Taking Care of Me

Selfie with mom and dad at Vancouver airport when they were both 66 and I was half their age!!

I have been delaying in posting this story as I cannot find the right words for this last blog post.   It is hard to wrap up the emotions of the past five and a half years in a few paragraphs; I keep typing words and deleting them.  However, I must publish this and move forward!  Just know that words are not enough...

Have been back in Sydney for almost two weeks now I think I am recovered from jet lag!  I had a wonderful visit back to Vancouver.  When I left Sydney, I was still reeling from the loss of dad, plus the mounds of paperwork that unfolded in the aftermath.  Visiting Vancouver/Victoria/White Rock was a whirlwind, but I managed to wrap up dad’s affairs, visit friends and found the time for a few naps!  There is no place like Vancouver in the summertime... long days extending past 10pm, sunlight dappling through the leaves, the soft sounds of birds (a touch more peaceful that squawking cockatoos!), summer fruit; particularly blueberries and cherries.   One thing I noticed about Vancouver this trip is that everyone loves a patio; whether it be Cactus Club, Milestones or the backyard!  Was great to catch up with everyone on various patios, including overlooking Victoria harbour, Vancouver harbour and even the parking lot at South Point!  I feel blessed by the love and care that was extended to me during my trip, turning what started out feeling like a business trip to a magical interlude.

While visiting my old hometown, I had noticed that the question had changed from “How’s your dad?” to “What are your plans?”  There is nothing very dramatic in the works, I’m afraid!  I plan to finish school, work and travel!  I think (hope!) all the drama is behind me!

Parallel to losing mom and taking care of dad, I realised my post secondary drafting education had reached its maximum potential.  I needed to continue my education, which is what I had planned when I finished my drafting diploma back in the day, but easier said than done.  One of the reasons for moving to Sydney (besides moving dad moving to see his family) was for its design and arts culture.  I briefly considered New York  or Toronto (like I said, briefly!), but Sydney made the most sense because of my citizenship.  Prior to leaving BC, I had researched interior design courses, but nothing eventuated.  Once in Sydney, with dad settled, it worked out for me to take an introductory colour course.  That led to a fast-paced bridging course over Christmas 2012 and into a styling course last year. The opportunity arose to study interior design this year, and with dad not being well and needing to be close to him, I made the decision to continue studying.  (Only three months to go, not that I have started the countdown or anything!  I love learning, but it means that life gets put on the back burner while you work on assignments.)

I had no idea this new career path would allow me to carry special memories of both mom and dad. In the middle of my styling course last year, we were studying soft furnishings and furniture placement.  It reminded me of how mom made a home for us.  Oftentimes we would come home to from school to find the vacuum tossed out across the floor and mom moving furniture around.  She spoiled us with ironed sheets (“They stack better in the cupboard”, was her reasoning when we teased her about it.) and perfectly folded towels.   (While I do not exactly iron my sheets, I will say that it is a simple luxury to have ironed pillowcases!) Memories of dad, too, came flooding back.  I recall sitting in his work truck; the scent of metal, sawdust and oil in the air; drinking the grounds of Thermos coffee (Disgusting!  But if dad drank it, then it must be cool!) and flipping through the fan deck of paint chips.  The interior of our house on Summerhill Crescent was painted entirely in Banana Split.  Hey, it was the 80s, after all!  I am thankful for what they taught me about  attention to detail and taking pride in your work.

A heartfelt thank you to all for following along with our story; for your support and compassion.  May we continue to remember those who struggle with Parkinson's, and other crippling illnesses and diseases.  Most of all, thank you to mom and dad for the love and care they blessed us children with; we continue to feel their influence in our lives.

If you would like to stay in touch, my email is donnavercoe1@gmail.com and most days you can find me on Instagram: donnavercoe

Sincerely,

Donna

Taking Care of Business

Sussex House... mom and dad's last apartment.  (Side note: the Vercoe name ventures back to Sussex, England)

Where does the time go?!  I cannot believe it is three months this week since dad passed away.  I've been back in Vancouver/White Rock, taking care of dad's affairs. Catching up with friends, it feels like no time has passed... but in fact it has been 2 1/2 years since we left. 'It seems like it was yesterday,' has been the refrain this whole trip. Another reminder to not put off till tomorrow, what you can do today.

