jmgoyder

wings and things

Catching up

After weeks of fighting a tenacious flu that kept coming back after each course of antibiotics, I finally got a chest x-ray which was clear (phew!) but my dr seems to think it was probably a case of pneumonia treated with the wrong antibiotics (I saw another dr to begin with because mine wasn’t on duty). So now I am on a fifth course of two different antibiotics and already feeling a lot better instead of a little bit better. It is such a relief because, despite being well enough for my mama’s 80th b’day and well enough to visit Ants most days and to do some volunteer work, it is only now that I am beginning to feel normal well ha!

As my role as ‘care-giver’ has become most of my identity now, I have a bit of a terror problem when I get sick because I am so needed by Anthony so to have been given the gift of a clear chest x-ray is like gold!

I’ve been trying to catch up and re-connect with blogger friends but have now decided to simply read blogs in a from-now-on mode rather than go back to see what I might’ve missed. It’s been a bit of a relief, too, to let go of the self-imposed feeling of obligation to blog every day if I just don’t have the time or inclination. Perhaps someone should write a book about blog psychology because I get the impression that other bloggers often suffer the same kind of ridiculous guilt. Interesting.

My volunteering at the nursing home, though interrupted by this flu, because you are not supposed to go in there if you are sick (paradoxically, this is probably where I first got infected), continues to delight me and I have now sent an ‘expression of interest’ email in response to last week’s advertisement for a “lifestyle assistant” in the dementia wing. This is a permanent part-time position from 3-6pm for someone to provide activities while the nursing staff conduct the evening showers. As I have already been volunteering in this wing from 3-4pm on the weekends, I am familiar with each of the ten residents and have developed a bit of a rapport. Tomorrow I will fill out the application form and hope for the best. I think this kind of arrangement would be a perfect match and hopefully there will be no perceived conflict of interest as Anthony is not in the dementia wing. I am quite excited about this job possibility and the money would be a relief!

Ming has a job he loves at a restaurant called ‘Corners on King’ so he is gradually becoming independent financially and in other ways. He hates for me to make him any food so my tactic has been to make him a smoothie every morning into which I pack a punch of secret ingredients (if you want to know the secret ingredients you will have to email me!) For those who don’t know, Ming has, from birth, had a rather extraordinary unhungryness – long story which I can’t be bothered telling now but my best illustration of this is the 40C degree day, when he was about one, in which Ants and I had to use a syringe to push a bit of milk into his ungreedy little mouth.

The last few years have been enormously challenging with me having to resign from my job as university lecturer; Anthony’s permanent admission to the nursing home; my mother’s horrifying injuries after falling from her bicycle; the car accident and court case and cousins’ heroic recoveries; Ming’s two scoliosis operations; some friendships rekindled and others on hold; peace, joy, guilt and wretchedness in equal amounts; Ming’s short-lived, but loved, dairy worker job abandoned due to his spine; finding out that you really love eggs on toast; and that if you don’t like what you look like, you need to stop looking at yourself and look away…..

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…. and finding out that the width of hope is immeasurable!

Catchya later….

28 Comments »

Our white-haired boy’s new role

As many of you know, Ming had his second spinal surgery just before Christmas last year at which time he was advised by the surgeon not to resume his job as a dairy hand for our neighbours, or to do any manual job, ever. That was a hard pill to swallow but he swallowed it and, since recovering from the surgery, he has spent the last few months throwing himself into acting auditions (most of which have required him to travel the 200 kms to Perth by train or bus, and vice versa).

He scored many bit-parts: a music video, a ‘student’ in a university advertisement, a couple of paid roles; he has also created a portfolio and is now listed on a website for aspiring actors. In fact, Ming has done so much acting-related stuff in the last few months that I have had trouble keeping up. With no vehicle, and no driving licence, he learned how to use public transport, stay in youth hostels, but he also relied on friends and family for accommodation and transport. It has all been enormous fun and a huge learning curve in so many ways and Ming has become a better net-worker than I have ever been and Anthony’s gregariousness shines out of him.

None of this, however, has proved to be lucrative yet, so Ming started to apply for jobs at restaurants and yesterday he was told that the restaurant, where he has only done a few casual shifts, want him full-time now. I am so elated for him and proud! But he and I are also grateful for the fact that a relative of a friend of one of the owners of this restaurant put in a good word for him. (I haven’t included names here, in order protect the innocent, just in case Ming drops a tray or something haha!)

