We Fly To Brisbane on Saturday
Well, it's been a difficult few days, to say the least.
As I was not Uncle John's official next of kin, the nursing staff really couldn't tell me any more than Uncle John was "stable." Even when I spoke to him on the phone, with all the problems he had with his deaf aid, it was very difficult for him to hear what I was saying.
I asked the nursing staff, if they could ask Uncle John for his permission to tell me what had happened to him, but I understand the reluctance of some people to do that. Even though Uncle John knew he was talking to me, of course they didn't know how close I am to him!
One day, though, I was lucky; a very helpful nurse was willing to pose the question:
"John, are you happy for us to tell Alex what has happened?"
And, loud and clear, came back Uncle John's reply: "Yes!"
At last I was able to get the full story; and, later on, I was able to speak to one of Uncle John's doctors.
The news was not good, and we are all so sad and shocked by it.
Uncle John has cancer of the bile duct; it is also in his liver. The drain he had had inserted was to make him more comfortable, and the Doctor told me the plan was to insert another stent internally. However, this would be purely palliative; the operation was scheduled for Wednesday.
He explained that sadly, because of the nature of this illness, it is not until clear symptoms present themselves that the diagnosis is made; this is the reason it is usually caught late.
I asked, "Does Uncle John know?"
"Yes, he knows."
We agreed I would ring again on Thursday at 10.00 a.m. Brisbane time, so that he could update me. The Doctor was so sympathetic, and he also realised it meant us ringing him at gone midnight UK time; I said, "Don't worry about that! I am an owl!"
I asked, "If it's possible, could you please give him a hug from us, and give Uncle John all our love?"
"I'm sure that can be managed," he said.
The next 48 hours found all of us really anxious; it's horrible being so far away, and wanting to ring back earlier and see how Uncle John was doing, but I kept my impatience in check.
In the meantime, Wendy started to investigate flights, accommodation in Brisbane, car hire, etc., which kept us occupied; we had a choice of leaving at the at the weekend, and getting to Brisbane on Monday, 25 March, or waiting until 28 March, which would mean arriving on the Saturday.
It was a relief to ring the hospital again on Wednesday at midnight; I was put through to another doctor, who was also looking after Uncle John.
He had got through the operation very well, and the plan now is that he will be discharged from Princess Alexandra at the weekend; there was a palliative care team meeting scheduled for later in the day, to see what the next step would be. I asked if Uncle John might be going to stay with his son, and the Doctor paused for a moment, and then said, soon Uncle John would need a lot of care. From that I understood he might go straight to some sort of home. I remember Aunt Marguerite was in Logan Hospital for some time, until she died in 2003.
I said Wendy and I would fly to Brisbane in the next day or so, and were trying to decide when to book the flights; and then I asked the $64,000 question:
"I know it's crystal-ball gazing... but do you have any idea of how much time Uncle John might have?"
"A month?" the Doctor said.
"So - it will be better to leave this Saturday, and arrive on Monday?"
"Yes."
"We're hiring a car. If he is well enough, might it be possible to take Uncle John out for little trips, say, to Forest Lake? Of course we'll check with his health team....?"
"Yes, that should be alright at the moment."
The message was clear; we had to get going as soon as possible. Wendy was listening to the conversation, and got started straight away on organising my visa, the flights, accommodation, car hire, parking... Wendy is so experienced, she achieved it all overnight and now, on Friday, we are all prepared and ready to go first thing tomorrow morning.
I have also been gently talking to Mum, introducing the seriousness of Uncle John's illness. Now came the time to tell her, because he is so ill, Wendy and I are going to see him for one last time.
Mum's immediate reaction was, "Can I come, too? I'd like to see him, too."
"Ma, Uncle John would love to see you - but it is such a long way, and you can't really walk now, so it would be very difficult to arrange it."
Somewhere in her head, Mum has still got the ability to understand that some things are impossible.
I said, "We'll take lots of photos out to him, and we'll talk on the phone; Wendy's got that wonderful television telephone, (Skype!) so you will be able to see him as well!" and that satisfied Mum.
It's been a bit of a drama organising care for Mum, but the support we've received over the past few days, has been quite overwhelming. Wendy and I can be away for a week or so, knowing all will be well at home.
Friday, 22 March 2019
Sunday, 17 March 2019
Uncle John Gives Us A Fright
Uncle John Gives Us A Fright
It's not practicable to go to Australia for the weekend, and I can't arrange cover for someone to look after Mum for longer than 48 hours, so it is Wendy who flies to Brisbane every year, to spend a couple of weeks with Uncle John, and introduce a little bit of normal family life into his day-to-day routine.
He has a "unit" in Marsden, where he is quite self-sufficient; he goes for lunch in the dining room, and otherwise caters for himself, but he does admit to being lonely. One of the problems is due to his deafness; although he has a deaf aid, when he is sitting at a table with five other chaps eating their meal and chatting away, his deaf aid is not the type that can filter out extraneous noise, which means Uncle John can't hear individual conversations. It does make for a lonelier life. If you can't hear what people are saying, apart from being isolating, folk can also get irritated with you, if they have to keep repeating what they have just said.
I remember my Grandma telling me that, when she became profoundly deaf, her father said, "Alice, your disability is very annoying!" - as if my Grandma could help it! The truth is, hearing people are not always patient.
Back to Uncle John: when Wendy is with him, they have great time together. Wendy hires a car (Wendy will never knowingly be without wheels!) and they drive to various places of interest, and they enjoy lovely lunches at the Forest Lake Hotel - steak usually - or else Wendy will cook for them both in the apartment she rents in Brisbane. It works very well.
