There is truly joy to be found everywhere #joy #wellbeing #dementia #Mum #funny #creative @boneAndsilver
Me (in the kitchen): What are you doing Mum?
Mum (in the garden): I’m twilting
Me (wandering outside): What does that mean?
Mum: Well, it’s a new word- it means moving things around in different shapes and sizes- that’s what I’m doing with the washing now
Me: OK Mum, sounds good- I’d better write that down
Black swans are the local town mascot #Dawlish #blackswan #cygnet #dementia
I’m at the start of my 3rd week visiting Mum in England, and realized today what’s happening: she’s imprinting on me like ducklings or cygnets do. When I ask her if she’s ready for breakfast, she looks at me to ask if I’m having some? Same with a cuppa, having a shower, or going for a walk.
It wasn’t like that for the first week. Or perhaps I was too jetlagged/overwhelmed/finding my way to notice? Now we’ve settled into a routine though, as I’ve learnt the rhythm of her days and nights, including the multiple daily carer visits.
So it suddenly stood out to me this afternoon, as I left for a walk on my own, that she really was becoming my shadow.
This isn’t good. I return home to Australia in 10 days, and yes, I’m definitely counting down. What’s going to happen once I’ve gone? Who will repeat for the fifth time what we’re having to eat? Who will cook her such fine, healthy lunches, and supply long-favoured treats like crumpets or Crunchie chocolate bars?
She will cheep and fret like a fluffy yellow duckling on the cold river’s edge.
So much is being lost here. So much past, but the future too. I’m losing my Mum, and my son ‘18’ his Grandma. The whole family is losing another matriarch, with all those memories and connections like a shawl around our shoulders.
And on some deep level, beyond articulation, Mum knows this. That’s why she’s instinctively imprinting; seeking a familiar anchor in an increasingly confusing world. I honestly have no idea how she’s managed to get this far and still be at home alone. It’s very confronting. I obviously want to reassure her, smoothing the many wrinkles in her day as much as possible, yet does that really serve her? I’m a band-aid for 3 weeks, not a solution.
Plus I have a sinking feeling that she’s going to be even more lost after I’ve gone home.
For now though, we’re taking our pleasures where we can. Last night we walked down to the local theatre company, and watched a film they were screening- she was transfixed. The previous Saturday, we dressed up (including her many rings), and went to the closing night of the same company’s play- we sat in the front row, and laughed out loud at the clever antics onstage. We’ve eaten more naughty snacks than the local bakery can provide, and I’ve cooked yummy vegetarian meals to counteract the frozen food she usually lives on.
I’ve felt the comfort for both of us at being her Mama duck, but it’s scaring me as well now.
On getting aboard a train to Exeter for the first time in a year-
Mum: “Ooh, it’s like being on a train isn’t it?”
Holiday cottage in Wales #Wales #family #wellbeing #over50
“Come and stay in the holiday cottage with us; take a break from your Mum,” says my Aunty over the phone.
I don’t need to be invited twice. Any excuse to hop on a train cross country- my favourite way to travel. My Aunt and her partner live in North Wales, but a family gathering is happening in South Wales, and it’s the perfect time to catch up with my cousin, her husband, and their 3 kids, as they celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary.
They’re staying near where Mum and her 3 siblings grew up, around Gowerton. I’ve never been there before: I’ll get to see the house they grew up in, the school they went to, and most importantly, the bays and beaches over which they gazed as they matured, following their dreams.
Favourite beach #Wales #Rhossili #family #wellbeing
But I’ll have to ignore the stab of guilt at not taking Mum with me. I know full well that she actually needs the stability of her routines in a familiar place, rather than the stress of travel and an unknown environment, plus that I need a tiny respite; I decide to lie.
“I’m going back to London for a couple of days Mum, to catch up with some friends from Australia…”; my voice peters out as I don’t want to deceive her any further. I tell her 3 daily carers where I’m really going, and why; they all agree it’s for the best not to tell her. I ring our local cousin and tell her too, so she knows where to get hold of me if anything urgent happens.
Early morning beach walk #healthy #selfie #Wales #familyreunion @boneAndsilver
Then I realize I have to unwire my ‘guilt button’, so I can commit to the adventure and reunion.