Today, Ming was working there, so a friend and I went for lunch and it was so weird to watch him in action. The place was very busy and apparently, once he goes full-time, he will be jack-of-all-trades. It was great to watch the way he interacted with customers – he is a natural!

Tonight, he’s gone up to Perth (for the last time for awhile, due to getting full-time work) to play the part of a character in his friend’s university film assignment. He auditioned and got the part last week and here is the irony: he was picked as the character of a son who struggles with his father’s dementia, despite nobody in the film crew knowing his background. I am still a bit gobsmacked.

Anyway, of course I am rejoicing at all of this good news for the white-haired boy (despite no longer being a natural blonde); he will no longer go slightly insane in the nursing home and resort to playing on Anthony’s walker!
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So happy and proud of Ming!

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Beware of the dog: a cautionary tale

I wrote about the accident yesterday, naively thinking that if I regurgitated the stones in my throat, it might be possible to reach a place of calm, cathartic peace. How stupid was that!

The dog was here, again, its initial growl sounding like a lullaby until, once I had written my words down, it began to bark madly as if I had done/said something wrong. So I edited what I had written until the dog swallowed my extra words, until it attacked my thumping heart and painted it red with slices of stillness, until it put its big paw against my throat and whined until I woke up.

Jet black, this dog blends into the evening sky invisibly, sleeps in the pocket of the dark blankets around my feet at night, wakes me up every morning with the audacity of its sudden absence – not my best friend, not my worst enemy, but my closest companion.

Of course I hate the presence of this black dog, and its black eyes, and its black waving tail, and the black fur of its snuggly black snout but recently I have noticed the growing yawn of its absence. Hurray!

That dog was blocking out the sun with its big, dark presence, its ridiculous attempt to be a metaphor, its wolfish editorial antics. Beware of the dog.

I wrote about the accident yesterday, naively thinking that if I regurgitated the stones in my throat, it might be possible to reach a place of calm, cathartic peace. How wonderful was that!

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Ten years ago!

I just found this email draft in my files. I wrote it to Anthony’s doctor and specialist at the time, but I never sent it because I was too shy to be this upfront and personal and, also, neither of them were emailable back then. It gave me a bit of a shock to read my perspective of what was happening to Anthony in 2004, from my new perspective in 2014, mainly because I had lost track of how long Parkinson’s Disease has been part of our lives:

Feb. 2004

[Notes for Drs re Anthony Goyder’s Parkinson’s]

Hello Mike and Robert,

I want to document Anthony’s “condition” before I get so used to it I think it’s normal, whatever the hell normal is. So I am writing to you without Anthony’s knowledge because, from past experience, I have learned that to say this sort of thing in front of him only makes things worse. So this is confidential between you and me. I would hate for him to know that I am this worried and this pissed off.

He presents fairly well to you guys (bravado and all that), then, when we get home and he is back to ‘normal’, he just slumps again. I am struggling with the dilemma of whether to push him to make more of an effort, or to just let him be – ie. I am not sure anymore whether his lassitude, lethargy, lack-lustreness etc. are symptomatic of the Parkinson’s in a physical sense, or if this is a psychological thing – or if this is a side effect of the sinemet.

THINGS I AM NOTICING ABOUT ANTHONY SINCE PARKINSON’S DIAGNOSIS

He has an increased stoop, so much so that he seems to fill more space than he did before and, from behind, he is so bent over that it looks as if he is headless;
His movements are slower – terribly slow; his ability to grasp, pour, reach for, use cutlery, walk etc. – all of these are drastically reduced.
He is exhausted most of the time. He does chores like emptying rubbish into incinerator and long hours of watering garden (switching hoses etc.) but has to sit down often in between all of this. Sometimes he stands for minutes on end outside, looking at the ground. I don’t know what he is thinking.
He seems badly depressed but I’m not sure about this because we still do have a few laughs and great conversations. The main reason I think he might be depressed to the point of needing medication is that he has no energy or incentive or excitement about anything and will not come to watch Ming (our 10 year old) play basketball etc. In fact, Anthony will not go anywhere anymore except extremely reluctantly.
He often doesn’t shave, even if visitors are coming. He wears raggy clothes and he can’t pull his shirts down or his shorts up and doesn’t seem to care. He lies down a lot. He appears morose a lot – I do realise this lack of facial expression is yet another symptom, but sometimes it seems like real moroseness.
He can’t keep up verbally or cognitively with what is going on when Ming and I are having a conversation and he often misses the point of something that is said. This is not terribly noticeable except to Ming and to me. Anthony kind of goes a bit blank or preoccupied and I sometimes have to “translate” what Ming says to him.
Sometimes I may be doing something really mundane like cutting up vegemite sandwiches and he says something bizarre like, “What’s that? Is it meat?” when I’ve only just told him what I’m doing. I do realise this could be an eyesight thing and he refuses to wear glasses, so maybe I’m overreacting – ha.
He has become extremely self-conscious about his appearance (old, bent over etc. – his words, not mine) and avoids all social events.
He will not/cannot drive anymore, except to take Ming to school and pick him up on the days I am at work. The weird and worrying thing about this for me is that he was always car crazy and loved driving but he doesn’t seem to care that he’s lost this. If this is acceptance, fine, but it seems to me that this is a kind of resignation thing. I am not criticizing him – I am worried.
He is ultra dependent on me – my company, my presence. Whenever I go out (except when I go to work), I feel guilty about leaving him.
The drooling thing has nearly stopped, but is still there occasionally. I have always pretended not to notice, of course.

