightful couple of days in Perth with a wonderful friend. She flew down from up north and I drove up from down south and we stayed at a beautiful resort, shared some fine wine, extraordinary pizzas, watched a very complicated movie twice (because we didn’t ‘get it’ the first time), and enjoyed chef-styled breakfasts each morning.

It was brilliant! We each had various big-city things we had to do so yesterday we went our different ways for a few hours and I visited my friend, Rose, at Dimario http://dimario.com.au

Dimario is a shop that is close to my heart for many reasons (for example, I love boots). But the main reason is that several years ago, when Anthony wasn’t so ill, we walked in and I fell in love with a pair of boots that were extremely expensive and extremely beautiful. Ants and I had to go back to our hotel room to mull it over and, despite being a rather scroogy careful-with-money person back then, he wanted me to have those boots.

From then on, whenever we went to Perth (which was only once a year), Anthony would actually suggest going to Dimario. Rose and Nikki would welcome us like old friends and Ants would watch as I tried the various boots on, usually convincing me to get the better, more elegant and expensive ones.

Then, one year, it became too hard for him to get out of the car; another year, it became too difficult for me to take him from the hotel to the shop, so I went by myself; another year, he was in a hospital in Perth having his Parkinson’s Disease medications reassessed; another year Ming came with me and cloned Anthony in picking out the best pair of boots; another year we didn’t go to Perth at all as Anthony’s health had deteriorated too much. I guess that was around four years ago and my memory of this phase in our lives blurs a bit around the edges.

To see Rose again yesterday, despite the fact that it’s probably been a couple of years now since I visited her gorgeous shop, was incredible. I was greeted with a hug!

Rose: And how is your beautiful husband?

Me: He’s in a nursing home now but he still remembers you and I need to buy some boots so I can wear them to the nursing home and remind him again.

Rose: I will always look after you; what about these?

Me: Not me – I rather like those….

Rose: And how is your beautiful son?

Me: Still beautiful. What about those embroidered boots?

Rose: They’re on sale – let me see if we have your size.

Rose then told me that Nikki had retired but had a pair of the same boots and I asked her to give Nikki our love. She said she would, then, when the boots were a perfect fit, Rose discounted them even further, I bought them and we had another hug as I left.

After that, I picked my friend up and we went back to the resort. We shared a mutual admiration of our purchases then began (again!) to watch the stupid movie and order pizza.

Today, I dropped my friend at the airport and headed home. We are going to meet like this every few months; it’s a wonderful arrangement and, even though she and I have lost touch on and off over the decades, we are still the same buddies we were as teenagers.

And I can’t wait to show Anthony my new boots tomorrow!

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Still Anthony

A couple of years ago I read Lisa Genova’s novel, Still Alice and, over the last couple of days, Anthony and I watched the movie. For those who haven’t seen or read the story, Still Alice is about how a linguistics professor, Alice, is diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s disease at the age of 50 and how she and the family cope.

I suppose it was a strange choice of film to watch with a husband who has Parkinson’s disease dementia (and was probably a contributing factor in the grief I felt the other evening). But yesterday, as he and I watched the final scenes, he suddenly became quite engaged in Alice’s deterioration, and asked me what was wrong with her. I keep the dvd controller close so I can pause whatever we are watching whenever Anthony says anything.

Me: She has Alzheimer’s disease.
Anthony: It’s worse now, isn’t it.
Me: Yes.

I had paused the film at a particularly stark close-up of Alice’s confused expression (Julianne Moore is brilliant as the character Alice). Anthony and I both looked at her face for a few moments then I hit the play button again and we watched silently as the movie came to an end.

Unlike Alice, Anthony has not had to experience the creeping horror of knowing he has dementia. He still doesn’t know and I don’t tell him because I don’t want him to be afraid or embarrassed. So, when he asks where his mother is, or how she is (this is a frequent question) I just say that she is fine.

Anthony: Is she at home?
Me: Yes.
Anthony: Is Ming there too?
Me: Yes, and they’re both fine.
Anthony: So when are we going to Golden Valley?
Me: When the weather gets warmer, Ants. It’s too cold today.

Anthony’s mother died over 30 years ago and Golden Valley was his childhood home so the only ‘real’ aspect to these conversations is Ming.

I’ve recovered from my grief episode of the other evening and, since watching Still Alice, realise how lucky we are that Anthony has never had to go through that fear-of-dementia experience because it has just happened, insidiously, slowly, kindly even. He doesn’t know he has dementia; he still recognises all of us; there is still a lot of laughter and Anthony’s one-liners are hilarious.

Anthony: You need to brush your hair.
Me: I just did!
Anthony: Do it again, it’s not right.
Me: I’ll shave your head if you keep hassling me!
Anthony: Feisty!

Still Anthony.

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Paperwork phobia

I have a bit of a paperwork phobia.

I don’t go to the post office anymore because it is too scary. Ming usually collects the mail on his way home and brings it to me in my writing room. I politely thank him or else say:

TAKE IT AWAY, TAKE IT AWAY, TAKE IT AWAY – JUST EAT IT!

I don’t quite know why I have this phobia because most of these letters are relatively harmless, even innocuous, and I pay most of the bills online because I don’t have an email phobia (luckily). It would be good to admit that my paperwork phobia was due to my objection to so many trees being cut down to create all of this mail but, even though I agree with myself here, it’s not that. It’s more to do with the envelopes and what might be inside them.

So the letter(s) sit on my desk briefly, threateningly, until I throw carefully place them, unopened, into the box of things-to-do.

Once the box is full, I take it to the nursing home and place it on Anthony’s bed. We hug and I explain it is a ‘paperwork day’ and that I need his moral support. It is only then that I have the courage to open all of the envelopes, file anything important and trash the rest. This usually takes about 10 minutes.

Okay so this is a bit tongue-in-cheek but also very true. I literally can’t seem to do the paperwork unless Anthony is by my side and, once it’s done, I am so happy that I get a bit frolicky and this gets a smile.

I also have a bit of a phone phobia ….

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Anthony’s room

Every day I look forward to going in to the nursing home to be with Anthony. His room has now become home to me; Ming throws his big self onto the bed, my mother knits, friends and relatives visit us here, and staff are welcoming with cups of tea and jokes. I love being in this room.

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