It was such a fantastic break. Remember my 4-day hike in Tasmania, and all those stunning photos? Wales was similar, but without the 15kg backpack (or snakes and wombat).
The highlight was walking over to Worm’s Head, which involves crossing a causeway at low tide; you literally have to time your walk, as the ocean rushes back in and can trap you on the island. My 77-yr old Aunty with the replaced knee was up for it, so 3 generations of us got up at 5.30am to match the tides and tackle the wet rocks.
The early mist hid the stunning scenery at first, but by the time we began our crossing, the sun was coming out.
It was so strange to be walking on the bottom of the sea, and the views back to the mainland were stunning.
We didn’t have enough time to get all the way to the ‘head’ of the ‘worm’, but next time I will. Some folk call it the eye of the dragon, and perhaps you’d agree?
Posting it twice cos it’s so good #Wales #WormsHead #walking
And when we headed back to the mainland, the sun was shining over the beach, which felt fortuitous.
The best surfing beach in Wales #Wales #bestbeach #sunshine #wellbeing
We laughed, gossiped, remembered family histories, and filled in gaps about our lives as they’re unfolding, so far from each other. Mum not being there was like the elephant in the room though, and we all felt very sad about it. Finally my cousin, Mum’s younger sister, and I sat quietly together in the living room, and shut the door on the others.
What are we going to do, and when are we going to do it?
Revisiting old haunts brings nostalgia #England #seaside #nostalgia #over50 @boneAndsilver
Mum and our cousin met me unexpectedly at the train station, so there were hugs all round, then straight home for a cuppa. I can tell she’s very happy to see me of course, but Mum also asks several times where we’re going, as though she hasn’t just heard the answer a minute ago.
Which is the world she lives in now. Dementia often takes away short-term memory first, and that was one of the initial symptoms we began to notice a few years ago.
‘Shall we have a treat with our tea? How about a crumpet?’
Nostalgia coats my taste buds like raspberry jam and warm runny butter. I’m drawn backwards through the years, remembering blustery walks on the beach with various dogs, coming home to food treats like hot crumpets.
Crackers with sharp vintage cheddar. Fruit & nut chocolate. Crispy fish and chips every Friday. Rhubarb and apple crumble with clotted cream… these are a few of my favourite things.
But if I want them, I’ll have to buy them and/or make them. Because Mum’s not cooking or really shopping any more; she has 3 carers a day to help her with those tasks. Or rather, to do them for her, because it’s quicker and easier.
‘Going home to Mum’s’ no longer means what it did. Sure, I can re-visit old haunts, and search for schoolyard friends in the grey-haired people we pass on the narrow streets, but I’m certainly the elder now in our dynamic. She still calls me by my shortened childhood name (which I’ve always disliked, but it’s time to let that go huh G?), and made a fuss about tucking me in to my makeshift bed the first night.
But that’s about it.
And you know what? I accept that. I honour where she’s at, and where I need to move within myself to meet her. I spent YEARS rebelling, avoiding, resisting, criticizing, ignoring, and blaming; I admit it.
What a terrible challenge I was to Mum, ceaselessly. Ask anyone in our family, and they’ll confirm we had a difficult relationship; I was determinedly the ‘black sheep daughter’. Quite frankly, Australia was only just far enough away for me.
Yet now there’s a beautiful symmetry and peace in just quietly pottering round with Mum, letting her decide which way she wants to walk home, and offering regular cups of tea.
Plus crumpets.
Seagulls squawk as I type this, and my early morning walk led up high-hedged lanes where I used to keep my first fat pony. I’m surrounded by memories like layers of silk at the edge of my vision; if I look too closely, they waft away.
Mum is similar; there’s a soft slipperiness to her now that perhaps offers her some relief from the fretting circles her anxious mind carved for so long? What a blessing to let go of memories that caused such distress.
And I reckon that applies to both of us.
In gratitude for learning how to let go when I have to, G xO
I pulled this before I left home in Australia #goodadvice #angelcards #coincidence #dementia #wellbeing @boneAndsilver
I’m on the train down to the quaint English seaside town where I grew up, watching the countryside flash by. Neatly hedged fields, thick-walled farmhouses, and glimpses of bigger human settlements marked by the identical carparks and superstores.