I took a stroll through White Rock last week, and didn't realise till I was on the move that I was walking past all the old hang outs with dad.  The hospital where he spent the last 6 weeks before we moved, the emergency room where we spent many long hours for various ailments, the store where we picked out his walker (joking that it wasn't quite as much fun as picking out a car), the notary public's office; where I signed the paperwork for the power of attorney and estate executor that got me into this position in the first place! There was the rolling sidewalk down the hill to his front door, where I constantly reminded him to take it slow, as his gait threatened to take over and he'd have a spill. (Which did eventuate, hence one of the trips to the emergency room for a busted nose.). So many memories.... plus the memories of mom. The garden out the front of their place is somewhat overgrown now. Mom would have had a say in tending to those plants.

With these sad reminders of all that dad suffered with in those last years, though I miss his smile and wave, I am thankful he no longer has to struggle with that disease. We laid dad to rest last week with mom, and it is a comfort to know they are together again.

Collages

The Early Years

The Middle Years

The Latter Years

Eulogy

As per request, I have posted an edited version of the eulogy here to share with those who were unable to attend Monday's service.

Australian Native Flowers

Dad at Whistler (Loren)

Dad at White Rock Beach (Donna)

Norman Ernest Vercoe

 January 14, 1941 ~ April 30, 2014

We would like to thank you all for coming today.  Your love and support has encouraged us and touched our hearts.  I would like to extend a special thank you to the staff at Wentworth Manor at Rose Bay for their kindness and compassion in caring for dad.  While we worried about dad, we never worried about the care he received.  A “thank you” also to the competent staff at St Vincent’s hospital who gave dad excellent care whenever he was admitted there.

It was only last Monday that I was sitting at dad’s bedside, holding his hand.  He held on tight and wouldn’t let go.  At the time, I thought I was giving him comfort, but now I wonder if he wasn’t giving me the courage to go on.

Two days before she passed away suddenly I was in the kitchen with mom while she made Sunday lunch.  She said to me, “You should spend more time with your dad; he feels left out sometimes.”  Parkinson’s disease had made him quieter, and harder to communicate with.  Little did I know, two days later mom would be gone and for the next five years and five months dad and I would be strapped into a crazy roller coaster ride.  I lost count of the number of doctors and specialists we visited,  trips to ER, panicked phone calls, medication reminders and dashes to his side.  There were many moments of tears and frustration... mostly on my behalf.  Dad was gracious in the hand that was dealt to him.  I would hear him thanking the nursing staff for even the smallest of tasks they did for him.  Often they would say to me, “Your dad is such a lovely man.”  His kindness may have warmed their hearts, but his mischievousness kept them on their toes.

Norman Ernest Vercoe was predeceased by his loving wife, Ruth.  He is survived by his children, Donna, Loren and Dale and their partners Naomi and Joanna.  He was a brother to Evelyn (Fred), Ruth (Ron) and Colin (Julie). Uncle to Wayne, Michelle and Andrew, Rodney, Darren, Kim, Celeste and Jarrah and countless more family and friends in both Canada and Australia.

One of the greatest gifts parents can give their children is the gift of siblings.  I have been thinking of dad’s sisters and brother as they say goodbye to him today.  Am thankful for my own brothers; that we can lean on one another for love and support at this difficult time.

Dad was born on January 14, 1941 in Byron Bay, second child to to Elborough and Irene Vercoe.  He grew up in the Drake area, and then went to high school in Lismore. Following  study with PMG at 15, he moved to Sydney where he studied to be a telephone technician.  There he boarded with Ted and Jean Maxwell; sharing a room with Ross where they honed their skills with nightly chess championships. Stories from this period of dad’s life paint picture of a young scallywag who made friends easily.

With plenty of time to think working as a technician in rural New South Wales, dad initiated the Vercoe travel bug, and set off on a world trip with David Maxwell in 1964.  Starting in New Zealand, they explored Fiji before moving on to the US and Canada.  David was waylaid in Vancouver with a Canadian girl while dad continued on touring the US on his $99 for 99 days Greyhound ticket.  He had reached southern California when he received a request to return to Vancouver to be the best man at David’s wedding.  It was at this time, that dad officially met mom and sparks flew!  They had their first date on December 6, 1965 and ever the romantic, dad asked her to marry him on December 6 the following year.  Dad proposed at The Royal Towers in New Westminster with a watch.  Mom said yes, but had to dash to the washroom where the light was brighter so she could get a better look at her gold Omega watch.  They were married May 19, 1967 in Salmon Arm and settled in Vancouver for three years where dad worked as a telephone technician for BC Tel.  Following the death of his mother, dad was moved to return to Australia.   

