Jenny Burrell

I’m struggling to write this blog. So much has happened over the last couple of weeks! I lost my beloved mother and then my dear, pragmatic mother in law on the night of Mum’s funeral service.

I’ll never forget Thursday the 19th March 2020!

Three days earlier my brother thought he had contracted Covid-19. I received his email directly after my cousin had rung to say that her and her seventy year old husband wouldn’t be attending Mum’s funeral service. This phone call on its own would not have caused any serious concern. However, all my friends had sent their apologies, leaving close family, just one couple, a dear friend and her husband and the lovely carers from Mum’s care home to join the small family gathering,

Panic ensued as I tried to find a vicar to replace my brother. He was taking the service! A friend suggested I contact her vicar and by the end of the evening I had found a replacement.

So not all bad? My daughter and her cousin from Australia were sharing the Tribute. I received a phone call from my daughter early the next morning, two days before the service. She either had a bad dose of flu, or the Coronavirus!

I surpassed panic! My daughter was very ill. I had to stay away from her and hope she would recover! A few hours later I received a phone call from my brother. He had woken up that morning feeling well, no high temperature and no cough. He rang 111 and was released from self isolation as his symptoms had lasted less than forty eight hours!

So I had to cancel the kind vicar who had offered herself as a replacement. Back on track? Alas not! We also had to cancel the wake. Due to the small number attending the funeral and ‘self distancing’ advice from the government, the decision was made with a heavy heart.

Thursday dawned, dull but dry. My mobile rang in the kitchen and my brother in law answered. My mother in law had been found unconscious and was being rushed to hospital! My husband decided to attend my mother’s funeral and then go to Leeds. His brother was already on his way to the hospital so would keep him updated.

My Australian niece and nephew managed to set up a link so that family and friends around the world were able to join us for the service. This meant so much to me and went a long way to ease the distress of the absence of my daughter and close family members. My daughter was able to give her tribute, which we heard loudly and clearly and she felt so much better being able to take part. I shall remain forever grateful to these two special young people!

Unfortunately my mother in law passed away that night. Bereft of both mother and mother in law and draconian travel restrictions now in place makes administration requirements almost impossible. Solicitors, death certificates, funeral arrangements must all be managed remotely. Kind neighbours are helping remove perishables and looking after my mother in law’s house.

We are where we are and ‘all in this together’! There is nothing we can do but knuckle down and wait for the Coronavirus pandemic to pass. By staying at home we are doing our bit to bring this virus under control. Nothing lasts forever, neither the good nor the bad. This was one of my lovely mother’s sayings.

So, Rest in Peace two very special ladies. You leave your legacy of dignity, care, kindness, compassion and a whole lot of love. We’ll miss you but our precious memories live on. Gone but never forgotten❤️

My dearest Mum

I can approach my farewell letter to you in one of two ways. I can feel bitter and angry about an evil, debilitating disease that finally destroyed you. Or I can look back on a life that was lived to the full and feel proud of what you achieved and grateful for the legacy you have left behind.

I’m going with the latter.

The last couple of months have been difficult. I have watched you struggle as dementia finally gained control. But you soldiered on, determined to fight this destructive disease with dignity and pride. I smiled when I saw you pull your skirt down if it rode above your knees. I loved the way you held your saucer and drank your tea like the lady you were.

But eventually the time comes when even the strongest and most resilient individual gives up the fight and goes to sleep!

So let us take a walk down memory lane.

Do you remember our school holidays when you took friends and cousins for picnics on the beach? How you laughed when a man drove past, opened his window and shouted ‘imagine having a family that size!’

And then there were the charity concerts you organised at the church. M and I were given the lead roles so you could ensure we learnt our lines (you were a perfectionist) but always very proud of us. Your three children were musical acts as well! We entertained ‘old dears’ in care homes, played our guitars and sang in community centres. At other times son D played the violin, I played the piano and M had the lovely singing voice.

You were never one to let the grass grow under your feet! You were always on a mission. You loved playing tennis and your glass was always half full! Actually, most times it overflowed!

When we had all flown the nest you started on your biggest challenge, to become a published author. You didn’t just get one book published! You got over a dozen with a number of them translated into many different languages!