In February, Wendy flew out as usual; Wendy thought that at first, Uncle John seemed a bit less energetic than he was last year, although of course we are all 12 months older! and soon she and Uncle John had picked up a nice routine, and after some days of good company and a few outings, Uncle John was back to his old self.
It was a sad time when Wendy had to leave; Uncle John knows Wendy doesn't get much leave, but she spends as much of her holidays with him as she can. He also knows she will be back again next year.
Once Wendy arrived home, I rang Uncle John, to let him know she had landed safely, but he did not pick up the phone. It rang and it rang and it rang, and although I kept trying over several days, still I got no answer. Wendy said it could be because the ear-piece of his deaf aid was uncomfortable, and he often takes his deaf aids out, so he wouldn't hear the phone ringing; this was a feasible explanation, but I was still a bit worried not to have made contact for so many days.
Four days ago, I woke up at 3.00 a.m. and had this niggling feeling that I really must investigate further; I was sure all was not well. After ringing Uncle John's number once more, and still getting no answer, I rang the Warden at Marsden, and asked if he knew if Uncle John was alright? It was an awful shock when he said, "No, John's in hospital. His neighbours have said they've heard the phone ringing a lot..." The Warden didn't know what was the matter with Uncle John, only that he had been taken to Logan Hospital.
Then followed some more investigative work; I rang Logan Hospital, and got through to someone in administration. After some while, the lady said, "Oh, John Woods has been discharged!"
"Can you please tell me where to?" I asked. "I know he isn't back home in Marsden, because I've spoken to the Warden, and he is certainly not in his Unit."
More checking and looking up ensued, and eventually the answer was found: "He's been transferred to Princess Alexandra Hospital."
Well, all sorts of things were going through my head! Uncle John is nearly 96, and at that age, I know anything can happen.
"Is that a specialist hospital?" I asked, almost dreading the worst.
"No," she said, "it's just bigger."
She gave me the telephone number, and my next call was to Princess Alexandra Hospital.
At least there, they could tell me pretty quickly which ward Uncle John was on, and they put me through. I spoke to a helpful nurse, who said he was back on the ward, but he was asleep. A bit later on, I rang again ask if I could talk to him. Another nurse took the phone to Uncle John, and I heard her ask him if he "...wanted to talk to Alex?" and I was quite shocked to hear his very drowsy reply, "No, not at the moment..."
Even in whatever sort of a state he was (and, at that point, I didn't know anything about what had happened to him). Uncle John was still very gentle and polite!
As I'm not his next of kin, I asked if it would be possible for someone to ask Uncle John - when he was properly awake - if he would give his permission for them to tell me what has happened, and give me news about his progress?
At least I was given a little information: he had had a drain inserted. I didn't know where the drain had been placed, and I remember back in 1938, his and Mum's brother Austin was so ill with pneumonia, he had had drains inserted in his lungs. Shortly after that, Austin had died, so this news really worried me.
The nurse reassured me Uncle John was fine, and coming round gently from the anaesthetic; it was also a relief of sorts to learn later, the drain had been inserted in his liver.
It just seemed so hard that all the time Wendy was with him, Uncle John had been as fit as a flea, and now we are all so far away, he is ill, and we can't visit him. One of the nurses was very sympathetic, and understood how much we love him. She said, "It's good to know he's got people close to him!" and I replied, "We do love him - even if we're a long distance away in miles, he's very close to our hearts!"
I rang again when it was morning in Australia - the 10-hour time difference between the UK and Brisbane is confusing! - and he had had breakfast - porridge - so he was doing well. The nurse took the phone to Uncle John, and we tried to have a quick chat, but he needed fresh batteries for his deaf aid, and if was difficult for him to hear me. At least he knew I had called, and was thinking of him!
Later on, in the evening in Brisbane, I rang once more; this time, Uncle John had got new batteries, and we were able to have a short conversation, and he had a quick word with Mum, too. Of course, Mum does not realise Uncle John is in hospital - I tried to tell her something of what had happened, but it was too complicated to get Mum to understand, and I did not have many details to relate.
He sounded much more like himself, and I told him we are all thinking of him, sending him all our love, and that I would ring again soon. I asked him what had happened to him, but he was quite vague, except he knew he had been moved from a much more intensive care ward to another ward - I'm guessing he was in an Intensive Care Unit after the operation, and now back on a general ward.
Grandson Al said the most common cause that would involve Uncle John having a drain inserted into his liver would be gallstones, or a blocked bile duct. Statistics listing complications are reassuringly very low.
I know how busy the nursing staff are, so I decided not to try calling again until Monday; but in the meantime, I wrote a card for Uncle John, (with a cat on the cover, naturally!), and posted it to him C/o Princess Alexandra Hospital. It caught the Saturday morning collection, and I hope it might arrive before he's discharged. I enclosed three photos of him and Wendy enjoying a meal at the Forest Lake Hotel on 3 March - he looks so well and happy, and we all hope it won't be long before he's back home and completely well again.
It's not practicable to go to Australia for the weekend, and I can't arrange cover for someone to look after Mum for longer than 48 hours, so it is Wendy who flies to Brisbane every year, to spend a couple of weeks with Uncle John, and introduce a little bit of normal family life into his day-to-day routine.
