Taking Care of Me

Watching motorbike videos from South America.

I guess it was inevitable that the minute I slowed down I would get sick!  Over three weeks of  coughing, aches and pains, horrific sore throat, congestion, lethargy, to name some of the symptoms.   Though maybe I am not so special as it seems that it has struck down a few. To my horror, I have developed the family seal bark... yes, you know the one... can be heard half a mile a way - BARK BARK!  Anytime I laugh it descends into the sounds of a seal at play in the sea.  It is quite attractive.  As a result, I hadn't been to visit dad in over a week; I figured they probably have enough cases on their hands without adding to it!  (Hmmm... this paragraph reminds me of something mom used to say to me - "Do you think maybe you worry about yourself too much?")
So it was my brother who went off to check up on the adventures of our dad on Saturday.  I received a text from him saying the nurses had informed him that dad had been taking a few steps around that day, and was then sitting in a regular chair in the amenities room.  Whaaat!?  I don't show up for a few days and he's off!

The next day both of us went to visit.  As is custom, we peeked into his room first.  Not seeing him in his bed, we went to search out the amenity room.  No where to be spotted there, either.  One of the aides called out that he was in his room.  Back to his room we went, only to find him sitting in the dark on his walker; a rather sheepish look on his face.  Clearly he had been in bed, woke up, got up and found his way to the walker where he was sitting.  Confused, my brother asked him how he got to the walker.  He replied, "If you'd been here 3 minutes sooner you would have found out."
<giggle>
L then asked, "Did you see me poke my head in earlier?"
"Yes," he replied.
It was all too much for me and I burst into laughter (which promptly declined into wild animal yelps).  Dad sat there with the goofiest grin on his face!  What more can I say?

Never a dull moment at the care home, to be sure.  I now see why people work with the elderly.  Nonstop entertainment!  (I am sure caring for someone might factor in as well!)  I ran into my friend, coming onto the elevator.  (The one who told me in one breath that I was pretty, and in the next professed that she couldn't see!)  I exclaimed, "Hello!  How are you today?"
She gave me her standard amused/confused look and grumped, "I wouldn't know."
Her daughter was helping her into the elevator right then and she burst into laughter.  I know the feeling!

Father's Day

Dad doesn't have any grandchildren... don't look at me, I'm not taking all the blame!  He does have a couple of cuties who come to visit once in a while!!!

Cough, cough, sniff, hack, hack... it's the Symphony of Sydney Winter. (Though with lows of 9C and highs of 19C, it sounds much like Vancouver's June.) Everywhere you go right now, in the store, on the street, in the bus, you hear the sounds of people battling a cold. I have had one for over two weeks now, my brother has had one for over three. Other people seem to be dealing with the same symptoms... just when you think it's over, the throat flares up again, or the nose starts dripping like a faucet. You just want it to be over and feeling well again. Then I thought of people like dad, who are saddled with illness, with no break. I cannot imagine what that is like.  I asked dad the other week how he was doing, and he said, "What do you think?" Suddenly, struggling with the common cold seems, well, common.

There are times when dad is very much aware of the effects of his disease.  One day he said to me, "So, this is what it's about?  Sitting around?  It's a bit boring."  Other days he doesn't seem to mind being "retired"...  I went to see him the other day... he was so sleepy he couldn't even communicate a word to me. I am having a hard time believing how far his disease has come in the past year. This time a year ago, he was still living on his own, albeit with growing assistance. Now he needs assistance for everything.

I often recall a long phone conversation I had with him about this time last year.  Looking back, I realize it would be one of the the last conversations I had with him. His speech was failing him before his fall last September, and the fall was the last straw.  Now dad, like most dads, didn't have much time for talking on the phone. That time, however, I spoke to him for over an hour... just about his situation, my situation.  I have just realized that while I have been missing my mom, I have also been missing dad as well. I was always "daddy's girl"... and for good reason.  He was always grounded, perceptive, intelligent. I could always count on his opinion to be the right one, no matter how much I disliked it.  Ha... no doubt many a teen aged argument stemmed from this!