You wrote articles for magazines and newspapers. You had your own column in a Kimberley newspaper, the Diamond Fields Advertiser, calling yourself Aunty Di. After moving to Johannesburg, you had a column in the Randburg Sun where you were known as Aunty Sue. You loved children and your grandchildren loved visiting because ‘Granny was such fun’!

I could go on and on! You achieved more than most people could ever dream of! The eldest in a family of ten, at ninety, you outlived a number of your siblings. You and Dad had the perfect marriage and I know that the years spent in Knysna were some of your happiest. Dad was a well known and respected wild life artist. You both had your ‘day jobs’ and met up at meal times. You read a chapter of your book to Dad and he would advise. In turn, you critiqued his paintings. A union made in heaven!

You were a beautiful woman and exuded confidence. Not many ladies in their fifties would embark on a modelling career. Well, you did and became a much sought after ‘Granny’ model!

You always had high standards and stuck to them! Every morning you would apply makeup and ensure your hair was immaculate. M and I have not let you down! We have followed by example.

You had a wicked sense of humour! When your sister visited the pair of you would be in hysterics, much to the annoyance of Dad. He would eventually leave the room, shaking his head, completely baffled! I can remember how, as a family, we laughed until tears streamed down our faces and our stomachs ached! And then we’d dance, for hours, music blaring, singing at the tops of our voices. Just the girls! Dad and D never got it!

So, it is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye. The care you received was exemplary. I cannot praise those ‘angels’ enough. There is a special place in heaven for them. I am so grateful that you suffered no pain. Your passage from this world into the next was peaceful and dignified. I feel privileged that I was able to be there with you.

Rest in peace, Mum. I love you ❤️

Last week was not good. I became very stressed, more so than usual! However, waking up on Monday morning didn’t feel any different to any other Monday morning.

I had set the alarm for my early ‘Bodypump’ class. Children weren’t at school so my drive to the gym was effortless. I managed to run for fifteen minutes on the treadmill without wanting to tear my hair out from boredom! So this was a good start to a Monday.

The weather behaved long enough for my husband and I to have a three kilometre walk before lunch. My Fitbit was showing an impressive amount of steps! I had made him happy!

Monday began to deteriorate when I visited my mother. She was not looking well, very pasty and hadn’t taken any food or little liquid by late afternoon. I was given a glass of her energy drink and persevered for the next hour. My mother remains very stubborn. The care home have been told by her doctor not to ‘force feed’ her. They couldn’t even if they tried. There is no way my mother can be coaxed into taking either food or drink if she doesn’t want it!

I report back to my brother and sister every day. Monday’s text was not good. To make matters worse, my mother kept on looking at me with a strange expression on her face, as if she was trying to ask me something. It was also the afternoon that the senior carer told me that my mother’s skin had begun to break down and she had a bedsore.

Monday evening I had booked a visit to an osteopath as I was having problems with my right arm. This was annoying and, even though I had ignored it and carried on with my exercise routines, it wasn’t getting better. I rested it over weekends but the discomfort remained the same so decided that rest wasn’t the cure either!

It was pouring with rain and there wasn’t any parking at the surgery so I was stressed by the time I rang the doorbell a couple of minutes late. The session was not restful or calming as the osteopath found other problems with my body! I went in with a sore arm. I came out with a sore arm, back and neck!

That evening, after a relaxing bath, I decided to take my blood pressure. I am now on medication and have been told to take a blood pressure reading once a month. I should not have chosen that night! My blood pressure should have been at its lowest but it was way above normal and continued to climb steadily the next day! I do a really good panic! I have an irrational fear of taking my blood pressure! It reaches concerning levels at the doctor’s surgery and this is called ‘white coat syndrome’. I have the same panic buildup at home when I think about taking it myself! I’m not sure what that is called. Neurotic? Irrational? Paranoid? All of these!

Finally common sense prevailed and I took my blood pressure again a few days later and it was normal. But that didn’t help the week to improve. Wednesday I had to take the exercise class at the care home as my friend had visitors. I got up early to go through some of my trusted routines and plan the music. I’m not a natural teacher but don’t want to cancel as I know the residents really enjoy these classes. I usually drive home feeling relieved that the class is over, but also pleased with myself that I had made the effort. But I do find these solo classes stressful!

