jmgoyder

wings and things

Ageism

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.

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Deformed

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Gutsy9 began to limp quite badly a couple of days ago, so yesterday Ming and I took him to the vet who confirmed that this is simply due to the deformity of his right leg. To my great relief this has nothing to do with me injuring one of his toes when he ran under my office chair way back.

I went back through my photos of him and I can see now that it was always deformed. He always stretched this leg out strangely. It’s okay though because he can now fly up to the height of a table and he is not in any pain.

G9 is now spending most of the day in the chookpen and all night in the big cage within the chookpen, but he also has an afternoon nap inside the house, either on my lap or nuzzling into my shoulder.

What a bird!

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Cycling in the countryside

Ah the joy of it! Cycling along country roads in the hurricane-like winds gentle autumn breeze, magpies dive-bombing your head birds twittering, the sun burning a hole in your back shining, farm trucks zooming violently past and carrying you along in their terrifying slipstreams gently idling past you, cows escaping yards and galloping towards you mooing quietly in the paddocks, children laughing at you smiling and waving – yes, pure joy!

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To blog or not to blog….

Blogging presents many of us with private-versus-public predicaments. Some bloggers remain anonymous, some don’t.

Over the last few weeks, I have become more aware of how blogging can be quite risky because, whether you are anonymous or not, if you write something from your heart and someone doesn’t agree, it’s free for all.

Often family or friends may try to admonish you, shut you up, give you advice, even make fun of you. These kinds of responses usually come from people who either don’t understand blogging, or just don’t understand you.

Today I was upset to find that one of my blog friends is feeling compelled to shut her blog down due to family pressure. Her blog’s raw honesty has helped so many of us to understand what grief looks like and I, for one, am not afraid of grief any more.

Self-censorship is every writer’s/blogger’s burden but censorship from others is an affront. If someone tells you to shut up, yell louder!

Mmmm … to blog or not to blog.

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Changeling!

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Yesterday afternoon I made a sudden decision to put Gutsy9 outside for the night, so Ming and I took him out to the chookpen, where he has been spending most of the afternoons lately, and put him in the big cage with food and water.

At dusk I snuck out to see how he was coping and sat at a distance, so he couldn’t see me. He was trotting back and forth in the cage and making his little howling sound, but he was also eating and drinking.

Eventually, when I could see that he would cope, I went into the pen, sat on the ground next to his cage and poked my finger through to stroke his head and he made a little trilling sound – happy. And even when I left him, he didn’t howl. But I came back into the house a bit teary.

Well, he was absolutely fine this morning! As soon as I let him out, he galloped after me into the house, straight to my office, flew up onto my lap and went straight to sleep while I did some writing.

He’s outside again tonight, but he isn’t howling – phew! He is becoming a peacock finally and the adult peas have almost stopped pecking him.

Don’t look back, my little changeling.

(Note: the pic. is nearly 4 months ago – G9 is a big boy now!)

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Anthony’s acceptance

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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!

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The shortlist

I have discovered something wonderful and I’m sure Oprah will be contacting me soon to make me rich and famous.

Okay, we are all familiar with the list thing – shopping lists, chore lists, goal lists etc. But you know what the trouble is with these lists? They are too long!

My extensive research, case studies and social experimentation over the last three days have produced extraordinary findings! Yes, indeed, I have found the cure for lethargy!

The two candidates for this study were a teenage son and his mother who were becoming more and more depressed and, yes, lethargic, due to the grief they were experiencing when the husband/father figure went into a nursing home.

Neither the wife or son had been able to adjust happily to the new home dynamic despite having a close relationship. This was compounded by the son having to have major surgery and the mother losing her job.

Even a year after the husband’s admission to the nursing home, the son’s surgery and the mother’s loss of employment, all three were still struggling to accept the new status quo. All three were grieving in different ways and this resulted in numerous arguments with emotions running high, particularly between the mother and son. Both became exhausted and fell into a state of lethargy.

Then, three days ago, a plan was devised. Each day, the mother and son would write down a 3-point shortlist for the following day. This was done in a special notebook, almost like a contract. There would be one task that required both (we called that ‘mutual’), one task for the son, and one task for the mother.

The beauty of the shortlist is that it is ‘doeable'(is that a word?)

Okay, tongue out of cheek now – this is working, so watch this space!

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A bird in the bush is worth two in the hand

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Have you ever had a tug of war with your child over a piece of plastic?
Have you ever stopped your child from munching the remnants of a Morteined cockroach?
Has your child ever bitten you hard on the finger in a fit of temper?
Has your child ever smashed your nose with his when you try to put him to bed?
Have you ever had a child who likes to bite his toenails?
Have you ever had a child who refuses the food you lovingly prepare?
Have you ever had a child that prefers rolling around in the dirt to anything else?

If so, you probably have a baby peacock on your hands!

Note: Gutsy9 is a typical adolescent, which is great because he is getting his independence.

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Galloping Gutsy9!

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Gutsy9 is now over 3 months old (photos are from beginning to now). When we go outside he literally gallops after me, despite his crooked leg. This morning I left him inside while I filled the outside ponds because he could easily drown at this age. When I turned the hose off I heard this unearthly howl from the house – quite guttural – and it was him! His voice must have broken because usually, when he can’t see me, he just cheeps forlornly.

What an interesting experience!

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Apostrophes

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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.

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