I confronted Anthony about some of these things during our recent row (not really a row, just me upset and him defeated) and his attitude was a silence of sorts – an inability to voice what he must be suffering. Ok, fine, and – yes – I do have empathy and 99% of the time I’m fine with this whole situation. But….

Anthony is worse, in most of the above ways, than when he was diagnosed. To me, this indicates that the sinemet is not quite keeping up with the progression of the disease. He is terribly reluctant to take more pills so it would be great if there were a pill with a higher mg content so he wouldn’t feel as if he were taking heaps. Someone has scared him re the fact that eventually he will become resistant to the drugs.

Once again, I do not want him to know I have said all this to you. It is very important that I seem calm and cool to him and I very much regret being upset and nasty with him the other day. Anthony is not a fighter, once attacked. He is strong, he is resilient, but he seems to crumple in the face of adversity. I do not want him to know any of the bad stuff that may be coming, so please don’t tell him.

Thanks

Julie G

It just feels like yesterday….

31 Comments »

My son, the honest actor

Earlier today I put Ming on a train to Perth because he has applied for numerous roles in various films, including a music video. It’s mostly “extra” work so not paid but I admire his tenacity in trying to get ‘out there’ as an actor. One of the roles requires him to be a scruffy guy at a strip club; another requires him to be a sophisticated guy at a strip club; and the music video requires him to be a NeoNazi in a story about how a young son murders his Nazi father.

Yes, well, mmmm. Anyway, Ming will be staying with various relatives and friends for the next four days and nights. Tonight he will be staying with my eldest niece and her husband (you know, the beautiful people).
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The following night, he will be staying with one of his best friends, and for the last two nights he will be staying with relatives from Anthony’s side of the family.

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Ming hasn’t gone off for many adventures like this and I just realized that I have never been alone on this farm for as long as four days (one or other of the ‘boys’ would be here), so it feels very strange.

The brat’s interests are music and drama (both of which he is good at, but, even though he has some formal qualifications, these are very difficult industries to get into).

I am hoping so much that he might simply be noticed.

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Ming

Before I dropped Ming off at the train station, we went to our lawyer’s office to give him a gift of red wine and he invited us into his space to have a chat. It wasn’t like our previous chats because, now that the court case is miraculously over, we could just be ourselves without the professional distance. I wanted to hug the lawyer (as I had done just after the verdict last week), but I restrained myself.

Ming was told previously that one of the repercussions of the accident was that he might have to do community service by accompanying the police to schools in order to talk about his/our extended family’s experience. We were told last week that this was no longer a necessity but Ming still wants to do this and I support his decision.

In a way, this will be another unpaid acting role but, this time, it will be the real thing. Ming told me this afternoon that he continually replays that night in his head, with ‘what if?’ questions a never-ending dream sequence, and with the ‘why?’ question still hanging its head in shame.

The fact that all of the children who were injured are okay now, in a forever way, spurs Ming on to wanting to warn the rest of us to be more protective, corrective and vigilant – AND to dispel notions of easygoingness when it comes to children, because you just
never
know

30 Comments »

Macular degeneration

My mother doesn’t like to be written about because she is very private about her life, but, as I’m not so private, I would like, here, to salute her for the following:

When my mother was just in her 40s, Dad died of a heart attack. Not long after that, she developed breast cancer and had to have a mastectomy and chemotherapy. Then, about ten years ago, she began to lose her hearing. Two years ago, she fell and broke her hip and then, just as her hip had healed, she fell off her bicycle and broke her pelvis and wrist. And now she has macular degeneration and has to have six-weekly injections into her good eye to prevent it from getting worse (I took her today for one of these).