He has a "unit" in Marsden, where he is quite self-sufficient; he goes for lunch in the dining room, and otherwise caters for himself, but he does admit to being lonely. One of the problems is due to his deafness; although he has a deaf aid, when he is sitting at a table with five other chaps eating their meal and chatting away, his deaf aid is not the type that can filter out extraneous noise, which means Uncle John can't hear individual conversations. It does make for a lonelier life. If you can't hear what people are saying, apart from being isolating, folk can also get irritated with you, if they have to keep repeating what they have just said.
I remember my Grandma telling me that, when she became profoundly deaf, her father said, "Alice, your disability is very annoying!" - as if my Grandma could help it! The truth is, hearing people are not always patient.
Back to Uncle John: when Wendy is with him, they have great time together. Wendy hires a car (Wendy will never knowingly be without wheels!) and they drive to various places of interest, and they enjoy lovely lunches at the Forest Lake Hotel - steak usually - or else Wendy will cook for them both in the apartment she rents in Brisbane. It works very well.
In February, Wendy flew out as usual; Wendy thought that at first, Uncle John seemed a bit less energetic than he was last year, although of course we are all 12 months older! and soon she and Uncle John had picked up a nice routine, and after some days of good company and a few outings, Uncle John was back to his old self.
It was a sad time when Wendy had to leave; Uncle John knows Wendy doesn't get much leave, but she spends as much of her holidays with him as she can. He also knows she will be back again next year.
Once Wendy arrived home, I rang Uncle John, to let him know she had landed safely, but he did not pick up the phone. It rang and it rang and it rang, and although I kept trying over several days, still I got no answer. Wendy said it could be because the ear-piece of his deaf aid was uncomfortable, and he often takes his deaf aids out, so he wouldn't hear the phone ringing; this was a feasible explanation, but I was still a bit worried not to have made contact for so many days.
Four days ago, I woke up at 3.00 a.m. and had this niggling feeling that I really must investigate further; I was sure all was not well. After ringing Uncle John's number once more, and still getting no answer, I rang the Warden at Marsden, and asked if he knew if Uncle John was alright? It was an awful shock when he said, "No, John's in hospital. His neighbours have said they've heard the phone ringing a lot..." The Warden didn't know what was the matter with Uncle John, only that he had been taken to Logan Hospital.
Then followed some more investigative work; I rang Logan Hospital, and got through to someone in administration. After some while, the lady said, "Oh, John Woods has been discharged!"
"Can you please tell me where to?" I asked. "I know he isn't back home in Marsden, because I've spoken to the Warden, and he is certainly not in his Unit."
More checking and looking up ensued, and eventually the answer was found: "He's been transferred to Princess Alexandra Hospital."
Well, all sorts of things were going through my head! Uncle John is nearly 96, and at that age, I know anything can happen.
"Is that a specialist hospital?" I asked, almost dreading the worst.
"No," she said, "it's just bigger."
She gave me the telephone number, and my next call was to Princess Alexandra Hospital.
At least there, they could tell me pretty quickly which ward Uncle John was on, and they put me through. I spoke to a helpful nurse, who said he was back on the ward, but he was asleep. A bit later on, I rang again ask if I could talk to him. Another nurse took the phone to Uncle John, and I heard her ask him if he "...wanted to talk to Alex?" and I was quite shocked to hear his very drowsy reply, "No, not at the moment..."
Even in whatever sort of a state he was (and, at that point, I didn't know anything about what had happened to him). Uncle John was still very gentle and polite!
As I'm not his next of kin, I asked if it would be possible for someone to ask Uncle John - when he was properly awake - if he would give his permission for them to tell me what has happened, and give me news about his progress?
At least I was given a little information: he had had a drain inserted. I didn't know where the drain had been placed, and I remember back in 1938, his and Mum's brother Austin was so ill with pneumonia, he had had drains inserted in his lungs. Shortly after that, Austin had died, so this news really worried me.
The nurse reassured me Uncle John was fine, and coming round gently from the anaesthetic; it was also a relief of sorts to learn later, the drain had been inserted in his liver.
It just seemed so hard that all the time Wendy was with him, Uncle John had been as fit as a flea, and now we are all so far away, he is ill, and we can't visit him. One of the nurses was very sympathetic, and understood how much we love him. She said, "It's good to know he's got people close to him!" and I replied, "We do love him - even if we're a long distance away in miles, he's very close to our hearts!"
I rang again when it was morning in Australia - the 10-hour time difference between the UK and Brisbane is confusing! - and he had had breakfast - porridge - so he was doing well. The nurse took the phone to Uncle John, and we tried to have a quick chat, but he needed fresh batteries for his deaf aid, and if was difficult for him to hear me. At least he knew I had called, and was thinking of him!
Later on, in the evening in Brisbane, I rang once more; this time, Uncle John had got new batteries, and we were able to have a short conversation, and he had a quick word with Mum, too. Of course, Mum does not realise Uncle John is in hospital - I tried to tell her something of what had happened, but it was too complicated to get Mum to understand, and I did not have many details to relate.
He sounded much more like himself, and I told him we are all thinking of him, sending him all our love, and that I would ring again soon. I asked him what had happened to him, but he was quite vague, except he knew he had been moved from a much more intensive care ward to another ward - I'm guessing he was in an Intensive Care Unit after the operation, and now back on a general ward.
Grandson Al said the most common cause that would involve Uncle John having a drain inserted into his liver would be gallstones, or a blocked bile duct. Statistics listing complications are reassuringly very low.