It has rained for weeks! On Thursday I just managed the dance and step class at the gym as my only source of exercise and spent the afternoon visiting my mother. This was another worrying day and I sent a text to my brother to ask if he could pay a visit. I really needed a bit of support and another perspective on my mother’s regression. Unfortunately he was busy until the end of next week.

So I had to sort myself out. I’m my worst critic and heap blame on myself at the drop of a hat! I over analyse situations and beat myself up whenever life’s curve balls land on my front lawn! It’s always my fault!

I rang my son in Boston on Friday night. I needed to hear the voice of reason. He didn’t fail me! ‘Take time out for yourself, Mum. When last have you done something for you?’ That has always smacked of self indulgence when I hear friends pampering themselves in spas and fancy retreats! He went on to give examples and left me feeling much better and even beginning to buy into the idea.

On Saturday morning I had a long conversation with my daughter who regularly tells me to ‘love myself’. Another wonderful breath of fresh air and she agreed with her brother. I needed to take some time out and do something I enjoy.

So, over the weekend I charged up my laptop that had gathered dust at the back of my dressing table. Oops! Shouldn’t have shared that … and started typing one of my unpublished novels also collecting dust at the top of my cupboard. I was taken back over thirty years when I had spent some time at home and researched the siege of Kimberley. I felt relaxed and contented for the first time in ages. I have seventeen chapters so will try and type a chapter a day. No pressure but spending time on myself. I promise not to feel guilty …👠

My mother is in a care home. She has been there for almost five years. She is battling end stage dementia. I find it hard to put into words how difficult these last few weeks have been. On Christmas Eve I was told that, at best, she had a couple of weeks left.

But Mum is still with us and soldiers on. She hardly eats anything but still takes sips of energy drinks throughout the day. I visit her, either in the morning or the afternoon. Because I have been spending so much time at the care home and because Mum has very limited conversational skills it has allowed me the opportunity to get to know the carers and some of the residents. So many residents don’t receive any visitors or, if they are lucky, once or twice a year! This I find abominable and inexcusable! It’s like leaving your close relative (could be parent or grandparent!) to the mercy of strangers and turning your back on them!

I say this because, even though a lot of research might have gone into choosing the ‘best’ care home if funding is available, without periodic checks, a residential home does not offer ’round the clock’ care and ‘needs’ can be missed or overlooked. This is not a criticism of any care home nor any carer, some of whom work tirelessly with insufficient remuneration! This is a sad fact of life!

There are also those who take a step back and leave the visits to one relative, offering minimal support when these visits are often stressful and upsetting. There are also relatives who live in other countries but their support can be given in the form of communication, telephone calls, emails etc. Sometimes just to talk to a close family member or know that they are thinking of you is enough to face the next visit!

So I spend time with some of the residents as well as my mother. I am generous with my hugs and listen to their complaints, concerns and often quite far fetched ‘ramblings’! Depending on their stage of dementia I can’t always understand them but I try to show sympathy or comment when appropriate! I’m not qualified in dealing with dementia but maybe ‘qualified by experience’ counts for something! It is heartbreaking watching some of these poor people and my heart goes out to them as they battle this cruel, wicked disease with no support from family or loved ones!

But I have also been humbled by the care offered by some of the staff. Their patience and kindness shows no bounds. These born carers treat their ‘charges’ with such respect and dignity. A care home is often where humanity begins and ends. This final stage in the battle against what is fast becoming an epidemic, can be hard enough to cope with and comprehend. Performing daily, often embarrassing functions without sympathetic support just doesn’t bear thinking about!

The residents I ‘visit’ come from all walks of life. There are teachers, scientists, authors, doctors, bomber pilots, to name but a few. They were pillars of our society and have been instrumental in paving the way for future generations to enjoy life without world wars or extreme poverty! They have helped and encouraged their children, grandchildren, pupils, patients, to lead fulfilled, happy lives. Yet these same pillars of the community now cry out for help but are so often neglected, ignored and forgotten.

Thank heavens for these ‘angels’ who have chosen this profession of care and who we trust to look after our loved ones. I have watched, while trying to coax my mother to take a drink, the respect they show a blind, deaf man who often becomes confused and cries out for help. I have seen how they take a woman in their arms as she sobs pitifully that her children are at home alone and she needs to get a taxi to feed them. I have seen the way they diffuse an incident when they open a door to a visitor and a few of the residents are waiting with their handbags and jackets, insisting on going home.

