How Kind The Carers Are

How Kind The Carers Are

We have such a close-knit band of carers, and they all know Mum really well. When she talks about "Johnny-boy" they know that is her pet name for her "baby" brother; Mum might be 100, and Uncle John might be 96 1/2, but he will always be her baby brother, and "Johnny-boy" to her

Since we discovered how ill Uncle John is, and how badly his son is dealing with his affairs, it has been a source of sadness and worry to us all, trying to find out what is happening.

After Wendy got home in June, we have not been allowed to speak to Uncle John without his son giving his permission. Because of the 9 (and now 10) hour time difference, it could be tricky to get a moment when both Mum and Uncle John are awake at the same time; in the past, and when Uncle John was well and in his own home, I would normally ring him whilst Mum was having her breakfast, and Uncle John having his supper; that worked pretty well. Now that Uncle John is ill, and sleeping more, trying to snatch a moment when they are both able to talk to each other is made impossible by attempting to obtain Johnny's permission for Uncle John to take the call. I have tried everything I can think of to try to re-establish our right to speak to Uncle John, but the staff at the Nursing Home have to follow the orders given in a letter from Uncle John's son, and which is placed on Uncle John's file, which is that no-one can speak or see Uncle John without Johnny's say-so. So far, the only person who had the right to visit Uncle John in the Nursing Home, was a Social Worker from ADA Australia; she went three times, but on two occasions, Uncle John was asleep, and on one visit when she was there, and he was awake, he was obviously not confident enough to open up to someone who was a virtual stranger. The Social Worker reported they could do no more.

I got in touch with the Police, and two policemen had to ask permission to visit; on this occasion, Johnny said Yes, so they were able to talk to Uncle John, but only spoke to him on matters of how he felt about the Nursing Home.

The Nursing Home is lovely, and the staff are caring, but no-one thought to ask the $64,000 question: "Why is Uncle John's son behaving like this, and preventing contact from us, Uncle John's loving family in England?"  On 22 July, I filed a complaint to the Office of the Public Guardian, about the way Johnny was abusing his Power of Attorney; I was told the investigation is continuing, but over four months have now passed, with no definite answers. If it goes on much longer, it won't matter, because Uncle John could die. I also had a lot of sympathetic understanding from the British Vice Consul in Brisbane, and she would have been very happy to visit Uncle John, and arrange volunteers to see him as well, and take him out and about for little treats; however, when she asked permission to see Uncle John, again, his son refused.

I got in touch with Mum's MP here in the UK, and he also understood the problem, and said he would write at once to the Nursing Home. However, because we are in the middle of a general election, all the MPs are in Purdah, and he can do no more for us at the moment, and he asked the Nursing Home to respond to me directly. It comes as no surprise that, to date, we have not received any communication from the Nursing Home in Jindalee!

I have written to the Prime Minister of Australia, with a plea for him to help us move things along. I simply cannot understand why this situation is being allowed to continue, and why no-one challenges Johnny about his behaviour. I have received a reply, saying my request for help has been passed on to the State Government in Queensland; I am now just praying someone there will take this up and deal with it.

Listing all these things we have done to try and keep in contact with Uncle John, has brought me to one thing Mum kept asking about: When can she speak to her brother again?  It had also not escaped her notice that for the first time, and for this most significant birthday, she had not received a card from Uncle John.

This is where the kindness of Mum's carers came in.

One of the young ladies, Sydney, asked for some photos of Mum and the family, and she arranged for a very special birthday card to be produced with pictures from Mum's past. Taking pride of place, in the middle of the card, was a beautiful photograph of Uncle John and Mum, taken at one of our earlier trips to The Ritz, when he stayed with us one summer.

It was such a kind and thoughtful thing to do; in spite of all the problems we have, it meant Mum did have a contact of sorts with Uncle John, with a picture of the two of them displayed on a beautiful card. She was so happy to have it.

So Mum had a card with her baby brother on it,
after all!

Home Sweet Home -
truly living up to their name!

Mum's Grand Birthday Weekend

Mum's Grand Birthday Weekend

We got there!

Mum has had such a wonderful birthday weekend; apart from Tea at the Ritz on the Saturday, 26 October, we had people round on the Sunday, and more friends and neighbours visited on her actual birthday, Monday 28th October. Mum has enjoyed every minute, as have we all.