I know how busy the nursing staff are, so I decided not to try calling again until Monday; but in the meantime, I wrote a card for Uncle John, (with a cat on the cover, naturally!), and posted it to him C/o Princess Alexandra Hospital. It caught the Saturday morning collection, and I hope it might arrive before he's discharged. I enclosed three photos of him and Wendy enjoying a meal at the Forest Lake Hotel on 3 March - he looks so well and happy, and we all hope it won't be long before he's back home and completely well again.
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| Wendy and Uncle John enjoying dinner at The Forest Lake Hotel 3 March 2019 |
Monday, 11 March 2019
Mum Gets A New Sling
Mum Gets A New Sling
When she first came home on 28 March 2012, Mum was hoisted in and out of bed, but then, as she became confident to weight bear long enough to "twiddle" herself round and sit on the chair or glider commode, she did not have to use the hoist - and therefore had no need of the sling either - at all.
It's only been the last year or so that Mum's strength and confidence waned, which then necessitated the use of the hoist, and ever since Mum has had be hoisted on a regular basis, the carers have used the original slings that were provided nearly 7 years ago.
When she first came home on 28 March 2012, Mum was hoisted in and out of bed, but then, as she became confident to weight bear long enough to "twiddle" herself round and sit on the chair or glider commode, she did not have to use the hoist - and therefore had no need of the sling either - at all.
It's only been the last year or so that Mum's strength and confidence waned, which then necessitated the use of the hoist, and ever since Mum has had be hoisted on a regular basis, the carers have used the original slings that were provided nearly 7 years ago.
To begin with, although she really didn't like being lifted in and out of bed, and up from the chair to the glider, Mum got used to routine and coped with it. However, after a fairly short time, the texture of the material used for the sling became a problem. The "body" of the sling obviously has to be strong enough to take the weight of people much heavier than Mum, but it is quite harsh, and then there is the binding that goes all round the sling, which is even harder. After the carers had positioned Mum in the sling, and hooked it up with the straps to the hoist, as she went up in the air, the edges of the sling began to press and cut into her flesh, especially around the top of her legs. No matter how carefully the carers tried to make sure that the sling was placed perfectly evenly around her thighs, it was still such a painful manoeuvre, that Mum would cry out, "You're hurting me! You're hurting me!"
This clearly couldn't go on, and so Mum's lovely Occupational Therapist (OT) Kerry came to see her, to assess what sling would be better for Mum, and a lot kinder and gentler on her skin.
Another sling was chosen; after it was delivered, Kerry came round to see it "in action." It was certainly better than the original versions, and we agreed to continue with it, and see how Mum got on. Alas, after a short while, it became clear it was still too hard and uncomfortable for Mum. She is nearly 100 years old, and her skin is so sensitive, she needed a bespoke sling to suit her needs.
Kerry then organised two separate visits from reps from mobility equipment supply companies. Both brought samples to show what slings they had, but the second gentleman who came to round had grasped the problem and clearly had the most choice to demonstrate what was available. Kerry was very thorough, checking every sample. Eventually, a beautifully soft sling was chosen as being perfect for Mum. It was very strong, but made of a far superior material, and as she was lifted up, the sling gently folded itself around her like a cocoon. Mum was hoisted up and down several times, without making a single protest.
This was a great result, so Kerry went ahead and ordered one for Mum. It was agreed that if, after a trial period, it was still proving successful, she would order a second sling, so that if one had to be washed, Mum would not have to revert to the old originals.
Most of Mum's carers had not seen this particular type of sling before, but Kerry showed two ladies, who are with Mum on a very regular basis, how to use it; soon the instructions on technique were relayed to everyone on the team, and it has turned out to be the best sling Mum could have.
It is wonderful that Mum has a very conscientious OT, who is always determined to achieve a good result for Mum, and make sure she is kept happy and comfortable every day.
Monday, 25 February 2019
The Meow Song
The Meow Song
I have written about how Mum loves to sing when I play the piano and most evenings, we have great sing-alongs.
During these sessions, Blackie can quite often be found outside Mum's bedroom, "standing guard," as it were, or curled up on the carpet in the hall.
A couple of evenings ago, we were running through the repertoire, and started singing "Now Is The Hour," a Maori song from the war years. The first line of the lyric is "...Now is the hour, when we must say goodbye..." and the way the music flows, in a lilting waltz, frequently gives rise to the temptation of adding a "Meow" at the end of each line.
Usually, this rather daft addition passes off with a bit of a smile, with Mum singing away merrily in full voice; on this occasion, we were joined by Blackie and, exactly on the beat, as we sang "...goodbye..." Blackie stood in the middle of Mum's bedroom and went "Meow!" How I carried on playing without dissolving into a fit of the giggles, I don't know.
"Soon you'll be sailing, far across the sea..." sang Mum, and in came Blackie, again perfectly on cue, with "Meow!"
It is not a long song, and Blackie stayed with us, adding his inimitable solo spot, right to the end.
He's a great cat; a wonderful pet; and, we now know, a talented performer as well!
He's a great cat; a wonderful pet; and, we now know, a talented performer as well!
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| Cabaret Star Blackie |
Sunday, 17 February 2019
Christmases Away From Home
Christmases Away From Home
I love Christmas. Yes, it's busy, there is a lot to do, but I usually start early with Christmas cards and letter writing (I have a very long list!) and it's worth making the effort at least once a year, to keep in touch with folks we know and love.