Despite all of these situations, my mother is an absolute inspiration to all of us and is as active now, at 79, as she was when Dad died and before. She will do anything for anyone and her volunteer work is beyond belief. She has more energy and compassion and generosity than I will ever have!

After the car accident, six months ago, my mother and my brothers’ families had to deal emotionally with repercussions, injuries and enormous anxiety and yet she always remained calm and in control and absolutely supportive of all of us. My own pain of regret had nowhere to go except to my mother and she helped me to figure out how to keep going. (AND she visited Anthony on all of the days I couldn’t when I had the rotten pompholyx condition).

This kind of mother is rare – the kind of mother you would dream of having – and it doesn’t seem fair that she would now be afflicted with macular degeneration, but she is. A fact. Life. Age. Hardship.

And what is Mother doing tonight? She is probably going to ignore the pain in her injected eye and work on the scrapbook she will give Ming when he turns 21 next January She has done this for each of the grandchildren preceding Ming and she has done it for my brothers and me when we each turned 50.

She is funny, clever, artistic and an absolute legend. And she is NOT old!
She is always NEW!

My/our mother xxx

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“I heard it on the news.”

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I was a little taken aback today, when I went up to our little local shop to get bread, and the proprietor said how glad she was about Ming. Seeing my confusion, she said, “I heard it on the news.” I told her about the reduced charges and she said she already knew which was quite disconcerting because we didn’t hear or see anything on the news. Then she said she was annoyed that they didn’t pronounce his name correctly and I laughed because how does anyone who isn’t Scottish get ‘Ming’ out of ‘Menzies’?

Ming and I are glad we didn’t see or hear his verdict on the news although I am now wondering who did. Oh well, I’m sure small town chitchat will only give it 24 hours and will mostly be positive and there is no point wondering. I suddenly realized I have been hiding away a bit by not frequenting the local shop, butcher, post office and petrol station as much as usual. It became a little nerve-wracking after the accident because I was never sure if people would ask me questions or avoid the subject (strangely similar to how people are not sure whether or not to ask about Anthony).

Stigma, embarrassment, acceptance, humility, guilt, miscommunication, shame, empathy, bewilderment, grief and joy; all of these factors and emotions and more have bundled themselves together, over so many months now, that it is difficult to know how to untangle what has become a maze that I have found the exit to. And yet, on opening the exit door, nothing looks particularly different; the grass is still brown from a long, hot summer, the mice and rabbits continue to plague us, the car needs washing, and I am very behind with the house-hold jobs.

I never experienced any sort of anticlimax as each of the children recovered from their injuries; it was just pure joy. And yet now that the court case against Ming is over, the joy of Monday has been replaced with a sense of nothingness which is, I guess, the space of anticlimax that precedes exiting the maze.

Tomorrow, I will exit the maze, having spent one final day within its mystery. I didn’t want to stay there but I had to figure a few things out like how to cope with people’s concern or lack of, how to move on with the newfound grace, faith and compassion I am already experiencing and how to be more grateful for every single moment of every single day, and every single person – especially my brothers’ families and my mother.

Tomorrow, if someone else says, “I heard it on the news,” I will allow my soul to smile as I leave the maze.

Happy Easter.

27 Comments »

Easter Saturday, Parkinson’s disease and a picnic

Today, Ming and I picked up Anthony from the nursing home, took him out to my mother’s place, picked her up, then went down to the foreshore near her home for a picnic. It was a perfect day, sunny, but with a breeze, so we grabbed some takeaway (sushi and chicken rolls) and managed to find a gazebo right near the water. Now that Ming’s back has half healed from his second spinal surgery, he insisted on doing all of the maneuvering of Ants in and out of the car and the walker/wheelchair we recently bought, and, except for when we picked Ants up, he was pretty mobile – bonus!

After our main food, my mother and I went to the nearby shop and bought ice-creams for dessert, two banana paddlepops for Ming and me, a magnum for her and an ice-cream sandwich for Ants (he loves these). We were surrounded by seagulls of course and Ming, like a little boy, loved chasing them away.