I’m trying to work out how I feel. It’s a mixture of jetlagged tiredness, slight anxiety, a little excitement, and my hopeful practice of being an open, blank slate.
It suddenly occurred to me that Mum hasn’t seen me with blonde hair. Well, not since the ill-fated ‘Highlights Experiment of 1985’ anyway; maybe I should pop my blue cap on? This is a new experience: wondering how Mum is going to greet me. For as long as I can remember of course, she has hugged me hello with a squeal of excitement, and teary eyes, especially once I moved to Australia in 1987, and there were long gaps between my flights home.
At my financially poorest, and most rebellious, I admit I didn’t see her for 8 years; I would HATE it if ‘18’ did that to me! It’s all different now though, with Skype and FaceTime etc, so global connections are much easier to maintain…
But will she recognize me in person?
Without question, this is the most dreaded experience of anyone connected to a Dementia sufferer, and I am no exception. I don’t think it’s going to happen quite yet- not this trip anyway- but the newly-blonde hair may throw her a bit.
So I’m gazing at my trepidatious reflection in the train window, wondering what awaits me for the next 3 weeks, and trying to settle all the conflicting emotions in somewhere other than the pit of my belly.
Breathe in, breathe out. Ribcage expands, ribcage softens. The train rattles down the tracks, as I get closer to Mum; locking my front door in Australia on Monday seems like a long time ago, and I seek a soft, familiar, welcoming landing.
But I’m not sure I’m going to get it.
In gratitude for the hard-learned gift of patience, and deep belly breathing, G xO
Catching the bus to the Mall July 2017 (the hats were unplanned) #motheranddaughter #ageing #dementia #over50
By the time this publishes, I will be en route to the UK. For 3 weeks, I am going to stay with my 82-yr old Mum, who is now suffering quite badly from her dementia. I’ve written about her before in ‘Two rocks lie heavy in my heart; the first is Mum’ . She was having two visits a day from social service carers; it went up to 3 or 4, and now it’s at the maximum of 5 visits.
What an incredible gift is a welfare system hey?
Some hard decisions need to be made, by family members who see her way more often than I, but it’s me who has the Power of Attorney over her financial affairs and wellbeing.
Mum knows I’m coming; she just can’t remember when. Usually I pop in for a few days, then head to France (Australia is a bloody long way from Europe after all), but this time I’m focusing solely on her. Having said that, I’m going to walk every day along the beach, join the gym for some Pilates classes/stress relief, and seek out some 5Rhythms dance classes too I hope- self care is going to be essential.
Some of the upcoming posts will no doubt be a bit sad, but I’m also going to do my best to try and find some humour… if possible.
Watch this space *inserts Hopeful Prayer Hands emojii
In gratitude for free health care and plane tickets with vegetarian meal options, G xO
This morning was hard. Exhale. The mundane and the tragic collided. My whole morning sprawled out before me in a complicated matrix that would get me to the train station. 858 more words
Love travel, and love being home again #gratitude #over50 #travel #homebody #australia @boneAndsilver
Hi! It’s been ages 10 days since I last wrote a post, I’m sorry. Life just got busy, y’know. What with ’18’s big birthday, and 3 gigs on 3 weekends with my fabulous boss/dearest friend, I’ve just not had time to be near my computer. Which is actually very nice, to be honest.
Except I miss y’all!
But I had to pack my stilts for 2 different festivals on 2 consecutive weekends, including my favourite music festival of the year, at which I saw no less than 15 bands. We then flew to Adelaide for a Winter Festival down by the river, at which I drifted silently like a Cloud, AND met up with fellow WordPress blogger Eve over at Unleashing the Couger – photo credit & fancy filter to Eve.
To top off the distractions, yesterday was MY birthday- a proud and delightful 52.
FIFTY TWO. HOW THA HELL did that happen? I can’t believe it; when my Mum was this age, I emigrated to Australia by myself, as a feisty, stubborn, yet-also-anxious 20-yr old, and didn’t see her for years… no Skype or FaceTime back then.
I had the loveliest day here: woke up early, lay in bed musing (my fav pastime), then when ’18’ finally woke up we went to an outdoor spa together, so sat chatting in the jacuzzis and steam rooms surrounded by bamboo and fairy lights- so pretty. A healthy lunch at home was then followed by a sunset beach walk from The Comet Woman (still flaming by, and thrilling/scaring/calming me in equal amounts).
