Summer 2012 with Uncle John

Summer 2012 with Uncle John

Whenever Uncle John returned to Brisbane after staying with us, for some long while afterwards the house always seemed very quiet and empty, and after he went back to Australia in 2011, even Mum was moping around for a bit, so she obviously missed him more than she would admit to.

2011, of course, was the year that saw a huge change in Mum's mobility; she broke her ankle on November 4, and ended up in hospital for four and a half months, which neatly covered Christmas and New Year, making it a very different celebration for us all.

I've written in other posts, that when it was decided she would come to live with us permanently, she came home on 28 March 2012 - my 66th birthday.

We all harboured a hope that one day she would eventually recover more mobility, and be able to walk at least a few steps. In the end, we accepted that, because she was confident to weight bear only momentarily - and by doing what we called "the twiddle," transfer from bed to chair to wheelchair - we had to be satisfied with that. At least, once she was ensconced in the wheelchair, we could take her out into the garden, or use wheelchair accessible taxis for check-up visits to hospital or - more importantly, of course - trips to The Ritz! - so she was not completely housebound.

With a month or two, we had settled down into a routine. We had carers coming in four times a day, who were soon accustomed to Mum and her foibles, and Mum got used to be being helped with her personal care.

At that time, Mum was much more aware of what was happening; she could feed herself and drink her tea properly, so mealtimes were a lot quicker.

Naturally, I kept Uncle John right up to date with Mum's progress, and I was thrilled when he said he would come back again in the summer, and stay with us for a month or three. We all looked forward with great anticipation to meeting him at Heathrow.

It was so good to have Uncle John back in the fold with us - as usual, he slotted straight into the family routine, and was such good company. It was a pleasure to have him back.

He also fitted in with the times the carers came to attend to Mum, and waited patiently until it was his turn to use the bathroom.

One of my most abiding (and endearing!) memories of his stay, was the way he was not averse to helping with Mum, in between the carers' calls. At that stage, Mum knew when she wanted to go to the loo, and would ask to be taken on the glidabout commode. Uncle John was there, helping her to get seated on the glider, and cheerfully wheeling her into the bathroom; and the great thing was, Mum did not complain about him helping her.

Uncle John was still a whizz at shopping in Tesco, pushing the trolley up and down the aisles even more quickly than I could keep up with him! As always, he was extremely good company.

We had our little day trips out; again, I booked a table for Tea at the Ritz, which Mum really looked forward to, and everything went well on the day.

We also decided to have another trip down memory lane - this time to the Isle of Wight, where my  Uncle Austin, Mum and Uncle John, had spent part of their childhood.

I got in touch with the Isle of Wight County Press, and they were very interested in Uncle John's imminent return to St Helens. They ran a piece about him - "John to see changes after 75 years away" - and how he and his family had lived at Yarborough Cottages, until they moved to London. He went to the Church School in St Helen's, learned to play golf, and his sister, my Mum, liked having a railway line near the bottom of their garden. She also remembered a beautiful rose that stood in the garden, and how it went up and over the top of their front door.

It was brilliant to have this advance information in the paper; Uncle John said he hoped the story about his forthcoming return would jog people's memories, and if there were any old friends who remembered him, he would love to hear from them.

I made reservations for the hotel and the ferry, and at the end of July, Wendy drove us to Portsmouth for the crossing to the island.

We had a marvellous stay. People were so kind and helpful; and the reporter from the County Press did a follow-up interview with Uncle John. We went back to St Helens; Yarborough Cottages are still there, and the family who live in Uncle John's old house invited us in, and showed us around. Uncle John said, "The cottages are neat, but so small! I wonder how two adults and three children could fit inside!" But of course they did, and they all had a very happy childhood.

To our delight, the rose bush outside the front door was still there, and from what we could ascertain, it was the same one Uncle John and my Mum remember so well. A little more straggly, perhaps, than when it was a young plant, but still blooming, and still fragrant.

Uncle John, Wendy and me outside Yarborough Cottages

We visited the former St Helen's Railway Station, had a ride on the Isle of Wight Steam Railway, and went round Quarr Abbey; such great memories came flooding back, and it was good for Wendy and me to see, first-hand, what Uncle John and my Mum mean, when they talk about things that happened when they were children.

Although our trip was a flying visit, we made some lovely friends, and Uncle John said how much he hoped he would be able to come back for a longer visit.

As a post script, shortly after we got back home, there was a letter waiting for Uncle John, from an old school friend; he was a few months older than Uncle John, and about to celebrate his 90th birthday. He had read the report in the paper about our visit, and wanted to keep in touch. It was a shame we hadn't been able to see him, but we sent him a birthday card and it was so nice Uncle John and this gentleman were able to have a chat on the phone, and catch up on each other's lives from so long ago.

All too soon, Uncle John's stay with us came to an end, and we had to take him back to Heathrow. Mum was much quieter and more thoughtful this time, and said how much she would miss him, and how we all hoped he would be back again the following year.

Uncle John Moves To Jindalee

Uncle John Moves To Jindalee

Whilst Uncle John was on the palliative care ward at St Vincent's Hospital, we always knew the maximum time he could stay there was six weeks; he was transferred from Princess Alexandra Hospital to St Vincent's Hospital on 28 March, and we were painfully aware of the days flying by.