In the old days (i.e., when I first came back to England, and when Wendy was very young), we used to eat Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. We always dressed up; Wendy's dad wore a DJ and Wendy and I wore long dresses. Having got all the cooking done and the turkey eaten and enjoyed on December 24th, it meant Christmas Day was a very gentle, easy time, which we could relax into and be peaceful, and enjoy the true spirit of Christmas. Every year, Wendy's Dad made a short sound cine film of Wendy singing the carols she had learned at school. Wendy was in the choir, and there was a concert at the end of term, so on Christmas Day it was our family tradition that we would gather round the piano, I'd play that year's selection of carols, Wendy would sing, and Bob would film it.
As time rolled on though - and especially in more recent times, with Mum getting older, but before she fell and broke her ankle in 2011 - it became more of an effort to do things the same way each Christmas. In any case, traditions are fine, but sometimes need to be amended and adapted to different situations.
In 2004, I read an advertisement for Christmas at The Four Pillars Hotel in Witney, Oxfordshire, and my goodness, the idea of someone else taking responsibility for all the preparations, cooking and entertaining, really appealed! The whole family agreed we should try it, so I went ahead and make the reservation.
It was a really lovely arrangement, as the Christmas package covered four nights. On arrival on December 23, the guests were greeted by the Manager with tea in the lounge, a welcoming sherry and carols with members of the local Church, followed by dinner. Starting the Christmas break on 23 December was such a good idea, as it meant you had plenty of time to "settle in" and there was no rush to dive straight into the festivities, which began on Christmas Eve.
During the day on 24 December, we used to walk to the village of Ducklington, where there was a charming duckpond, complete with ducks. This pleased me very much. I love ducks, and have fond memories from my childhood visits back to England, buying "six penn'orth of stale bread" and feeding the ducks in Grange-over-Sands. Those ducks got to know me, and would come up quacking, and pecking at my trouser legs, until they got their share of crumbs. To this day I cannot eat a dish of duck......
During the day on 24 December, we used to walk to the village of Ducklington, where there was a charming duckpond, complete with ducks. This pleased me very much. I love ducks, and have fond memories from my childhood visits back to England, buying "six penn'orth of stale bread" and feeding the ducks in Grange-over-Sands. Those ducks got to know me, and would come up quacking, and pecking at my trouser legs, until they got their share of crumbs. To this day I cannot eat a dish of duck......
We also drove into Witney to look round the shops - it was nice, and Wendy found a lovely shoe shop which suited her style perfectly.
At this point, even though she was in a lot of pain with her hip and her knee, Mum was still able walk. When we went into Witney, we took a folding wheelchair chair with us and put it together when we reached the village. Al was a willing assistant for Mum, pushing her along until she found somewhere she wanted to visit. If she was wheeled up to the door of a shop, it wasn't such an effort for her to stand up, go in and look around and she really liked that.
We were given a programme of events - everyone was welcome to join in as many or as few as they liked. The staff were so well organised, enthusiastic and helpful, it was so relaxing to be carried along on the gentle swell with people who knew how to take care of the guests and entertain them.
On Christmas Eve there was dinner and dancing, with everyone dressed up for the occasion. Later on, there was also a midnight service at the local Church, with so many worshippers in the congregation, it was full to overflowing; everyone was made welcome.
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| Al pushing Great Grandma around Witney |
On Christmas Eve there was dinner and dancing, with everyone dressed up for the occasion. Later on, there was also a midnight service at the local Church, with so many worshippers in the congregation, it was full to overflowing; everyone was made welcome.
On Christmas morning, every guest found a stocking attached to the outside door handle - the staff had been busy! After breakfast, we opened all our presents we had brought with us from home; depending on the weather, we went for a stroll - it was bliss not to have to do anything, but just "be" until lunch time, when all the guests gathered for a grand Christmas dinner.
Lilian, the Restaurant Manager, was a very charming young man from France; he realised Mum had trouble walking, so he personally collected her from her room and took Mum on his arm, bringing her into the dining room. Mum was thrilled to bits at the attention! and Father Christmas came to every table with gifts.
In the evening, there were games; and if anyone was inclined to visit the spa, you could relax in the pool or the jacuzzi. Wendy and I had a go at learning to swim - I still think it's miraculous when I get my feet off the bottom of the pool for a couple of seconds. I am always in the shallow end! and thank goodness for the buoyant lengths of foam to hold on to, giving me confidence.
On Boxing Day, there was a buffet lunch, followed by more games, bingo, a casino, "horse" racing in the lounge and, in the evening, another dinner dance where guests were invited to wear fancy dress. It was great fun.
People who work in hospitality, catering and hotels are usually hard at work when everyone else is concentrating on enjoying themselves; I never forget that they also have homes to go to, and would like to celebrate the festivities with their own families, but at the Four Pillars, the staff enveloped everyone in a feeling of being part of a happy crowd. They were enthusiastic and helpful, and nothing was too much trouble.
The only other time I recall being away from home at Christmas time was one year when we were on board ship - we were either sailing back home to the UK or going back to East Africa. I was 7, and at the time I remember thinking, "Well, I know there are funnels on this ship - but how is Father Christmas going to manage to climb down one of them?!" It didn't destroy the magic, though.
On 27 December, it was time for us to leave for home. The Christmas break had provided us with a truly Merry Christmas, and if you take the analogy of the railway advertisement slogan, "Let The Train Take The Strain," for us it was more that "The Four Pillars Hotel Really Rang Our Bell!"
We had had a marvellous time; in fact, we had enjoyed it so much, we went back in 2005, 2006 and 2007!
Thursday, 14 February 2019
And Then At The Weekend...
And Then At The Weekend...
