The Year went very fast.

Mother on the left and twin sister on the right. Sister is still going but it's one year since Mother died.  All that stuff on the tray is still coming to light in my lounge, in boxes and purses, no money though. I opened one wash bag and found 4 bottles of glue. I have a basket with all the glue I found, she'd put it some where safe and not remember so she'd bribe a carer to get some more at the craft shop. I am still scrapping stick on beads off the bottom of my feet.  There must have been a bag that broke and the damn things have sifted themselves through the mile high landfill I still have.  Don't mind them sticking to the carpet but put my foot down and pain means getting out a ruler and running it over the soles of my feet.  I have now lost my 2020 diary in the middle of the mess and lost River's present but found Elephant's Child's gift.  Somehow it will all arrive in good time.

"Carolyn Petit is looking for work", tweeter, writer, editor and Feminist posted an article on reviewing, citing the reviews of Pauline Kael.  I recognized that name and I knew I had two of her books, but one is missing, my sister probably, a known non book returner. So I hauled it out to refresh myself since reading her review of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, which she hated.  My book had her review of Indiana and the Temple of Doom which she loved. Since all the Indiana adventures have just been screened, they were still fresh in the mind.  She liked Temple of Doom for the comedy, she liked that Kate Capshaw wasn't some chick in distress but in good old 1930s vibe, she was a broad.
A broad who whined a lot, a money hungry broad but funny.  The whole review was illuminating and I wanted to watch it again through her eyes.  This was before the next film with Sean Connery and I would have loved her view of The Crystal skull. I think she would have shredded that to pieces, too much CGI. She showed up the humour and when I read that, I tried to think of one bit of real humour in the other Indiana movies. But she was right, Temple of Doom was the only really funny one of them all. Do I remember any funny bits, one came to mind immediately. Indy hates snakes and she had had an elephant driving her crazy with its trunk so sitting in the dark, clunk on her shoulder goes what she thinks is that damn trunk again. She pulls it off and throw it across the camp fire straight at Indy but it's a python and he's got it. Ok, perhaps you have to see the movie.  
I've still got the book out, it's the kind of book that you dip into, next up is Star Trek 111, the Search for Spock and then Independence Day.
On the back cover, it says: Indifferent to hype and received opinion, she is true to what she sees. Above all, she writes with the conviction of someone who cares about movies.
Can't wait to see what she writes about Rambo First Blood, 11 and 111. 

I'm sorry I'm not a child this Christmas, I would just love a Unicorn that poops glitter or if you twist the tail, poops a glitter twist. Revolting but only because it reminds me of the Liberal Party and its policies, all glitter and crap.

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.














 

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.















 

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.
 
 

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. 
 

I am a comsumer of pretties

 I have a set of china mugs, 2 pink, 2 aqua and 2 white, gold edged and painted with Peonie roses.  I haven't used them in 3 years but I thought this spoon in each one would set them off in the crystal cabinet.

And while I was trawling through ebay I found this lovely Swarovski Princess brooch.  I have bought from this company before, a long pearl drop studded with tiny crystals and I bought the earring to match even though they were for pierced ears.  I had fittings, tiny and believe me they had to be tiny for the earrings and I converted them in a flash.  So this brooch is not for me but for Mothers Day and Mother.  She'll love it. 

This photo doesn't quite show the Swarovski sparkle but I loved the cut of the stone for the skirt.
I now have to stop shopping for pretties, the sales are over and the new stock has gone up in price but I have done well with only three to take apart for the stones because they were so badly made even I couldn't fix them.

She made it

Prognosis when she entered the Nursing Home was 4 to 6 months, seven years ago.  Today she makes eighty-seven years old and a great great Grandmother.  It makes me half dead.  She looked okay with little Clio which was back in December but now she is on oxygen most of the time but her mouth still moves. I turned up yesterday with an old friend of the Home and it was, Mel, could you please move that box and put that rug up there.  There was also another old friend of the Home and a grand reunion was in full swing which is why we picked yesterday instead of today.  The Homies could take a tour and see what's been done, see whoever is still breathing and both said it was a different atmosphere.  Except for one thing, no staff.  The girls on the floor were excellent but there were not enough if an emergency occurred.
Because she had a willing slave to command, it was Mel who went through the cupboards and loaded me up with stuff to cart home. I could barely lift the bag and I warned the cab driver before he copped a hernia.  I stopped at the corner shop to buy a paper and have a reviving cup of coffee and sat in the Autumn sun, lovely until I had to walk home. 
Really looking forward to another year of living two lives.

