Monday, January 14, 2019

There'll be time when she goes......

No there won't because the after dying stuff goes on and on and on. Money was put into Mum's account again last week and that light bulb blinks. Who informs Centrelink of a person who has died in the care of a nursing home, me, Power of attorny and next of kin or Mercy Health admin?  I had 6 tabs open on the MyGov web page and still couldn't find the answer and there are several options for a funeral payment and only one would fit our situation, which is a single pension payment but I thought that had already been paid into the bank account.

Apparently the chain of command is, Doctor's Certificate stating cause of death which lets the funeral minions take charge and they inform Births, Marriages and Deaths and sooner or later a Certificate will arrive with a note telling me to have someone with me when I open it as it might distress me only if it's 3 months from now and Centrelink is still putting money in the account.  
The death is magically flittered over to Centrelink and they send me a letter probably abusing me for not letting them know.

I don't need it for the Cemetary since I have Mum sitting in the wardrobe. I do have to make an appointment with them to sign papers to have a hole dug. An official stands by and for $450 watches the 2nd official digger dig the hole. They only have hole digging on Thursdays and Sundays and if a mob turns up I have to pay for the extras but it will be Thursday and only me.  The Monumental Mason is across the road from the Cemetary and I can walk there and order the bronze plaque which slides in next to my father's.  That's after I go to the Pioneer Cemetary and take a photo of the plaque to get the size right.
That starts at $900 depending on how many words are to go on it.  Heaven help me if the nag above doesn't get the last word. 
Look up Pioneer Cemetary at Cheltenham, it has some famous people there and very interesting to walk around.

So not having a reason to close down the bank accounts is a good thing.

I have the silk flowers to go in the lovely urn but not cement to put the flowers in lemonade bottles. My genius, when they get tatty I just take out the bottles, throw them away and make up another lot of lovely flowers. The roses lasted 8 years until the bush fire went through and our plot was the unlucky one to get frizzled.  Official funeral expenses, taxi to Bunnings, bag of cement, taxi home.
Fix flowers, taxi to cemetary, plant and taxi home. I think I'll go and have another look for photos so I can cut out one step. Photos are everywhere included a load I brought back from the Home.

Death Certificate will not upset me, someone walking into the house and asking why don't I just get a company to some in and do the cleaning up, upsets me. That's my Mother's junk and I have to go through it, especially when I find a birthday card from two years ago, for me, and she was upset when she couldn't find it so made another one. It's a tradition for a Victorian Spinster Daughter to go through and burn any thing that would trash a dear Mama's reputation, Queen Victoria's daughter practically re-wrote her diaries and Princess Margaret had a bonfire of the Queen Mum's letters but all I found were notes for me to buy this and that.














 

Wednesday, January 02, 2019

If I have to speak to one more robot......


Mother on the  (my) left and twin sister on the right.  If I never have to speak to her again I'll be happy after her ringing me on Christmas morning to demand that her eulogy be read out since she couldn't come because of illness. I gathered from that comment that she intended to stand up and blither on with her usual load of BS.  Sister and I had fights about allowing people to speak but I don't agree with letting people who aren't used to speaking to a crowd get up and waffle on.  I wanted what mum asked me for and she got it.

It goes on and on.  I have been on the phone for nearly 3 hours with bank, Home and Pharmacy and in the finish I had the choice of paying the Pharmacy or going through ebanking looking for a payment I'm sure I paid and he has just charged me again.  I'm too brain dead after wanting to strangle the pious little creep from Mercy Health who said naturally the direct debits stopped as soon as they were notified of death.  Well it would have been nice had they sent me a letter and set it all out.  I think I have paid for everything now but I should have put what I paid into my bank account and then put that into Visa because if can't take that out, see brain dead.  Pension this week and I will put that where the visa money should be.  Can't use anything yet until I get death certificate and will which I think I have and I suppose I have to pay for that and I forgot the Cemetary stuff.  They charge to dig a hole.  I'm going to bed to sleep.















 