Whilst we were enjoying Tea at the Ritz, and after we had all sung Happy Birthday, the waiter brought her large birthday cake to the table, and I stood up and read Mum the poem I had written especially for her. As I finished, all the other guests in the Palm Court also rose to give Mum a spontaneous round of applause.

Mum was thrilled to bits; with her birthday card from the Queen on the table, Mum said she felt like a queen herself, and we were certainly treated right royally.

This is the poem I read for Mum:

BIRTHDAY POEM

  

It’s not every day we celebrate

A great centenary year

And now that you’re one hundred

It’s time to raise a cheer

For so many things that you have done

You’ve travelled far and wide

To Africa in all its ways

With Grandma by your side.

You’ve worked in jobs demanding much

But the pinnacle of your career

Was to land a top post in Treasury

A male-dominated sphere!

There have been seismic changes

But you’ve coped with every one

And risen up to do your best

And come out well and strong. 

We’re a family small, but large on love

You’re our universal glue,

Helping and encouraging us

To stay steadfast and true.

So we can celebrate with love

And congratulatory cheer

This special gathering at the Ritz

Now that your birthday’s here.

Alexandra Wilde

Birthday Girl Mum!

A creamy, dreamy birthday cake

A memorable day

Requesting A Birthday Card From The Queen

Requesting A Birthday Card From The Queen

I think most people who know me, will be aware I much prefer to write letters, rather than use e-mail. It's not so much that I am a technophobe, I just prefer that personal "touch" - literally handling a sheet of paper or a card, writing the letter or message, addressing the envelope, and then posting it to the recipient. I once wrote a poem about this:

A Valentine Verse

We may all be ultra-modern

With mobiles, voice and text;

But with all of these devices,

We can be sorely vexed.

We need a touch of mystery

And of one thing I am sure:

Nothing beats the gentle plop

Of post, landing on the floor.

I'm waiting for that special card,

Picked with love and care,

From that one darling other,

Whose life I want to share.

So, to the Royal Mail, this plea

Is made with all my heart:

On St. Valentine's, can you please

Play your major part?

It might be called "snail mail" by some

But for romance, it's best:

You cannot tuck an e-mail

Up close against your chest!

but I have to confess that, as long as everything works properly, e-mail is quick! If I have someone to guide me, and reassure me I am doing everything correctly, I'm happy to have a go with ordering things on-line.

So it was, I decided to apply to the Anniversaries Office on-line, and request a birthday card for Mum, from Her Majesty: and it really was simple. There was also a phone number to call if I wanted a helping hand, but I didn't need to use it, and everything went through very smoothly.

There was also an option to request the card up to arrive up to five days before the big day - this is in case a party has been arranged - so I asked for it to be delivered on 25 October, so that we would have it in good time, and take it with us to The Ritz.

There followed reassuring e-mails from the Anniversaries Office, confirming everything was in hand. I told Mum that we had heard from Buckingham Palace, and she should soon be receiving a birthday card from the Queen; Mum was thrilled to bits!

The days soon passed, until on Friday, 25 October, our favourite Postman rang the doorbell, and stood there ready to hand us Mum's Royal birthday card, by Special Delivery, guaranteed by 1 p.m. He had a huge smile on his face - all the postmen and ladies recognise these missives from the Palace - and said, "I think someone has a big birthday coming up!"

The card was inside in a royal blue envelope, with EIIR on it, and "To be Delivered on 25/10" written on the top: a truly Royal Mail item!

A week or two earlier, we had also received a couple of phone calls from the Department of Work and Pensions, to check Mum would indeed be celebrating her birthday on 28 October, and I did wonder if they were also making sure Mum was actually still with us...!  However, at the same time as our Postman delivered the card from the Queen, he had another envelope to give to Mum, also by Special Delivery, guaranteed by 1 p.m. It contained a "telegram" from Dr Therese Coffey MP, Secretary of State for Work and Pensions. That was an unexpected bonus, and Mum was pleased to receive it as well.

I remember telegrams from the past - I think one of the last telegrams I ever received was more than 50 years ago, so my memory might be a little hazy, but as I recall in the 70s, they were wonderful for getting information to people who were not on the phone. I was working in London, and one evening the telegram boy delivered one from my fiancé in Portsmouth. He had planned to come up to London at the weekend and take me out, but now he had to let me know that, at very short notice, he had to go on sea trials with a new Royal Navy vessel instead. I was disappointed, but the job took priority, and at least I knew what was happening. I remember telegrams being delivered in orangey-coloured envelopes, with the typed message printed on thin strips, which were then stuck onto a sheet of paper. After every sentence, the word "stop" was always included, and as you paid for every word, this tended to up the cost! I have since read somewhere that for military telegrams, the word "stop" was used to prevent any ambiguity in orders contained in the message.