Don't go shopping after speaking with mother.

My birthday is in July, you have time to practice and save up for the shipping.  I was saving this for another post but since my taxi nearly got wiped out by a chocolate truck this afternoon, I felt it was appropriate.
Work was being done on the gutters and the road is divided by a concrete and tree arrangement, the truck felt it didn't have enough room so without a signal it swerved in front of us, rounded the divide and swerved back in front of us.  I swear there was only a gnat's whisker between truck and taxi. Since he didn't slow down in the swerve, I have visions of the back of the truck being a full mixed box.

And mother, dear mother, almost permanently on oxygen or she turns a delightful shade of blue, has decided she doesn't want the glasses that were ordered and I don't blame her.  She always has a slight pink tinge to cut down the glare and the pair that came this week had lens of lovely Cartland pink. I even attended the Relatives and Residents meeting to voice complaints but copped one of the bigwigs
of the Aged Care group going on and on about Dementia.  It would have been useful for the relatives but his audience except 4 had Dementia but it was a captive audience until I'd had enough and told him my mother didn't have Dementia when she came to the Home and he said it often developed as they aged.  I said he was missing the point, that this Home was for high care residents who couldn't walk or look after themselves because of physical trauma but now they are still bedridden or in wheel chairs in a place where the demented can walk around and terrorise them.  My dramatic exit was somewhat diminished by having to be levered out of the too small chair.  Of course mother was pleased that I spoke up and then told me if anyone came near her she could always poke their eye out with her Chinese fan.  So glad you're not in any danger from the demented.  

The point of all this is that she wants her optomotrist from two years back. She knows her first name but not the second. Her friend wants her back as well, she knows the first name but not the second and by the time I got off the phone, they couldn't agree on the first name.  Finally I've found her name in the cheque book.  It was October 2014, okay so we'll go for 2 years ago and Lens and frames cost $285 with the blush tint. This time I was told over the phone, $500 and everyone was charged $500 including the residents with dementia.  Please let dear Susan be still in business or I'll go totally round the bend...like a chocolate truck. 

She still surprises me.

We were discussing the crocodile and shark attacks last week and mother says "I've held a crocodile."
It was a struggle but I did clang my jaw back into place.  There were no dates on these photos so I had to go by the clothes and the fact that she was in the Day Room when the Reptile Farm came to visit.  She must have been 82 when they dumped that crock in her lap and she was not impressed. Can't think where I was that day, hiding under a rock?
 

 And then a goanna impressed her not at all.  These were all a surprise to me and of course, she doesn't remember anything except they were horrible to touch and no, she didn't want to play with them.  Who in their right minds would bring reptiles to a high level care facility for the residents to look at and then put them on their laps.  

The turtle wasn't too bad but she remembered that its head moved all the time so she never knew where to put her fingers.  She's like me, if they were made of cake all would have been fine.

She refuses to leave her room now.  She hates seeing how the residents she knew have all gone down hill mentally and physically.  Up against them she looks like she might make 100.  Somebody kill me now.

Stuff January

A short post to let you know I'm still here.....just.  January always brings some crap that makes my mind go into meltdown and it takes a while to regain equilibrium. (I don't care if that word is the proper meaning, I can spell the bloody thing)
Major cleaning and de-cluttering and moving of heavy books and heaving vac cleaner around the carpet  and that's only the entrance hall.
Now leaving for the Home and major de-cluttering of mother's things.  New owners are taking over on the 29th February and I don't want them to be telling her she has too much and she does. 
Other ghastlies, granddaughter mixed up with hideous cult type church in Brisbane and is in California to learn to be Minister and Missionary to spread the love and goodness of Teh Lord.
So if you want to give yourself the horrors, goggle Glory City Church, Brisbane but don't miss the other website debunking them.  And while you are there, do the same for the Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry in Redding, California.  At least this mob gives out the prices of all their services and International students must pay up front and no refunds. Also pay for all their missionary trips and are encouraged to work part time in the poorest of the communities to help spread the love and drivel of Teh Lord.  Taking away part time jobs of the poorest people would help much.
This has led me to the newest invention of Facebook, crowd funding or crowd sourcing or the way I see it, electronic begging.  And believe me the girl is well and truly in and brainwashed all the way. It's another wonderful thing her mother has done for the world and if this thieving lying bitch is in with the cult church (which started in Brisbane) then she's in it for the money nothing else but dragging in my granddaughter with her is unforgivable. Although the kid has always had a missionary mind even at Catholic College. The elder granddaughter just travels the world  and I don't want to know when she goes to India and stays AirBnB in a country of ingrained rape culture.
Oh great, short post and everything pours out.
Have not even seen StarWars yet.