I recall being little, waking up with worries and searching out mom. One look at my face and she would tell me to go find my dad. There was one particular time in high school when I was going through a particular worrisome patch... dad was steady and calm in listening to my fears, and alleviated them for me.

I leaned on that steadiness my whole life... so perhaps that explains my hysteria throughout this whole experience. I have lost the stability I relied on my whole life.... when I needed it the most. I guess that means it is time to grow up... and learn from the example I was given.
Mom passed on a story just before she passed away... that when they would walk down the street, dad would always walk on the street side of the road and she would walk on the inside. She said he was a gentleman in that regard... and made her feel cherished and protected.

In writing this, I have just clued in that it is coming up Father's Day in North America on June 17.  It is not Father's Day in Australia until September.  So it feels an appropriate time to remember the fathers in our lives.  If we have been fortunate enough to have such a figure in our lives... a steady, sensible, stable influence.  The men who rise each morning, week in, year out to provide for their families.  Who work hard, and take on the constant stress of mortgages, rents, bills, food, clothing, transport, education. Who not only provide, but guide and encourage, and if they have anything left over after all that... entertain!  And without too much complaint, I may add.  Dad worked as a labourer his whole life... putting his body and soul into it.  Correct me if I am wrong, but I do not recall him complaining about his lot in life.  He may have been tired or frustrated with the job at hand... but he never complained about having a family to provide for.

These words feel a bit trivial in light of what has been given to us.  That is what Father's Day is all about, I guess... an acknowledgement of the sacrifice and love given to families by fathers.  If we were one of the lucky ones.

10,000 Hits!!

This blog has just crossed over 10,000 hits!  If I didn't know better, I'd say it was just one little person, sitting on their basement computer, hitting the refresh key for want of something better to do!  But I do know better... so many have reached out to say they have been thinking of us and to share their best wishes.

What started as a place for me to share a bit of the struggle of what it is to have a family member suffer with Parkinson's Disease D (OK, and maybe have a bit of a vent) has morphed into an account of the decision to move to Australia, the setbacks prior to leaving, then the sheer volume of work of settling dad into a care home and wrapping up outstanding items. I laugh now at how I naively thought I'd have dad settled by the end of 2011 and then get back to living my life. Now, seven months in, I'm still not sorted out! Definitely the majority is behind me, but still quite a bit to go.

Looking back, I'm amazed by how things fell into place, as difficult as it has been. People often ask if dad was on a wait list very long for his care home. Indeed, that had always been a worry... to get dad settled in a chosen place in case the choice was take out of our hands. But the room was waiting for him in Rose Bay when we arrived, he went into it as respite and was able to remain there. In hindsight, it was a smooth transition, but at the time, the not-knowing was very much a worry. So I am truly thankful that that room was waiting for dad...

Once dad was settled into care, well... at least the paperwork was sorted out.  We were given six months to get the financials sorted out.  Next up was Canadian taxes, and organizing all that paperwork to send back to the Canadian accountant.  No rest for the wicked, as the very next day, we went into getting the house sold, and all the paperwork that went along with that.

Which brings us up to now.  Still left with transferring finances from Canada to Australia, which is turning out to be another headache.  Am shaking my head at the lack of professionalism from, well, professionals.  A common courtesy email to say that they are in my receipt of my request would be nice.  I have lost count of the number of times I have had to follow up on work I have sent out, only to find out nothing has been done... basically doubling my work load!  There I go, venting again!!

Our six month grace period with the care home will just about be here... so as frustrating as all of this is, I am thankful that the house did sell in the nick of time.  Seems like we'll be in just under the wire once again.  Ah well, wouldn't be the same without my old friend, Mr. Panic.

Hmmm... by the time I am finally finished sorting dad out... this blog will probably be up to 100,000 hits!!  Thanks again to everyone for your support and understanding... seems we are going to need it for just a while longer!!  ;) 

~ Donna ~