With all the modern methods of communication, I think telegrams were phased out years ago, but it was a nostalgic reminder of the past for Mum to get a card officially designated as a telegram; it's good the "telegram" title is still retained for occasions like Mum's 100th birthday.

With Mum's birthday card from the Queen safely in our possession, we were all ready for the start of the best birthday weekend.

We All Had Rotten Colds - But Are Now Recovered!

We All Had Rotten Colds - But Are Now Recovered!

If anyone is wondering about the three week-plus gap between postings on this blog, it is because we all went down with the dreaded 'llergy.  Mum was very unwell with a bad cold that went on her chest; the Doctor visited her at home, and Mum was on Amoxycillin for 10 days, which helped a lot.  After Mum had finished the medicine, I was still worried that there was something lingering on her chest; the Doctor came for a second visit to see her, and prescribed another week's course of antibiotics, Clarithromycin, which we hoped would finally get things sorted out.

Because we had all been so close to Mum, within a very short time, I was feeling distinctly "salt and peppery," and sure enough, soon I was feeling as rough as Mum must have felt when she first went down with the bug. We had all been working in such close proximity with Mum, soon the other members of the family were in the same boat!

It meant tasks were taken up by those feeling least ill at any one moment; when all you want to do is get your head down for a while, things that normally take minutes seemed to take hours, but we managed somehow to get everything done.

I can laugh about it now, but it wasn't much fun at the time. I loathe wearing a mask, but I didn't want to risk re-infecting Mum, so made sure I covered up before doing anything for her.

Our Doctor came round once more, to check Mum was really well again; we even had a urine sample tested, and that came back clear.

I was very aware our trip into London for Tea at the Ritz was getting ever closer; it's fine timing for occasions like these, for everyone to be well and enjoy the celebration!

Thanks to the care and attention from Mum's Doctor, and all the Home Sweet Home ladies who care for her, we got through it and dared to look forward to Mum's big day!

Looking After Mum With A Bad Cold/Chest

Looking After Mum With a Bad Cold/Chest

On Thursday, 3 October, Mum woke up and was pretty well; there were a couple of times when I noticed her nose needed a wipe, but nothing out of the ordinary! and she was really chipper, washing her hands and brushing her teeth. Then she ate all her breakfast, drank all her tea, and was very chatty - it was a really good morning!

The ladies came to get Mum into bed for a nap - again, everything was as usual, and I was happy to go off for a couple of hours to a Poetry afternoon; I certainly wouldn't have gone if I had known how quickly Mum would go downhill.

When I got home, Mum was up, but clearly unwell. She was very croaky, and it was frightening how fast everything had progressed. The carers had come back at 4.30 and got her sitting in the chair, so at least she was up, and had eaten some dinner (after saying she didn't want anything, in the end, she didn't do too badly!) and had her tea, but she was very tired, so at the next call, at 7.30, Mum went back to bed. The ladies said they would be back for the usual bed call, and see how she was then; but at 10.00 p.m., Mum was still sound asleep - she didn't even rouse when they were turning her and checking her pad was good for the night, so we all hoped a good sleep would do the trick and she would be as right as rain in the morning.

Because I was so worried about Mum, I couldn't sleep, so I made good use of the time, ringing various authorities in Brisbane, including The Office of the Public Guardian, to see how their investigation, about why Uncle John's son is trying to isolate him, is progressing. I was assured it is continuing, but I stressed that with Uncle John's diagnosis of terminal bile duct and liver cancer, time is of the essence; if all the searches go on for too long, it will soon become academic, because Uncle John will no longer be with us! The lady I spoke to then suggested I write Uncle John a letter, and we shall see if that, at least, gets through to him.

I then rang the Nursing Home, and asked if I could have a quick talk with Uncle John, but the message was the same: There is a letter on file from Uncle John's son, and he will not allow anyone to contact his father without his express permission.

It is just terribly sad. Mum keeps asking why she can't speak to her brother, and I also suspect Uncle John still has no money of his own, to ask someone to buy a 100th birthday card for him to send to her.

I kept checking on Mum, making sure her temperature didn't go up - in spite of her being unwell, she wasn't running a fever, so eventually I gave in and went to bed myself.