Of course not all careers show exemplary behaviour but a number working at my mother’s care home do. This is a comfort because I can’t be with her twenty four hours a day. But I have had to question incidents and have also lodged a few complaints. There have been management changes and most of my concerns have been due to lack of communication.

Life isn’t perfect and neither are care homes. To date my mother’s care, overall, has been fully acceptable. She was a character when she first arrived and could be very ‘feisty’! This has earned her a certain reputation. Being a published author has also allowed her a certain amount of respect. However, seeing her sitting quietly in her chair, showing little interest in her surroundings, dozing in between taking sips of liquid, is heartbreaking. Mum lived life to the full, was an eternal optimist and loved the start of each new, exiting week. Sometimes dwelling on the past has its pluses. The here and now for Mum is not how she would want anyone, especially her children, to remember her! 👠

We had to travel back to Leeds on Sunday and I was dreading the trip. The Met Office had issued an amber weather warning for wind and rain. Add spray on saturated roads and travelling conditions would be hazardous. Throw in Smart Motorways with reduced speed limits and I would never have chosen to travel. I would far rather have preferred sitting snug and warm watching a cowboy movie!

But, alas, life isn’t like that! We had to bite the bullet and hit the motorway, M56, M6, M62 before we headed off down minor roads. The ‘controller’ of Smart Motorways was having a laugh! We were warned about ‘debris on the road’, 40 mph! Then we were told about ‘obstacles on the road’ 40 mph! There followed an ‘incident in the road’ 40 mph! ‘Spray on the road’ told us to travel at 50 mph. ‘Beware flooding on the road’ soon followed. We saw and experienced nothing! A small puddle was the flood and there is always a problem with spray whenever it rains. We didn’t need a warning and would have kept our distance without one!

We finally arrive at the little village where my mother in law lives. A car had parked across the road! We were told that this was because the river had burst its banks and a house close by didn’t want cars splashing water into their property! So we had a further twenty minutes detour before we reached our destination! I didn’t realise home owners could take the law into their hands and stop traffic driving past their houses!

When I lived in South Africa we knew that we lived in a country which had extreme weather! We’d have drought with blazing hot summers and I remember going to church to pray for rain. Floods often followed and I have had a near death experience when sluice gates were opened without warning. Our car was halfway across a bridge when we heard a roar and saw a wave of water rushing towards us. My daughter was a few months old and I had her lying in my arms, sitting in the passenger seat. Child car seats hadn’t been invented forty odd years ago!

We should never have crossed the bridge in the first place because the water was far too high but the driver thought he was infallible! The car cut out and I closed my eyes as I leaned forward in the vain hope of protecting my child. What seemed like an age the car burst into life again and we managed to get to the other side split seconds before the deluge struck. The noise was deafening. ‘Knew we’d make it’ the idiotic driver smirked. ‘The devil looks after his own’ came my furious reply!

Not living in the north of Scotland, on a river bank or a flood plane , the U.K. weather is rarely a concern for us. When I worked and had to leave early in the morning I have had problems digging my car out of the snow and gritting and scraping the hill outside our house. But that was not a regular occurrence and soon forgotten. Only once in the eighteen years I have lived in this house have I seen destructive gusts of wind. Driving home one evening I watched in horror as a wooden shed uprooted and landed a few feet from my car. Only once have I not been able to get home from work because of snow but my parents had lived close by so could park my car in their driveway and walk home.

So I am grateful that Storm Ciara has not been more than a nuisance and the dire weather warnings have not caused us anything other than a slow trip to Leeds. I know others have not be so lucky and hope that there is no loss of life or any severe flooding. The Australian fires have been horrendous and when I see the devastation caused by hurricanes and brutal storms around the world I am very grateful that I live in a secluded part of England. We do have many grey, wet days and sometimes summer has passed us by, but it could be far worse! My grass is not greener on the other side! 👠

Our drive to Leeds this weekend was different. We didn’t have to pass any asinine comments about ridiculous ‘Smart Motorways’ because none seemed to be working! I’m not sure what instructions are given to people who remotely control them. They cannot possibly be aware of the bottlenecks and chaos they cause when speed limits are introduced for traffic that is flowing smoothly! Apparently there have been a number of deaths as the hard shoulder becomes a normal traffic lane. Breakdowns have nowhere to pull over and wait for assistance. Surely this must have been discussed when the powers that be made the decision to introduce this ridiculous system!