I rang Uncle John every other day and, over time, got to know all the nurses on their different shifts. The phone by his bed did not have a button to increase the volume, but everyone was so helpful, staying with him for a few minutes, to make sure he got the gist of what I was saying.

As I've written before, it is such a shame that my cousin does not communicate with us. Wendy has always kept the door open for contact - she sends cards and notes to him and his wife at appropriate times throughout the year, but never receives a response.. That is something we have to accept, but we were concerned that if Uncle John left St Vincent's Hospital, we would not be told where he was going.

At last, there came some really great news. The Palliative Care Nurse Manager e-mailed me to say that on 2 May, Uncle John would be transferred to the TriCare nursing home, in Jindalee, which is only about a 7 minutes' drive from his son's home.

We were so grateful for this information! and once we knew Uncle John was safely ensconced in his new abode, I was able to call him. He was pretty cheerful and more or less accepted he couldn't go back to his old unit in Marsden, but being in a nursing home was definitely a step up from lying in a hospital palliative care bed!

Since then, I have been able to call Uncle John regularly. He doesn't have a phone in his room, but the nurses have phones with a speaker button, which they take to him when I ring, and turn up the volume. I so appreciate them doing this, as I know how busy they are, and try never to outstay my welcome, speaking to Uncle John for only a couple of minutes. This is long enough to tell him we're all thinking of him, and wishing him well!

Not long after his transfer to Jindalee, I had one very disturbing conversation with Uncle John, when he was clearly very upset. Uncle John told me, his son had been to visit him; my cousin had said to his dad, "....you haven't got long to live!"

I tried to reassure Uncle John; I said, "That's ridiculous! No-one can say just how long any of us have got left to live! You're doing so well; if you hadn't been doing well, you would have stayed in St. Vincent's Hospital, and you wouldn't be in the nursing home now!"

"Yes... well", said Uncle John, reluctantly, "I suppose that's true..."

I stayed on the line a couple of minutes more, encouraging and cheering him, and promised to call him again in a day or so.

After that, I rang the Nursing Home straight back, and spoke to the lovely lady who had answered my call the first time round; I repeated what Uncle John had told me, and how very upset he was.

Her reaction was immediate: "That's terrible! I'll get someone to go to him right now, and give him some TLC!"

It worked brilliantly, and the next time I rang Uncle John, he was happy and much more like his old self. In future, the nurses will keep an eye on him, and make sure he isn't left feeling so despondent.

Knowing Wendy is flying out to see him again very soon, is also lifting his spirits. We have already checked there are clothes in his wardrobe; if he is fit enough and up for it, and the medical staff are happy about it, Wendy will take him out in the car, and drive him to some of the places they know so well. We even harbour a hope it may be possible for them to go to Forest Lake, and enjoy another lunch at Sizzlers! We shall see how things go; but in the meantime, Uncle John remains hopeful, positive and cheerful!

Taking Time To Smell The Roses

Taking Time To Smell The Roses

Back in the day when I was in full flow of theatre productions, cabaret performances and ballroom dancing (how on earth did I find the time to do all that - plus rehearsals - and still work at The Daily News?!) one of the monologues I loved performing was one of the Postscripts written by JB Priestley for the BBC.

It begins, "I don't think there has ever been a lovelier English spring than this one, now melting into full summer."  Living in South Africa meant I couldn't quite appreciate the nuances of the changing seasons in the UK, but the magic of his words transported me to another world, and I loved reciting it.

Once again, this year has proved if we didn't have the weather to talk about, perhaps we wouldn't have much conversation! but there are now more and more days when you can feel a warmth in the air, and you just have to stop and enjoy moments in the garden, and be grateful you can see, hear, touch, feel and smell things, like the perfume of roses on the breeze.

When we have had difficult days to get through, and worrying things to contend with, it's as if we are given a respite, when we can stop everything for a short while and go outside, literally and metaphorically to smell the roses.

We have a beautiful vermillion rose; a deep red rose, that produces flowers that are so perfect, they look as though they are made of silk; and a floribunda rose, "Blue for You," that keeps producing red-tinted buds that explode into a magnificent mauve.

A Red Admiral, sunning itself on one of Mum's sheets, drying on the line!

The wisteria this year was also magnificent, making a magical archway all along the side pathway of the house.

When Mum was still able to do the "twiddle" to get herself out of the chair and into the wheelchair, it was easy to take her out into the garden to enjoy the scenes and summer scents for a while, with the cats at her feet; it is more complicated now, because she has to be hoisted. Mum could indeed be hoisted into the wheelchair, and wheeled into the garden, but because we are not qualified to use the hoist, Mum would have to stay in the wheelchair until the carers' next call. That could work, but we would then worry that the carers might be delayed with an emergency at a previous call, so thus far, we have not risked it. As the summer progresses, I will try and organise an extra call, so that we can be sure of getting Mum back into the house before too long, and back in her chair for dinner.

On a day like today, you feel everything is possible! and I have been taking time to stop, step outside, and smell the roses.