Monday, December 17, 2018

It's a quarter to three and no-one's in the place except you and me

And you weren't talking anymore.  Mum died at 2 a.m. Monday morning and I went straight down well not quite straight, I made a detour to put my teeth in, check the knickers and no one could see my nightdress under the dress.
What were the odds of getting a regular driver, one who had driven me for the last 10 years. He said he'd keep an ear out for a call from Brindisi and come to pick me up which he did.
Now there's a story that when someone close dies, they always leave a message to say they reached the other side safely.  I have curtains in the kitchen on a sliding rod to fit any window, never moved in l0 years until last night when I found the sliding rod had slid out completely and half the curtains were on the floor, good one Mum.  I didn't see the huge spider web until the morning, that'll get a spray later.
I think I had about an hour's sleep with the cat cuddling mummy until the phone rang. My sister trying to manage things from Yeppoon, no one is ever going to tell me what to do ever again.
Back to the Home again and packed up enough clothes and rubbish to outfit a cruise on the Titanic. One of the rules is that residents are not to have scissors, Mother had 15 pairs hidden in various places.  I ended with 7 bags, 2 large and heavy and the others smaller but still heavy since I packed her photographs in between the clothes.  I thoroughly object to bringing her teeth home but the funeral joint might need them.
I've left the wheelchair there after making sure they wouldn't send it to the tip but would use it for someone else.  And another 35 CDs and 25 DVDs.
According to my sister my place is such a tip, another load of junk wouldn't matter. Bitch.
Nephew will ring in the morning to pick up the junk and me. He is devastated, for the last week he's called in every night, held her hand and patted her head then left.
River, your pies are well hidden until Christmas, they smell delicious.
I still have people to ring but I needed a break.  Why do people want me to cry about a death I'm happy with.  I've watched her struggle to breathe for the last two weeks and now she's calm and in no pain.  The only crying I'll do is if I go to punch my sister and hurt my arthritic hand.
And I found out she had an admirer, a gentleman caller every Monday which I never knew about. He came in this morning, totally shocked and asked if I minded him coming to the funeral, not in the slightest. Who knew, she had secrets.
Readers of this blog might remember the hysteria about putting up the Christmas lights all over the damn house, damn I hated those bloody lights.  Well all the way to the Home and it was dark but as we passed house after house, lights flickered on and off.  Don't care I'm still not putting any up on this house.
I'd rather do this to the cat and treat the shredded arms later. It will give me something to do while I think about new curtains and punching my sister.
 
 

Saturday, December 15, 2018

Still hanging in there

There is a Palliative team coming on Monday to install a little morphine machine somewhere on Mother.  She has morphine when she needs it but it's another jab, clothes have to be moved, sheets and pillows then all has to be put back just right so it's not a quick thing.
I go down about 1, after lunch when everything is more or less done and I'm not in the way but the RN says she loves the way she settles down when I walk in the door. I don't take a book but have several magazines, reading a book seems to say I'm here but don't bother me but I can show her pretty pictures in a magazine and she enjoys that. She drops off to sleep after a while but still can't breathe very well especially when some twit puts the wrong size tube on the oxygen machine or turns it off completely when reaching for another bell.  They don't get away with much, I've been there too long.
She's now finding it hard to swallow food and I had a stoush with an officious little bimbo who insisted on shoving food into her as though she was a starving baby bird.  The bimbo learned to listen when she found herself on the end of a projectile vomit.
I've been taking little things home with me and she gave most of her craft cards to her sister when she came last week.  And speaking of cards, I found one large one in 3 envelopes, she'd written on the front, in spidery writing, 'don't ever lose this' and when I finally opened the 3rd envelope I found a beautiful card.  Thank you Annie O'Dyne, she loved that card so much she resisted the urge to cut it up and re-use it. 
Weekends are always dreary at the Home so I'm having breakfast, feeding the cat and watching the news and no doubt will fall asleep in the chair and wake up in time to head out.
The cat is not speaking to me, how dare I leave him alone for weeks. So he gets an extra can of food before I leave.  I thought I might have lost him last night.  We had one wild clap of thunder which felt right over the house, all the lights went and I grabbed the big torch.  I looked for the cat and he was flat on the floor like a Bear rug and not moving. As soon as he saw the light he was up on my knee and stayed there until all the lights came back.  And then I got a look that said 'what did you do that for?' I'm glad cats can't talk, I couldn't stand the guilt.
Another update at some stage. Doc Marvin, gem, an absolute gem. I'm sorry I can't share him with the bloggers who need a doctor like him. 
 

Sunday, December 09, 2018

Mother is fading




Mother is neither here nor there.  She's seeing people in her room and she knows they're not real. I was helpful and told her not all angels wear wings for a welcoming.  She is worried about me being all on my own if she dies and she asked for my permission to die.
I told her it was her journey not mine but she was terrified to let go so now she feels she has half of herself here and the other half is somewhere else.  Her voice is like a whisper and she shakes.  She feels better if she wakes up and I'm there because I am real.
After 4 hours of travelling, shopping, sitting and talking last Friday, I sat down to take off my shoes and woke up 2 hours later with one shoe on and the other still in my hand.

The only thing to do today to relax was wander through Pinterest, spend money and dye the snow white out of my hair.  I now have my expensive Christmas chocolates, Champagne and cake.

Isn't that cat bed fabulous in the window?  The IceBear is making do with my office chair and a feather cushion by the back door where he can watch birds with making an effort.
If I was dumb enough to make a window bed for him I would be the one lifting the lump up. I'd need a bigger window or a smaller cat.

And just when I'm de-cluttering, I spot this Christmas deco idea.  I had little glass salt and pepper shakers for the bottoms and the silver tops would be the hats which would be great if they weren't down in the Op Shop where someone else is using this idea. 
I couldn't find baubles in the colour I wanted until I was de-cluttering the make up drawer and found a bottle of Avon non shiny Cranberry nail polish.  Worked a treat, one small bottle did two coats and I'm now to the stage of clear polish for snow sprinkles in a pattern. I'm sick of de-cluttering tv programmes where the house ends up looking like a shed just looking for a barn dance. At the moment I can walk through the lounge as long as I stick to the un cluttered tracks and the cat. I am firmly convince you cannot de-hoard a born hoarder.  I might have lost the snowmen but I have a divine red bauble.