So our trip to Leeds was a pleasure! We arrived stress free and ready to take my mother in law shopping in Wetherby. I had spent an hour with my mother in the morning. She had not eaten but had taken a few sips of tea. There was no recognition when I arrived and she refused her energy drink. There was little one sided conversation before my mother closed her eyes and nodded off, ignoring my gentle coaxing.

So different to my mother in law who is still as bright as a button and very up to date with current and world affairs. She reads her newspaper every day, leads a busy social life and, despite being physically slightly frail, soldiers on with fortitude and a good sense of humour! My mother was physically fit and mobile until the last few months when dementia has taken a firm hold and she is now in the end stage of this evil, debilitating, cruel disease.

But there are a few evil, debilitating, cruel diseases that remain incurable. My husband’s cousin has just passed away, aged sixty three, from Huntington’s Disease. So desperately sad and such a waste of a brilliant mind and a genuinely lovely person. Life can be so unfair! To add to this nightmare, their daughter has a fifty percentage chance of inheriting this gene and has to live with this awful sword of Damocles hanging over her! It’s like my sister, brother and I. We have dementia in our family from both my mother and my father so there is a very good chance that one or all of us have inherited this gene! I’m not taking the test! I’d rather hope that a cure is just around the corner and try to make the most of my life while I am still fit and well. Or I can curl up in a ball and wait for something awful to happen! I’ve made my choice!

We met my husband’s cousin for dinner and I was really impressed. She was so pragmatic and grateful to be out spending time with us. We don’t meet up often so had a lot to speak about and this, I hope, took her mind off her desperately sad loss. Her husband had been in a care home for a few years so she was used to living on her own. Certainly not an ideal situation but going home to an empty house had become the norm and not something to dread. A small mercy to be grateful for!

On Sunday we drove home via my daughter and her husband’s house. They are in the throes of major renovations but progressed enough for us to have a good idea of the end result! They are making their house a home and ensuring that they have everything they want and of the best quality so that they won’t have to change or renew anything for many years to come! Sensible and encouragement to get through the chaos! There is light at the end of their tunnel!

Another week has passed. We’re into February already. The snowdrops are out and I have filled my house with daffodils! The mornings and evenings are getting lighter and I’ve heard the woodpecker! Always heralding the start of Spring! I know it’s a bit early but the signs are out there and I’m going to run with them! 👠

I completed a few writing courses when I lived in South Africa and started one when I arrived in England almost thirty years ago. My aim had always been to write novels and my working career was purely monetary. I was determined never to be old and poor so working towards a good pension started in earnest in my thirties.

To get over writer’s block all the advice was the same. Just sit down with a pen and paper and start writing – anything that came into your head! That shows how long ago I did my courses. Today it would probably advise logging onto your laptop, iPad or phone and start typing. And this is what I am doing on a dank, ‘mizzling’, grey Sunday afternoon.

Sundays have always been my days off for as long as I can remember. My ideal Sunday starts with the newspapers and breakfast in bed. A few coffee refills and marmalade toast with a good mix of reading matter keeps my husband and I busy for hours. Still sticking to my ideal Sunday, we have a light lunch and then go for a long walk. Alas, always weather permitting and during an English winter this is even less likely than the summer.

Today could be an ideal Sunday if the weather improves, but there is a problem. My poor mother. She is battling end stage dementia and I now visit her every day. Because she has stopped eating the carers and I try to get her to take two glasses of an energy drink made into a milkshake with cream and full cream milk to replace her meals. This equates to about one thousand calories per glass which keeps her strength up and avoids the debilitating pain associated with the shutting down of her organs. I know this is short term but while Mum is still taking fluids, this is the best we can do for her.

Unfortunately yesterday was not good. My mother refused to drink anything for the two and a half hours I was there. I tried every ploy to coax her! I decant the contents of the heavy glass mug into a light plastic cup. This usually works because my mother is still able to hold it which is easier to manage. However, yesterday this routine didn’t work. I also tried a small measuring cup and went back to the days when my two children were babies. I felt so desperate that I was waving my arms around like an aeroplane and ensuring Mum that the drink was delicious! ‘Mmmmmm!’ I told her, licking my lips. ‘This juice tastes amazing! All this did was produce a rare logical comment when she told me ‘No! Put that down!’