Now I need to do some catching up on all your blogs, and get ready for my little house party this weekend: a cosy ‘Beats Bubbles and Bakes’ gathering on Saturday afternoon, with champagne, homemade cakes, pumpkin soup, and the grooviest funky dance mixes from two DJ friends… I wish I could invite you all, but then it would just get too big!
To sum up the start of this new year of my life, I wrote this on my personal FB page; sharing it here seems like a good idea.
52 hey? I have no idea what 52 is meant to look like, so I am just gonna dance, write, love, learn, explore, share, fuck up, mourn, re-centre, feast, pray, pleasure, create, and politically agitate my way through this coming year… I am filled up with Love and Gratitude for all my beloveds, who are my chosen Family, and for my funky and eccentric blood relatives, who span the globe from Madagascar to New York, Norway, Sydney and the U.K. Thank you all for your connections and support in my ongoing adventure of ageing as disgracefully and present as I can, while my darling son watches on with amusement, occasional annoyance, and a begrudging admiration which still thrills me. Let’s all keep loving each other, our unique planet, and most importantly those less fortunate than ourselves, because I am ONE LUCKY BITCH.
In gratitude for birthdays and swear words, G xO
Best birthday gift for my son #Australia #vintage #silverrings #love #familyheritage @boneAndsilver
Remember how I worked out what to give him in a flash of early morning inspiration, and then he guessed it HERE?
Well of course I went ahead anyway, despite my disappointment delight at his intuition.
It took 2 weeks to organise, during which time his actual birthday came and went, but I could rest in the quiet glory of knowing I’d nailed the present. Family and friends got together on 2 separate occasions to wish him well, and I could see he was very pleased at all the love and attention he so rightly received, bless him.
As we entered the 2nd week, a little nagging began- ‘How long till my ring is here Mum?’ – ‘I can’t wait for my ring, I wish it would hurry up’ etc (spread out over 5 or 6 texts sent at random hours).
Finally I cycled down to the jewellers to collect it, and even she was excited at how well it had turned out, and what an excellent idea it was.
But would it fit? She urged me to bring him in if it needed adjusting, while I determinedly prayed that would not need to happen, as it is open underneath, so there is a certain amount of flexibility in its sizing…
I texted him that it was in the house.
‘I’ll be round in an hour.’
He bounced in the door while I was on the phone- ‘where is it, where is it?’
‘Wait a minute; I am not just giving you the ring. I want there to be ritual with it; it’s important…’
‘Mum, I don’t need a ceremony.’
‘No, but I do.’
Stopping a teenager in full flight when they want something almost within reach is not easy; like holding back a bolting horse.
But I’m as stubborn as he.
I finished what I was doing, then lit 2 candles- one each for Mum (living in England) and Dad (who passed away 10 years ago), and wafted an incense to clear my room. I took a deep breath, reminding myself what I want to say, and why.
‘OK, I’m ready; come in now, and close the door behind you.’
As soon as he enters, I can feel the gravitas or reverence settle on him; I just had to trust that it would. I tell him to sit on the bed, then sit opposite him with the ring in a tiny bag.
I nod to the two candles:
‘I’ve lit them for your Grandma J and Grandpa L, who can’t be here, but are both very proud of the young man you’re turning into. L gave this ring to J on their honeymoon in Mexico, and then she passed it on to me years ago. May the best 3 qualities of each of them come through this ring to you: Dad’s telling of a good story, and his love of good food and travel; Mum’s love of books, her kindness to animals, and her sensitivity. May you pick the best 3 qualities of me that you wish to embody- you can decide what they are for you- and may they too come through the ring. The rest of it is up to you; you are from us, yet uniquely yourself, with your own gifts to offer the world; may this ring journey with you on your amazing path, now that you are officially a young man.’
There was a long silence, as he slipped the ring out of the bag and onto his finger.
It fitted perfectly, and we smiled at each other.
‘Thanks Mum, it’s awesome. And I guess I did need the ceremony after all. Thank you; I get it now.’
Happy 18th at last, my gorgeous son ❤
In gratitude for ritual, G xO
bone&silver 