Then we went for a long drive around the estuary until we got to a semi-hidden beach where Ants said he wanted to have a swim. Having never swum in his life, this was a funny request, so we simply drove back slowly, dropped my mother off at her house, then headed back to the nursing home.

On the way back, Anthony became even quieter than usual, knowing, I guess, that the outing was nearly over, so I turned the car radio up and the three of us bopped a bit, with Anthony tapping his leg and Ming complaining that the radio station was too mainstream and that Ants and I had no taste – brat!

Once we had delivered Ants back to the nursing home room, and got him comfy in his armchair, he was showing signs of fatigue, confusion and the kind of misery that sometimes hits him when we depart. He loves the way Ming and I banter, so when we leave him, despite turning the television on for him, I can see how the silence of our absence hits him. I can see it in his face when this happens because he raises his chin a bit, sort of defiantly, and gives us a glare that is a mixture of love and grit.

He knew that Ming and I were going to a barbecue tonight at a friend’s place and that it would be just as impossible to take him to this as it would be to have a swim in that beautiful ocean. Usually I don’t tell him about these social occasions, so that he doesn’t feel left out, but this time I had to in order to explain why we had to go.

If it weren’t for the various photos I’ve taken over the last few years, I probably wouldn’t see as clearly how much Anthony has deteriorated. The photo I’ve included here is from a bit over two years ago when we were still able to do the restaurant thing easily. Back then, he was more upright, more mobile, more able to eat using a knife and fork, more vocal, more himself. Now, going to restaurants or to people’s houses for a sit-down meal is very hard because, with PD, he is only able to focus on one thing at a time (one voice, one activity, one sound), so the picnic idea was much easier.

When we picked Anthony up this morning, the nurse-in-charge said he had become aggressive again, punching out at the carers, and swearing (totally out of character), so I promised to have a word with him and I explained to her that it is part of the dementia engulfing the PD. She nodded in understanding but when I mentioned it to Ants he just muttered that he had to fight because he is often kidnapped.

I am sad, yes, but no longer ‘tragified’ because what would be the point? This is only going to get worse, not better, so the four of us just have to accept this and do the best we can (I include my mother in this foursome because she is a rock and very much a part of our own little family dynamic).

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51 Comments »

The maternal conundrum

Mothers

Sometimes we want them to get lost, stop interfering and giving advice, and to stop implying what we should do/be.
Other times, we limp, bruised and bloodied, into their laps, for the kind of hugs that nobody else can give.

On my bulletin board I still keep a note that Ming wrote some months ago – “Stop mothering me!” At the time, he was referring to my overbearing attitude to his diet, so I stepped back from this, finally willing to let him fend for himself.

But. tonight, it kind of went the other way because Ming was asking me why I had taken so long to be okay again, since the car accident. My response was sarcastic: “Not sure, Ming – might have something to do with the fact that five kids were injured?”

Ming: But, Mum, they are all okay now and I always knew they would be!

Me: Well I didn’t know for sure, so I was terribly worried.

Ming: So, Mum, please can you stop worrying now? They are all good!

Me: Okay. I am still reeling from the court case result and can’t quite believe it, Ming.

Ming: Just accept it, Mum – it’s over now. Stop (s)mothering me!

56 Comments »

Dancing

The following poem was written by my mother, Meg, before any of us knew the outcome of Ming’s court hearing on Monday. I thought she’d written it for Ming and that he was the gymnast, then I thought it might be for me because my hope was faltering; then I thought it might be for Anthony whose mobility is deteriorating; then I thought it might be for the various family members who have been affected by the car accident; then I thought it might be for all of us – everyone….

I now think Meg’s poem was all of those things, but it was mainly for our big, loud, dancing Ming!

Focus. Meg. April 14, 2014

A gymnast
On the balance board
Looks steadfastly
Towards that spot
Far in the distance
And his body
Perfectly in tune
Glides smoothly forward
Step by step
Unfaltering.

The tiniest distraction
Left or right
Behind ahead
Above beneath
He falls

Resolves next time he mounts the board
To fix his eyes
On One who beckons.

The board seems now so wide and safe
His toes spread out
His balance now regained
Secure.
A joyful happy jig.
The tightrope turned into a dance floor
Music
Laughter
Joy.

Thank you, Mother.

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PS. I think I need to get a new photo of Ming dancing because I am quite sure I have posted this one before; I also need to throw those obscene green shorts (that I bought Anthony for a joke over 20 years ago) in the trash. Why Ming insists on wearing them constantly is beyond my comprehension!

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