In Sydney, dad determined that he wasn’t cut out for office life.  Frank Wehrle taught him construction, and dad forged ahead building houses.  The redhead trilogy began when I was born in Sydney in 1973.  Wanderlust hit again and dad and mom drove a six month old me around Australia before setting in the Surfers Paradise area in 1974.  A second "ranga" was added to the family at the end of the year; who goes by the name of Loren.    For the five years we lived in Queensland, dad worked on building a family home and owned a business building fifth wheel caravans. 

Meanwhile, in Canada, mom’s mom was having issues with her heart.  They made the decision to return to Canada to be closer to grandma.  They weren’t there long before the third, and no longer surprising, redhead made his appearance. Dale was born in August  1979.  After all this moving about... mom and dad settled in to life in White Rock, BC to raise us three children.  Dad worked as a carpenter, literally putting a roof over our heads: building several homes for our family and many more for other people in the area.   On April 29, 1996, dad was marking out the plumb line for a wall.  As he walked backwards, he fell 11 feet through the opening for a stairwell; he hit his head and landed on compact sand on the floor below.  After laying there for a while, he called mom to tell her he had had an accident and that he was going to just rest there a while and wait for it to pass.  His “resting a while” turned into several months of hospitalisation and rehabilitation.  In hindsight, we suspect that this could have been the onset of Parkinson’s disease.

Dad continued on with building following his accident.  When his body wouldn’t let him physically build anymore, a colleague of his stepped in and got dad a job as a plan checker.  He respected dad so much that he went out of his way to drive dad to and from work.  Mom was always thankful that dad had the opportunity to work as long as he could, to maintain some normalcy in his life.  Or maybe it was because it got him out of the house!  By the beginning of 2007 though, he had had a couple of stumbles on the job site, and retired from building.

Dale reminded us that dad would come home from work most days with a smile and a greeting, “Hidey-hodey every-body.”  From Dale’s experience as a carpenter, it is near impossible to be that positive every day.   Dad’s level of relaxation could be measured by the distance of the newspaper from his face.  He didn’t need much in life... just the daily newspaper, his brown chair, mom’s baking and a dollop of whipped cream.   A lover of dessert until the end, he would often test mom’s patience by sitting at the table after a full main course asking, “Are we sitting here in vain?”

As a single female, discussions would often roll around to why I was still single. Dad would pipe up say, “That's because she’s trying to find one as good as her dad”.  He'd have a little grin on his face while we all groaned at him.” Certainly, almost three years have passed since my last long conversation with him. Not one for talking on the phone, he ended up talking to me for over an hour.   All my life, I would go to dad with my worries and concerns.  He would patiently listen, empathise, and offer reason and support.  I will always cherish that conversation for dad’s love and understanding of my situation.

Dad always said “A job worth doing, is a job worth doing well.” This was evidenced in his craftsmanship, his relationship with others and his role as a husband and father.  We are so thankful for his faith and values which we will carry in our hearts as we continue our own path, though we shall miss him dearly.

Service for Norman

We will be having the service for dad on Monday.  If you would like details, please email me at donnavercoe1@gmail.com

Farewell

Very sad to write and let you know that dad passed away peacefully in the early hours of this morning.  We are so sad that he's gone, but thankful that he has been released from the lengthy struggle with Parkinson's disease.  Thank you to everyone for your messages of love, comfort and support.  I will post more soon...

The Hardest Post

For once, I am at a loss for words.  With all the posts I have written, I never imagined myself writing this one.  Dad's condition has deteriorated since the last time I posted.  Indeed, on Sunday night, he wasn't interested much in eating.  We got the phone call Monday afternoon from the care home to say that dad wasn't interested in eating, drinking or taking his medication.  On top of that, he had a slight fever.  When I saw him Monday afternoon, I couldn't believe it was the same dad who had been sitting up, eating some meat, potatoes and three scoops of ice cream a couple of nights prior.  He was exhausted and sleeping. In the past, he has rallied, and pulled through.  This time, we know it is different... they are doing all they can to keep him comfortable.  I will post more when I can.