On Saturday, I was up very bright and early; I planned to meet Wendy in town, and have breakfast with her at Garfunkels in Leicester Square. There was someone wonderful to look after Mum whilst I was out for a few hours, but I had to make sure everything was organised for Mum before I left.
Everything went like clockwork; the ladies arrived and washed and dressed Mum, and sat her in the chair; we washed her hands and helped her to brush her teeth, and then I started her off on cornflakes and tea and made sure she had her four pills.
I got into London at about 10.45; Wendy was already seated in Garfunkels, and it was lovely to have a leisurely breakfast with her. Wendy will soon be off on another trip to visit Uncle John, so after we'd eaten, we went to Fortnum and Mason to stock up on tea and biscuits and a few other treats for Wendy to take with her. I do love shopping at Fortnum and Mason - it's so elegant, and there is always someone immediately at your elbow to help answer any queries. Although at first glance it might appear very formal, the staff also have a great sense of humour, especially when I asked about finding a jar of their chilli-willy-Piccadilly-piccalilli!
Whilst she's away, Wendy will also be visiting Jane, the daughter of a lady called Mary who, all those years ago, was Mum's best friend in Durban. Jane lives a little way from Brisbane, but it's a nice day trip out, and Wendy and Uncle John will be able to visit her, so we chose some goodies for Jane and her family as well.
Wendy stayed in town to meet other friends for supper; I got home in the mid-afternoon, whilst Mum was having her afternoon nap. It was such a treat to have been able to have a few hours free to see Wendy and enjoy a nice time with her.
I got on with making Mum's dinner; she got up very happily and ate well, and was in a happy mood. After supper, I played the piano and we sang; Mum joined in with great gusto. When the ladies arrived to get Mum into bed, they heard Mum singing, and applauded her - she was in very good voice.
Sunday was a little more difficult; Mum was up happily enough, and had her breakfast - again, reasonably quickly, and she had finished her tea by mid-day - but she said she was tired, and had kept dozing off in between mouthfuls of cornflakes, so when the ladies came at 12.30 to get her into bed for her nap, we thought she was certainly ready for a snooze.
However, even though she was tucked up comfortably, Mum did not sleep. She was very restless and agitated, and kept calling out, "Dad! Dad!" She was convinced that the wardrobe door was the back door to the garden, and asked us to let her mother in.
The ladies were back at 4.30 and took her to the bathroom before sitting Mum back in her chair. Wendy rang at 5.00 p.m., and had a chat with Mum - Mum was quite lucid, but we had a sense there was a restlessness there, and Sydney said we should not leave Mum on her on her own, so we made sure someone stayed with her.
I got on with making Mum's dinner immediately, and brought it through for her; again, Mum ate well, and then she became engrossed in a programme on t.v. about Africa - she remembers so much about the time we lived there, and of course she knows all the animals, so it was a good distraction for her. She became calmer and later on was very content to tear up pages from one of the supermarket catalogues. (We have a gentle theory that she is making confetti, or hamster bedding.... yes, they are old jokes, but still make us smile!)
After supper, Leanne and Sydney returned for the bed call; at first, Mum settled down nicely, but then she became restless again, pulling the bedside table at all angles to the bed. Earlier, I had put Sudocrem on her arms, and then covered them with kitchen towel to help keep the cream in place; I do this every evening, but tonight, within a short time, Mum had pulled everything off, so I guessed more Sudocrem ended up on the sheet than on Mum's skin.
I went in several times to her, to encourage her to try to sleep, but she kept calling out that she was "...Ready to go!" and that Wendy had been in to see her. There was a lot more of this, and it went on for several hours, whilst I was working upstairs, writing. I went down a few times to remind her it was very late, and time to sleep!
At 2.00 a.m., I went in to Mum one more time; by then, I was really tired. I said, very firmly,
"I'm going to bed now, Ma. It's two o'clock in the morning, and I am very tired!"
Mum was all bright-eyed and wide awake. "Oh, haven't you been asleep then?"
"No, I haven't, and I am going to bed now!"
I asked Mum, "Are you comfy?"
"Yes, I am," she replied.
"Are you warm?" I asked
"Yes, I'm warm," she said.
"Good! Then I am going to bed now. You settle down and get some sleep!"
Back upstairs, I heard Mum talking again - I think to Wendy- saying she was "...Ready to go...." I realised this could possibly go on for hours, and I really did need to get some rest myself. I left the bedroom door ajar; I have good hearing, and knew I would hear Ma, if she became really agitated, but after about an hour or so, Mum was quiet.
And I also got some sleep.
I wonder if she will ready for getting up in the morning, or perhaps sleeping through to lunchtime again? Time will tell!
On Saturday, I was up very bright and early; I planned to meet Wendy in town, and have breakfast with her at Garfunkels in Leicester Square. There was someone wonderful to look after Mum whilst I was out for a few hours, but I had to make sure everything was organised for Mum before I left.
Everything went like clockwork; the ladies arrived and washed and dressed Mum, and sat her in the chair; we washed her hands and helped her to brush her teeth, and then I started her off on cornflakes and tea and made sure she had her four pills.
I got into London at about 10.45; Wendy was already seated in Garfunkels, and it was lovely to have a leisurely breakfast with her. Wendy will soon be off on another trip to visit Uncle John, so after we'd eaten, we went to Fortnum and Mason to stock up on tea and biscuits and a few other treats for Wendy to take with her. I do love shopping at Fortnum and Mason - it's so elegant, and there is always someone immediately at your elbow to help answer any queries. Although at first glance it might appear very formal, the staff also have a great sense of humour, especially when I asked about finding a jar of their chilli-willy-Piccadilly-piccalilli!
