Sunday, August 30, 2009


And a really big laugh that is. Did I actually say I'd have a life when Mum was fixed up and somewhere safe?

I'm still working for her. Another 9 pages filled out for Centrelink and I must post it in the morning since Mercury is apparently going retrograde in regard to communications. No dealing with AGL this week. I still have 4 things to do for her tonight before I can pack the bag for the morning. I tell you I deserve that apple cake.

I certainly deserved it for the effort of disengaging the Mepacs unit. I moved chairs, fumbled with phone cords and then had to dust it. So ten minutes later it lets out a squark followed by another and another, 10 minute intervals and I'm baffled because it's all unhooked. I called the centre, 10 minutes on the phone and somebody finally says, "Is it turned off at the switch on the bottom of the unit?" Well, no and who would have thought to look on the arse of the unit to see a switch that says ON and OFF? Problem solved and raspberries to my sister who wanted to get rid of the Telstra phone straight away because 10 minutes on my mobile would have wiped my credits. Anyway I'm paying the phone bill.

I'm emotionally brain tired as well as physically. My sister thinks I'm crazy because I wanted to strip Mum's bed and put on a nice valance and bedspread and generally tidy up the room even though she's not coming back to there. I just don't want to do this when she's gone for good.

It took me an hour and a half to go through 6 drawers in the bedside tables. She'd put them on the one side of the bed because she couldn't reach to the left. There were papers and cards and junk and envelopes with silver coins tucked in them.

But the thing that really got to me and I would have hated finding these after she'd gone, were the notes she wrote to herself. On a birthday card from last year, she'd written in the corner, "I'm 78 today. It's my 78th birthday. I'm 78 years. It's 2008 and I'm 78". That was in March last year, this year she thought she had reached 80 and was glad to find she was a year out. She wrote her name and phone number down constantly along with mine and my sister's. Pages and pages in different books. It's how hard she tried to maintain control in a mind that was not functioning.

I know how she feels.


Andrew said...

Gee that is sad about the name and number writing. That is the part sounds to be cruel.

Kelly & Sam Pilgrim-Byrne said...


Jayne said...

You've got me in tears with your mum writing down her age and your name.

Kath Lockett said...

Oh. This has got me, Jahteh. Imagine how, in some way, your mother realised that things were slipping out of reach, so that she wrote on her own cards...?

Rest up, eat cake. Lots of cake.

River said...

It's only been just over a week,Jahteh, give it time, and you will have a life of your own.
It's odd how on-off switches are in the most unlikely places, although when you think about it, the bottom is a really good idea, it's unlikely to be accidentally switched off.
(make a note - stop writing notes to myself....)
Now sit down with that applecake and have two slices.

JahTeh said...

Andrew, I knew it was happening but there wasn't a thing I could do about it while she still had enough willpower to say no. When the pain got too much and she wanted hospital then we had more control.

Keep post photos of Miss Charlotte, it's my stress-free zone. I can't believe she's almost two years old, you done a beaut job, Muriels.

Jayne, it's catching. You should see the notes I'm carrying around in my bag at the moment. It's just that people ask me questions about her and I can't think, hence the mountain of paper.

Kath, I tried very hard not to do a left turn into the bakery but, the shortcrust, the vanilla icing and they cook their own apple filling and I'm weak, weak but not weak enough to also buy the hedgehog slice with real chocolate ganache icing.

River, I do have to stop doing things for her but mental conditioning doesn't have an off switch. She has to get used to asking for what she wants from the staff instead of expecting me to do it.
Thank you the apple cake was delicious.

Davo said...

This sounds like the genesis of some sort of novel .. err, book .. er written sort of stuff. Nah, perhaps not; 'tis ongoing. Novels have some sort of ending .. wry grin.

(ingluire? what sort of word is that ??)
Cheers, Me.

R.H. said...

Well it sure ain't the biblical Genesis you old...!!!

ha ha ha, hello darlings, well there's now a cheeky little cake shop cafe in dirty old Northcote. Very nice, yes, and I wanted to grab the waitress in front of all those people.
Golly, less said the better.

JahTeh said...

Davo, believe me, I don't blog half of what goes on. Every one with a mother has a book in them.

Robbert, I can see you being batted with a stale cake for grabbiness.

R.H. said...

Yes well I sat there Sunday morning for Communion (latte and the Arts section of The Age). If I got hit by anything it would be a lamington, never the Holy Croissant.

R.H. said...

When you think about it croissants are lightweight, effete, as are the people who eat them.

Middle Child said...

MY mum was only 65 when she judt dropped dead from heart disease. She was lovely and kind so I had it good. Her mind was in great shaoe, but periodically she would become deeply depressed - I found a cassette recording of her telling herself that although she knew she was coming depressed, that it would end in a month or two and she would get through that nightmare time - she was the bravest person, but these little things were not so much hidden away, just in her private places...
My heart goes to you...its hard

angel wings and hearts said...

have been reading and enjoying your blog. will continue on reading tomorrow. your mum writing down those details struck a chord with me. my own mum passed away from brain cancer - secondary of lung cancer - she also wrote down the same things. her name over and over, her date of birth and lists of her medications and when to take them. sad. i understand.