Come Friday morning, the lady carers washed Mum, dressed her in nice clean clothes, and talked to her, but Mum was still out of it. She slept on, and we agreed to see how she was at lunch time.

I was very worried because the last thing we want is for the infection to go on her chest, so I rang the surgery early in the morning; the receptionists know Mum - and her age - and took down all the details about how quickly this illness had come on, and promised to get the Doctor to call us as soon as possible.

In fact, as soon as the morning surgery was over, the Doctor arrived. We had already had the lunch call, and Mum was still not up; she slept through the Doctor examining her, listening to her chest (not even the cold end of the stethoscope woke her up!) and took her blood pressure.  Her chest was very "crackly," and the Doctor said she would prescribe a ten days' course of antibiotics for Mum, with the proviso that if she was not improving by Sunday, we should call 999.

By then, Mum had been in bed for around 20 hours, and I knew that was far too long. It's all very well being tired, and I know sleep is a great healer, but you can have too much of a good thing, and we had to get Mum going, and try to clear her chest.

This is where Home Sweet Home Care also really proved their worth. We rang the Office, and they were able to rearrange calls so that we could have help to get Mum up as soon as possible. The carers arrived, and Mum started to wake up, so they gently hoisted her, and got her settled in the chair. We put lots of pillows around her, so she was really comfortable.

In sitting up, Mum was also able to cough and clear her chest; we washed her hands and Mum brushed her teeth; I combed and plaited her hair. It was terribly slow to begin with, but after a while, Mum started to buck up and co-operate; she looked better, and said she felt better.

By then, we had the antibiotics from the chemist; I made tea for Mum and put out a few corn flakes, and she took the first dose of Amoxycillin. She manages the suspension medicine just fine; it smells of bananas, and Mum said how delicious it was - better that than her looking suspiciously at the bottle and asking what it's all for!

I needed to make sure Mum's fluid intake was kept up, and I think over the course of the evening, she did well to drink about 2 1/2 cups of tea; I wasn't so worried about food, but she still fancied a little bit of cake before bedtime.

The carers were terrific; even if they were off duty, we had offers of help from everyone at Home Sweet Home, and we were so touched by their concern and care. They made such an effort to help us, managing call times so that we were able to fit in a second dose of medicine before Mum went back to bed at about 9.30 p.m.

I stayed up for a while, and checked on Mum a few times, before going to bed at about 12.30. Then I could not sleep! My mind was awhirl with worrying about Mum, so at 3.00 a.m., I got up and went to check on her.

She was very hot, with a temperature of about 101f. I got a wodge of kitchen towel, wetted it with lukewarm water, and sponged Mum's forehead and arms to cool her down. I put a single layer of a light blanket over her, and presently checked her temperature again; it was a relief to see it had gone down to 98f.

My sleepless night was at least rewarded creatively; I was inspired to write a poem for the National Poetry Competition (closing date 31 October, so I had better get on with it!) and I also wrote a letter to Uncle John, that can be sent off later in the morning.

When I finally got to bed, I realised I had the first hint that I have probably picked up Mum's bug. It's that faint "salt and pepper" feeling in the nose, accompanied by a touch of malaise that is not just related to tiredness. Oh well. Working in such close proximity with Mum, makes this an occupational hazard. In case it is not the same thing that Mum has, when I got up, it was a case of "Masks at Dawn!"  I loathe wearing a mask, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Requesting A Birthday Message From The Queen

Requesting A Birthday Message From The Queen

With Mum's big birthday coming up, I thought it was about time to start preparing for the moment when I submit a request to the Anniversaries Office at Buckingham Palace for a Birthday greeting from the Queen.

I knew that a one hundredth birthday was one of the anniversaries for which a message from the Queen could be requested, but I needed to know what documentation is required, and when I should apply on Mum's behalf.

I took the precaution of obtaining a fresh copy of Mum's birth certificate; I rang Liverpool Council and spoke to such a helpful lady, who gave me clear directions on navigating the way through the form on line. It proved interesting: having completed the form, and progressed to payment, suddenly the screen went on to a place about paying Council tax bills, and a whole lot of other, irrelevant (for me!) options! Luckily, I'd already been given a reference number which had been e-mailed to me, so at least I had that.

From my call earlier in the day, the lady I spoke to had told me the help line was open 24 hours a day, so, even though it was late at night, I rang the number to find out what had happened. Within a couple of rings, my call was answered; I was told the site had "gone down" and that I should try again in the morning. Who said working on-line was a good way to operate?!