Whilst she's away, Wendy will also be visiting Jane, the daughter of a lady called Mary who, all those years ago, was Mum's best friend in Durban. Jane lives a little way from Brisbane, but it's a nice day trip out, and Wendy and Uncle John will be able to visit her, so we chose some goodies for Jane and her family as well.
Wendy stayed in town to meet other friends for supper; I got home in the mid-afternoon, whilst Mum was having her afternoon nap. It was such a treat to have been able to have a few hours free to see Wendy and enjoy a nice time with her.
I got on with making Mum's dinner; she got up very happily and ate well, and was in a happy mood. After supper, I played the piano and we sang; Mum joined in with great gusto. When the ladies arrived to get Mum into bed, they heard Mum singing, and applauded her - she was in very good voice.
Sunday was a little more difficult; Mum was up happily enough, and had her breakfast - again, reasonably quickly, and she had finished her tea by mid-day - but she said she was tired, and had kept dozing off in between mouthfuls of cornflakes, so when the ladies came at 12.30 to get her into bed for her nap, we thought she was certainly ready for a snooze.
However, even though she was tucked up comfortably, Mum did not sleep. She was very restless and agitated, and kept calling out, "Dad! Dad!" She was convinced that the wardrobe door was the back door to the garden, and asked us to let her mother in.
The ladies were back at 4.30 and took her to the bathroom before sitting Mum back in her chair. Wendy rang at 5.00 p.m., and had a chat with Mum - Mum was quite lucid, but we had a sense there was a restlessness there, and Sydney said we should not leave Mum on her on her own, so we made sure someone stayed with her.
I got on with making Mum's dinner immediately, and brought it through for her; again, Mum ate well, and then she became engrossed in a programme on t.v. about Africa - she remembers so much about the time we lived there, and of course she knows all the animals, so it was a good distraction for her. She became calmer and later on was very content to tear up pages from one of the supermarket catalogues. (We have a gentle theory that she is making confetti, or hamster bedding.... yes, they are old jokes, but still make us smile!)
After supper, Leanne and Sydney returned for the bed call; at first, Mum settled down nicely, but then she became restless again, pulling the bedside table at all angles to the bed. Earlier, I had put Sudocrem on her arms, and then covered them with kitchen towel to help keep the cream in place; I do this every evening, but tonight, within a short time, Mum had pulled everything off, so I guessed more Sudocrem ended up on the sheet than on Mum's skin.
I went in several times to her, to encourage her to try to sleep, but she kept calling out that she was "...Ready to go!" and that Wendy had been in to see her. There was a lot more of this, and it went on for several hours, whilst I was working upstairs, writing. I went down a few times to remind her it was very late, and time to sleep!
At 2.00 a.m., I went in to Mum one more time; by then, I was really tired. I said, very firmly,
"I'm going to bed now, Ma. It's two o'clock in the morning, and I am very tired!"
Mum was all bright-eyed and wide awake. "Oh, haven't you been asleep then?"
"No, I haven't, and I am going to bed now!"
I asked Mum, "Are you comfy?"
"Yes, I am," she replied.
"Are you warm?" I asked
"Yes, I'm warm," she said.
"Good! Then I am going to bed now. You settle down and get some sleep!"
Back upstairs, I heard Mum talking again - I think to Wendy- saying she was "...Ready to go...." I realised this could possibly go on for hours, and I really did need to get some rest myself. I left the bedroom door ajar; I have good hearing, and knew I would hear Ma, if she became really agitated, but after about an hour or so, Mum was quiet.
And I also got some sleep.
I wonder if she will ready for getting up in the morning, or perhaps sleeping through to lunchtime again? Time will tell!
Tuesday, 12 February 2019
What A Difference A Day Makes...
What A Difference A Day Makes...
Friday morning: Mum's lovely carers Sue and Nikki came to get Mum washed and up and dressed; the first part of the trilogy was achieved, but after the day we had had yesterday, it was no surprise that Mum had exhausted herself. She stayed in bed, sleeping soundly.
When the ladies returned at lunchtime, Mum was still "out of it" - we thought she looked a bit flushed, so I took her temperature; happily, it was perfectly normal. She was sleeping peacefully, breathing easily so, after her pad was changed, Mum was left to sleep on.
Mum had been in bed since 8.45 last night, and had slept right through breakfast and lunchtime; as usual, I was worried about her not having had any food or liquid, and it's also better to be up and out of bed if possible, so that her chest is kept clear.
At my request, Sydney and Jodie said they would come a little early, at 3.30, to see if they could rouse Mum; if she was awake, they would get her up and settled in the chair.
Until Jodie and Sydney arrived, I played the piano - first some songs that Mum knows and usually joins in with, but as there was not a peep out of Mum, I went on to play "Alice and Variations," a piece my Grandma loved. Her name was also Alice, and when I was 10 years old, I learned to play it for her. It is fiendishly difficult, and I am fairly saddened to admit I played it better was I was 10, than I do now, 62 years later! I need more practice.
Mum was still asleep when the ladies arrived, but we all made a concerted effort to get Mum going. I washed Mum's face, and that was when she began to wake up.
"Is that nice, Ma?" I asked her.
"Yes, it's lovely. But I'm still wet ..." pointing to her forehead.
"Oh, I'll get that dry," I said, patting her gently with a clean tissue.
After that it got easier. Jodie and Sydney were able to take Mum to the bathroom to wash her hands, and I am sure she felt very much better after that, and having had a change of scene.