So I gave up, feeling very despondent and useless! I decided to skip the Sunday visit because I felt so stressed and leave her in the hands of her carers. I know they will persevere, but maybe not for as long as I do! I really do need a break but I feel so guilty!

After lunch today I rang the care home. My mother hadn’t eaten anything, which was not surprising, but they were managing to get her to sip her energy drink throughout the day. She was gradually getting her calories, vitamins and minerals despite me not being there. She had finished one glass and started the second.

So I went for a walk and felt a lot better. The weather had improved to the point where pockets of blue sky peeped through the grey clouds and the drizzle had stopped. I couldn’t waste this opportunity to ‘make hay while the sun shone’. My husband and I donned our wellies and ventured through the mud and pools of lying water down Wood Lane at the bottom of our garden. There is a moderate three kilometre walk we often do before lunch so chose this in case the weather reverted back to type!

Another phone call to the care home has made me feel more comfortable as Mum was quietly nodding off in her chair, stress free and not in any pain or discomfort. Being able to enjoy this Sunday has helped me prepare myself for tomorrow and a new week. Maybe yesterday was just a ‘bad day’ for Mum. We all have them! Tomorrow will be better. I’m looking at my glass half full …….👠

I try to get up earlier than my husband every morning. Having said that, it’s not hard! My husband could sleep for two people! If I didn’t wake him up at around ‘nine-ish’ he’d probably spend the morning in bed! Oh to be so relaxed and able to turn off completely for hours on end! I’m jealous ……

However, getting up relatively early every morning allows me to have time to prepare for the coming day. This sounds as if I have a high-powered job and need to organise my time. I’m a Lady of Leisure (LOL) so there is another reason. I need to have a plan. I can’t just wake up and think, without stress or panic, that I have a whole day ahead with nothing to fill it! That was always my biggest fear as my working years sped by and I had to address the R’ word! (Retirement for those who aren’t as paranoid as me!)

So my morning quiet times are important. I start my day with a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. There’s a hint of routine there but a bit of routine isn’t a bad thing? I watch two morning television news programmes. The BBC, which I find a bit tedious at times and also biased, is a good news channel. ITV is more fun and varied but the advertisements annoy me, so I flip. I do like keeping up with the news. Some people really aren’t bothered, but I need to know what is happening in this big, sometimes bad, world outside my front door!

But I watch the news with one eye and do other things with the other! I complete a daily diary. I use it as a reminder (never my iPhone!) of events and appointments and also an actual diary completed the next day, retrospectively. I have kept one since 1985. Not updated every day like I do now, but still a good record of my life over the last thirty odd years. Because time flies I use these diaries to confirm dates and times of past events as documented proof when questioned! This does happen!

There is another important reason why I have my diary with me every morning. I plan my day. Sometimes loosely but I always have a good idea of how the day will unfold. I also check the day and the date! Important when I don’t have to work because days can morph into weeks and weekdays morph into weekends far too easily! I also try to keep weekdays as my exercise and chore days and weekends I still hold dear and try to keep for fun! At weekends I allow myself wine with my evening meals (and gin and tonics as evening treats!). Sounds a bit OCD but this discipline suits me. By having a bit of a routine and a daily ‘plan’ has helped me cope with this next daunting LOL stage!

I check my emails, sometimes look at Facebook (just nosey and rarely comment, never post) then go through the News app just in case the BBC or ITV have missed anything! Then I think about my blog and start to plan the next one.

So, my quiet times serve a very useful” purpose. I enjoy the solitude and even, can you believe, enjoy spending time in my own company! I didn’t think this would ever happen! These two hours (more or less) have become almost a ritual and missed when life doesn’t go according to plan. Coping mechanisms come in all shapes and sizes. My husband carries on sleeping until he gets woken up with breakfast in bed (this is best not shared!) and the newspaper so he has his ‘me time’ as well. It’s a win win! 👠

On Monday I woke up with an uncomfortable sensation in my throat. I ignored it and carried on as usual, going to circuit training and then on to a talk about chutney. This doesn’t sound very interesting but the woman giving the demonstration was hilarious! She had us in fits of laughter and didn’t even need to show us how to make plum chutney in the hour it took her to chop up onions, garlic and mountains of fruit!