Sadness

July 2001

Last night my brother returned my stock pots and left them at the front entrance.  As I was taking my shoes off, I noticed that they were blocking the route to the door.  I had the thought that I should move them as they blocked access in case of fire.  At that moment, a great wave of sadness washed over me, as I realised that was a thought that dad had drilled into my head, and he no longer understands to look out for me.  Wherever I lived, he always worried about an escape route in case of a fire and I would have to explain my plan to him.  He always made sure I understood not to leave candles burning, or electrical appliances on when I left the house.  (Perhaps he was slightly paranoid, but I think he came across some fire cases when he was a builder and knew how easily something could happen.)  He also reminded me to drive with extra caution in the rain after a dry spell as the roads could be slick.  Or inquired after the oil levels in my car... because he knew it wasn't high on my levels of interest.  All those things a dad looks out for for his children... now I will just have to listen to the words of advice he has imprinted on my brain.

There has been a shift in dad's condition.  He had been slowing down a bit... and at the beginning of last week I noticed a significant change.  By the end of that week, he was sleeping most of the time and very difficult to arouse.  Upon inquiry, I was informed that he had been put on a patch for pain management.  Indeed, when I spoke to him last Saturday night when he finally woke up, he managed to explain that he had pain in his spine and hips.  He has had the back pain since he had the accident on the job site back in April 1996... with the combination of osteoarthritis and sitting all day, the pain must be continuous.

I have been trying to see him most days now.  If I miss a day, I am slightly worried over what I have missed.  When I do visit now, there's a lump in my throat.  During yesterday's visit, he slept most of the time.  When he is awake, he is still taking in everything around him, and still smiling when he understands something funny.

And yes, I had to relocate the pots out of the way last night.  I am my father's daughter, after all.

Catching Up

Dad's balcony view

I have memories of dad heading off to work as a builder in the summer heat, large Thermos full of water and ice to keep him going all day.  When he came home, sweat and saw dust at his hairline, he would stand at the sink and down two glasses of water in a row until his thirst was quenched.  Years ago, he also took a Thermos of coffee every day. ( I recall it smelling good, so would help myself to a cupful if I was ever on the job site with him.  It was horrid, bitter stuff that had sat in the jug all day.  Adults raved about it, so I drank it thinking it was the cool thing to do!)  One day, dad quit coffee, cold turkey.  Never touched it again. After mom passed away, I think he had tea on possibly two occasions.  The point of my story is, water was dad’s drink of choice.  How good does a glass of water taste when you are thirsty.  So it breaks my heart a little to know he cannot drink water anymore.  Unless an additive is added to make it thicker.  See, the thing with this stupid rotten Parkinson’s disease it that it strips you of every last single pleasure in life.  I do not know the entire reason why, and to be sure, am slightly afraid of researching it.  The muscles start to degenerate... so the tongue, the throat, the jaw which all used in eating and drinking do not work like they used to.  Dad has been seen by a speech pathologist who has requested that he drink thickened fluids only.  If he does drink water, it can go down the wrong way, end up in his lungs and he can get an infection.  (Hence the fear a couple of weeks back that we may have required a visit to hospital for a round of antibiotics.)  Even after drinking thickened fluids, he can end up in a coughing fit.

I have been loath to write about dad’s condition as it is very private.  Guess this is the reality of the situation now, so no point in hiding it.  Dad has not been feeding himself for some time now, and requires assistance.  Usually the care aides at the home help him, and I do not make a special effort to be there with him.  I was there at dinnertime tonight to help him eat.  He doesn’t eat much, and I notice now that he is having more problems chewing.  While he’s currently eating regular food, I am quite sure that it is only a matter of time before that changes. 

I would like to spend more time with him.  Sadly life with all its responsibilities continues on.  This is why you are not meant to lose your parents until you are in your 60s and semi retired; not in your 30s and 40s which are meant to be your prime earning years for your retirement.  Is it any wonder I wake up at 3 and 4am most nights, worrying as to what is going to happen to us.

Still, the blessing in all of this is that he still remembers who we are.  I always get a smile when I show up!  Though I usually arrive with big waves and some sort of silly greeting... so is it any wonder!  I read a comment on Twitter the other day that mentioned people with dementia are good company.  I had never thought of it that way before, but that is exactly how it feels, visiting dad.  Today we sat out on his balcony, overlooking the back garden, and it was peaceful and relaxing.  This story is probably better left unsaid, but I need an injection of humour right about now.  My brother reminded me the other day of a silly saying dad used to say; “When you see me coming, you’d better step aside.  A lot of men didn’t and a lot of men died.”  When I quoted this back to him today, he had a little grin on his face.  Yep... the sense of humour is still there.