Fast forward a few hours to mid-morning, and the next attempt to apply for Mum's birth certificate was successful. I opted for the fast track - if the order went in before 2.00 p.m. the certificate would be delivered the next day; I also paid the postage fee to cover the "Recorded, Signed For" service.

After lunch, a gentleman rang me from Liverpool; he was trawling through the archives, looking for the original entry of Mum's birth. As it happened - and because I already had a photocopy of a certificate I'd ordered back in 2011 - I actually had all the details to hand! He was mightily impressed as I read out all the information on this copy certificate: Mum was born at 76, Breck Road in Liverpool, on 28 October 1919, and her father had registered her birth on 8 November 1919. However, it turned out that the most important piece of information I had was a simple, 3 figure number on the left-hand side of the form; once I had read that out, within a couple of minutes it provided the "Eureka" moment and the gentleman said, "I've found it! The certificate will be with you in the morning."

And it was.

I then checked when I could apply to the Anniversaries Office with my request; by post, it has to be three weeks before the date, or you can apply on-line, 5 weeks in advance. Now I shall have to decide which way to do it. On the one hand, I don't want to send a postal application that could get lost or delayed in the post; so perhaps I shall have to try the on-line route. Watch this space!

I Am Re-Acquainted With Dementia UK

I Am Re-Acquainted With Dementia UK

It's funny how being so absorbed in looking after Mum - when most days resemble "Groundhog Day," with one period of 24 hours being pretty much like the last one - means you can forget how, in the early days when Mum came home, a particular organisation was especially helpful.

In the past few days, I've been in touch with the charity Dementia UK, and I've been reminded this is the organisation responsible for training, developing and supporting the dementia specialist Admiral Nurses. They were named after a man called Joseph Levy, who loved sailing, and was affectionately known as "Admiral Joe;" he also suffered from dementia, and when his family founded the charity in 1988, and appointed the first nurses in 1990, it was a natural decision to call them "Admiral Nurses."

A dear friend of mine called June died recently; she didn't live near us; because I couldn't leave Mum on her own, and after June moved to Hertfordshire, I wasn't able to visit her very often. It was sad news when her family wrote to tell me what had happened; I asked if they were having flowers, or family flowers only, and if they would prefer donation to a particular charity instead? My friend had suffered from dementia in the last years of her life, so her family thought a donation to an organisation helping people suffering from this sad illness would be really appropriate.

I got in touch with Dementia UK, and was hugely impressed by their response. They say that in any organisation, the person who answers the phone sets the tone, and this is so true: the lady who fielded my call was a great representative for the charity. She was helpful, knowledgeable, and when I said I would need a Gift Aid form to enclose with my cheque, she promised to send one in the post to me. The form and a personal, handwritten note to me, arrived the next morning.

Whilst we talked, she mentioned the Admiral Nurses, who not only help people with dementia, but assist their families as well; that is what jogged my memory, and took me back to 2012, when Mum first came home from hospital on 28 March.

In those early days, there was so much going on, so much to arrange and so many practical things to put in place, we didn't think about how having Mum at home might impact on everyone else around her; the main focus was to get her home, organise the four visits a day from carers, and take it from there.  Over the next few weeks - that stretched into months! - appointments from physiotherapists and psychiatrists were scheduled, and it was during one of these visits, that the psychiatrist told us about Admiral Nurses; he said, they would be very helpful.

As we had got into some sort of routine, by then it was becoming clear we should explore every avenue for assistance; even if it wasn't needed at that moment, there could well come a time when expert advice would be invaluable, and I got in touch with Admiral Nurses, and a lady came to see us.

Seven a half years on, I can't recall her name, but what I do remember is that she sat down with us, and patiently and calmly led us through a maze of options where we could get further help for Mum, if and when we needed it.

This was definitely to our great benefit. Mum understood none of this, of course; apart from realising the physical problems her broken ankle had left her with, she had not - and never has - accepted she also suffers from dementia, but having the help and advice of the Admiral Nurse, with such a wealth of knowledge of how the system worked, was really comforting. Not having had to explore these avenues before, I was completely ignorant of some of the things she told us about, and it was wonderful to feel someone was holding our hand at a difficult time.

As the years have passed, we've got wiser, of course; dealing with Mum has its ups and downs, and we have become more accomplished at navigating our way through various services but, having been reminded of how good Admiral Nurses are, they are now again firmly in the forefront of my mind. It's good to know they are still there, if we need them.