On a technical matter, we found the controller that changes the position of the bed was not working properly; when we pressed the button to lower the bed, it went down at one end but not the other, so Sydney got underneath the bed to see what had happened. One of the leads going into the distributor box had worked loose, and needed to be pushed back into place, and she sorted it all out in a couple of minutes.
Jodie and Sydney said, "We come up against these problems a lot!" and it was inspiring to know how quickly they can turn their hands to rectify them. They have to be more than carers, there's an important element of mechanical know-how required as well!
After that, we had a lovely afternoon and evening. We got Mum's hands and face washed, her teeth brushed, and we went straight to dinner. Mum was really hungry and polished off her food more quickly than usual.
"Are you thirsty, Mum?" I asked her.
"No," she said; but she still drank her tea nicely.
Later on, Mum had supper, with more tea and cake; she was definitely back to normal, happy and reasonable.
A wonderful bonus was that Blackie decided to join us. He comes into Mum's room quite often, even if it's only a short visit for a quick check round the piano, wardrobes, etc., but this evening he stayed for a much longer time.
The chair I use when I am sitting beside Mum has two nice cushions on it, so it is very comfy; and at one point, as I was standing up to give Mum her tea, Blackie decided my chair was just the ticket. As he is also getting on a bit, it's clear he sometimes has problems with jumping and has to think twice about what he wants to do, but tonight it was a clean leap and a safe landing on the cushions.
He stood still for a few moments, and Mum said, "I think he's going to sit down!"
"I think he will!" I agreed.
Blackie gently settled himself on top of the cushions and then put his paw out on the arm of Mum's chair. Mum was so chuffed at this, and stroked his head and talked to him. I had no idea how long Blackie would stay, but I took Mum's dishes away, and picked up the camera. Blackie was perfectly contented to sit beside Mum, and I took a few photos of them together; a really happy twosome.
It's lovely having a record of times like these; I can show the pictures to Mum, and remind her how happy a particular day has been. After yesterday, it certainly shows "What a difference a day makes..."
Friday morning: Mum's lovely carers Sue and Nikki came to get Mum washed and up and dressed; the first part of the trilogy was achieved, but after the day we had had yesterday, it was no surprise that Mum had exhausted herself. She stayed in bed, sleeping soundly.
When the ladies returned at lunchtime, Mum was still "out of it" - we thought she looked a bit flushed, so I took her temperature; happily, it was perfectly normal. She was sleeping peacefully, breathing easily so, after her pad was changed, Mum was left to sleep on.
Mum had been in bed since 8.45 last night, and had slept right through breakfast and lunchtime; as usual, I was worried about her not having had any food or liquid, and it's also better to be up and out of bed if possible, so that her chest is kept clear.
At my request, Sydney and Jodie said they would come a little early, at 3.30, to see if they could rouse Mum; if she was awake, they would get her up and settled in the chair.
Mum was still asleep when the ladies arrived, but we all made a concerted effort to get Mum going. I washed Mum's face, and that was when she began to wake up.
"Is that nice, Ma?" I asked her.
"Yes, it's lovely. But I'm still wet ..." pointing to her forehead.
"Oh, I'll get that dry," I said, patting her gently with a clean tissue.
After that it got easier. Jodie and Sydney were able to take Mum to the bathroom to wash her hands, and I am sure she felt very much better after that, and having had a change of scene.
On a technical matter, we found the controller that changes the position of the bed was not working properly; when we pressed the button to lower the bed, it went down at one end but not the other, so Sydney got underneath the bed to see what had happened. One of the leads going into the distributor box had worked loose, and needed to be pushed back into place, and she sorted it all out in a couple of minutes.
Jodie and Sydney said, "We come up against these problems a lot!" and it was inspiring to know how quickly they can turn their hands to rectify them. They have to be more than carers, there's an important element of mechanical know-how required as well!
After that, we had a lovely afternoon and evening. We got Mum's hands and face washed, her teeth brushed, and we went straight to dinner. Mum was really hungry and polished off her food more quickly than usual.
"Are you thirsty, Mum?" I asked her.
"No," she said; but she still drank her tea nicely.
Later on, Mum had supper, with more tea and cake; she was definitely back to normal, happy and reasonable.
A wonderful bonus was that Blackie decided to join us. He comes into Mum's room quite often, even if it's only a short visit for a quick check round the piano, wardrobes, etc., but this evening he stayed for a much longer time.
The chair I use when I am sitting beside Mum has two nice cushions on it, so it is very comfy; and at one point, as I was standing up to give Mum her tea, Blackie decided my chair was just the ticket. As he is also getting on a bit, it's clear he sometimes has problems with jumping and has to think twice about what he wants to do, but tonight it was a clean leap and a safe landing on the cushions.
He stood still for a few moments, and Mum said, "I think he's going to sit down!"
"I think he will!" I agreed.
Blackie gently settled himself on top of the cushions and then put his paw out on the arm of Mum's chair. Mum was so chuffed at this, and stroked his head and talked to him. I had no idea how long Blackie would stay, but I took Mum's dishes away, and picked up the camera. Blackie was perfectly contented to sit beside Mum, and I took a few photos of them together; a really happy twosome.
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| "I'm here! Ready for some fussing!" |
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| Blackie's full attention has been gained |
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| More Cat Companionship |
It's lovely having a record of times like these; I can show the pictures to Mum, and remind her how happy a particular day has been. After yesterday, it certainly shows "What a difference a day makes..."
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