Conversations with dad bounce from subject to subject in one sentence.  Indeed, I usually cannot understand what he is saying.  One minute he was asking me about a lamp in the backyard, then next he mentioned something a barbeque.  When I asked him if it was a barbeque he wanted, he said yes, that would be nice.  As luck would have it... there is a yummy Portuguese chicken shop at the end of the street in Rose Bay.  Will have to make a stop there within the next few days.

Just Chilling

February in Sydney is a mixed bag of weather. It can be gorgeous and warm... but the minute there is a hint of rain in the air, the weather turns muggy. Wednesday started out as a perfect beach day. When I dropped by to see dad, the wind had picked up a bit. (Later on, the humidity I kicked in and the storm hit.)

I love that dad's location is close to home, the beaches and the shops. It makes it easy to pop by for a hello and a kiss. I won't lie and not say I have not been having several major pity parties for both him and myself.  In life, you just have to alter your course just a touch, to appreciate what you do have. I appreciate that I can stop by to see dad, and we can sit on the balcony; study the trees and listen to the birds.

I left dad snoozing in his chair on Wednesday.  I had moved his chair so that it overlooked the back courtyard.  A breeze was blowing through the open door and some jazz music was playing in the background. I thought to myself, 'That actually looks pretty good.'

Valentine's Day

Seeing the abundance of flowers around town today for Valentine's, brought back a sweet memory from years ago.  When I was quite young... dad snuck into my apartment and left me a bouquet of flowers for Valentine's.  It melted my heart then, and it melted my heart again when I remembered.  Prior to the memory... I had been poo-pooing the single red roses they were selling.  Especially the ones in the city... $15 for a single rose!!  (Another memory... mom used to get personally miffed when men were coerced into buying flowers.  On one occasion, she talked a man out of buying a bouquet that had clearly seen better days, and steered him in the direction of another.  I cracked up when she told me that story.  She had gumption, that mother of mine.)

Anyway, next thing I knew, I was in possession of a single stemmed red rose.  On my walk home... an older woman following me remarked that it was the first sign she had seen all day that it was Valentine's Day.  I explained that I was taking it to my dad, and then had to tell the story that he was in a care home with Parkinson's and dementia.  When she said she didn't want to get dementia, that she was doing everything she could to avoid it.  And what did I say?  That dementia was simply a deterioration of the brain due to ageing.  (Oh yes, I know how to make people feel good about themselves!)  But it truly is... as the body deteriorates, so does the brain.  Dementia is on the rise as we live longer lives.  It is truly a sad disease, but we need to get past the stigma of it.  Someone recently said to me that they couldn't deal with nursing homes, so they didn't go.  I once felt the same way, but don't have a choice.  Once you meet the people in the homes, though, they endear themselves to you.  They all want the same as any of us... to be shown love, friendship and kindness.  Stigma be gone!

The reason for my long-winded story... was there a reason?  I guess with roses, it is obviously a symbol of love... but suddenly I was aware of it being a symbol more than anything I could have conversed to dad.  (Hopefully you can read between the lines as I don't think I've made myself clear and have written that sentence more than a few times trying not to sound twee!)

With dementia, and dad's speech and not being able to converse with him... our recent visits have been surprisingly delightful.  The thought came to me that it's not unlike conversing with a child... you can't make out what they are saying all the time, and they certainly don't understand you... but it doesn't mean that you can't communicate and share a laugh.  I think I have moved beyond the pity stage and just appreciate dad as he is.  There are a few moments of clarity or clear speech. I just talk to him and tell him what I am up to.  Since I am studying interior design, I am more understanding of his profession as a builder.  Talking to him about construction sometimes brings about those moments of clarity.   His sense of humour is still keen... so I'll tell him a joke or funny story to make him laugh.  After all, according to Reader's Digest, laughter is the best medicine.  It truly lifts my heart to see little smile creases in his cheeks, so I will work hard to make it happen!

So that's the news with us.  Sending much love this Valentine's Day... be sure to give your loved ones a big kiss and cuddle!