Tuesday morning I awoke feeling as if my throat had been slashed! I had apparently snored through the night! Not likely! I don’t snore! My husband does! I went downstairs and had a coffee before sucking on a lozenge. I was going to yoga come what may so needed to just get on with it! The weather looked awful! It was pouring with rain which showed no sign of abating! The wood at the bottom of our garden was barely visible. A few black leafless trees stood guard at the perimeter as dense fog crept ever closer. Within seconds the trees had vanished and our garden had also became engulfed. A shiver crept up my spine. My head had begun to throb and I felt claustrophobic, caught in a bubble with no means of escape!

Rather melodramatic, but, feeling pathetic and very sorry for myself, my imagination had taken wings! I went into the television room and turned on the news. I’m not sure why as it’s not something anyone would do to feel uplifted! So I wallowed in self pity, staring outside at nothing! Just a grey swirling mass of absolutely nothing! The throbbing in my head had intensified and I had begun to cough, a croaking, rasping sound. I closed my eyes. I didn’t know when last I had felt so ill! A thought flashed through my mind. I’d had the flu jab so it couldn’t be flu! But what if, heaven forbid, I had Man Flu!

That was my epiphany! No way was I going to continue in this vein! I turned off the television and stood up, too quickly because the floor shot up to meet me! But I soldiered on! I cleaned the bathrooms and washed the kitchen floor! This was probably the martyr in me but it gave me a strange sense of achievement before I once more collapsed into a miserable, shaking pile of jelly!

Alas, I didn’t make it to the yoga class. Carrying my heavy bag up the hill in the pouring rain and fighting my way through the dense fog was not going to happen! I cannot lie. I succumbed to the dreaded ‘lurgi’. I curled up in front of the television and watched a John Wayne cowboy movie, a warm blanket wrapped around my aching body! There are many strains of flu. The strains of flu in this year’s batch of flu jabs must have missed this one! And, just to be clear, it certainly wasn’t Man Flu ……… trust me👠

Holidays long gone! Christmas and New Year over and we’re into January! The weather is not good and neither am I! And I can’t understand what is causing this malaise!

I woke up on Monday morning, opened the curtains and looked out at a dark grey sky. My mood plummeted and I turned to go back to bed. The alarm clock showed 8:00 am. I really couldn’t justify that! My husband always wakes up after me so he was quietly snoring and oblivious to my dilemma. I closed the curtains and felt my way downstairs, counting thirteen steps so that I didn’t break my neck falling down them!

I needed to shake off this depression! Life could be a lot worse! A close relative had been really ill this time last year and he was doing well! Be grateful! I didn’t have to get up early every morning and fight traffic to get to work! Be grateful for that! My husband was fit and well and I was doing okay for a woman of my ‘advanced’ age! That was a bonus too!

But then I thought about my mother fighting end stage dementia and this was probably the underlying cause. I always knew that this time would come but, when I was shown a report from her doctor on Christmas Eve, it came as a shock! I visit her every day and try to encourage her to drink a glass of complan as she is not eating. Initially I was told that Mum had at most a couple of weeks to live, but she has plateaued and this stage could last indefinitely. No matter how hard I try it is very upsetting to see my mother sitting immobile in a chair, nodding off occasionally, with little or no interest in her surroundings. She hasn’t recognised me for a while. So sad. But Mum is not in any pain or discomfort. I must be grateful for this!

I’m not sure how long the carers spend trying to coax her to take fluids so feel that my daily visits are important. Seeing a loved one in a care home can be stressful even if they are doing well under the circumstances. It’s looking around at the other residents in varying stages of the disease that I find the most disconcerting. Seeing the downhill spiral and wondering if or when your parent or spouse will eventually reach that next stage is not great!

But there is nothing I can do to change this situation and need to just crack on with it! My mother was always a ‘glass half full’ person. When I was worried about something (often!) she’d tell me that, if I could change or fix it, then change or fix it! If I couldn’t, accept it and find a workaround! Sometimes a lot easier said than done! So Mum, I am in a situation that I can’t change or fix! I’m struggling to find a workaround! The best I can hope for is to somehow ring-fence my time with you and carry on living my life as normally as possible! Easier said than done! 👠