Nearly made it, missed it by thaaat much.

Dear Andrew says his hangover is much better.

Next year I'm making this awesome reindeer for my pleasure and to terrify the cat.

Only StarWars  fans will get the joke.  And no, I haven't been to see the next instalment yet.

And I thought I'd give you a break from Harry.

Mother had a turn in the shower and was rushed back to bed and put on oxygen.  Now she's back on antibiotics.  She was okay Christmas Day but tired.  Her roomie died through the night, just went to sleep and bye bye.  Boxing Day, tired, so mother stayed in bed.  I was in the middle of dressing an angel doll, just getting into the sewing  of petticoats and lace which had to be done on the doll otherwise the porcelain arms can break when I got the call.  You know, oh don't come down, I'll be okay but she isn't until I walk in the room.  Bloody woman.  Doc Marvin was in today and can't believe how fast her lungs collapsed into infection because they were clear last week.

  

I have a few people to blame.  Don't come into a nursing home and slobber over the  residents, their immune system is shit and your germs aren't.  My sister and I don't kiss our mother, well if I kissed her she would think she was dying.  I've been saying this for 7 years, don't kiss them, you've had years to kiss them and if you haven't kissed them enough in that time then you aren't going to make up for it now. 

So now I'm back with Angel doll and it is not working.  Angel wings are different from fairy wings, fairy wings I can do, stupid angels, no.  To top it off, it's one of those CopperArt dolls from China where the dress is made for a standing up body but then they go and twist the body to make it look different from the other 4 million Angels they made that week.  I went into the sewing room and packed fabric in boxes and let the empty brain space do its work and I've got it and remembered how to stiffen the wings, hairspray.  I even found the white feathers I'd been looking for.  Hand beading is now going to be sticking on with glue beading.  I've cleaned up the beads and can't find a crystal or a pearl anywhere.  I'll go feed the cat and think on it.  Bloody woman couldn't wait until I'd finished to have another episode.

Jingle balls, bells, whatever

This is how Christmas should be, it isn't.  It's more like this.

And the kids aren't even out of school yet.  Do drivers put on a special ningnong hat for rolling the streets in December?  I'm counting busdrivers in this as well because I caught a bus yesterday and I swear he was sniggering as I tried to drop the loaded walker to the footpath when it looked like he wasn't going to lower the step.  He waited until the last possible moment to drop it and me and walker.
As if it wasn't bad enough that I was on my way to the Home and the crackers.  Someone has a rash and I wasn't the first to think 'little livestock a'wandering' or maybe a gift of herpes.  Someone  had to have their long pants cut off, too tight, too shrunk, too someone else's.  Mother and I had a relatively peaceful afternoon as there was an entertainment going on.  She was going on about her lovely rainbow lights all over the house and how it lit up the street so I bought her two little trees, one plastic and one glass with tiny baubles on the branches and they light up and change colour.  If they keep going until christmas Day, her brain should be nicely rooffied.  I wrapped up Doc Marvin's present from mother and since he's like me and likes to start reading a book the minute it's open, I predict a threat of divorce on Christmas morning.

I'd just seen him for blood test results, not as bad as they could have been. In an ideal world BGL 5 or 6 would have been perfect but as he said in my world of chaos, he'll accept 7.1. I was overjoyed as my monitor kept throwing up averages like 8.6.  Blood pressure was a little high but I had been on the phone with the sister who wanted to know if pensioners got a Christmas bonus.  We're fkn lucky to get a pension with this mob in Canberra.
One more stupid question like that and I will kick her in her knee replacement.

Southland wasn't too bad as I started at the top and worked my way down.  Don't bother with Black Opium, too fruity sweet and I did have a great spray while the assistant was helping another lady.  I'll stick with the old Opium.  And not too many gift sets from Estee Lauder this year which throws a spanner in the cheap works as they usually drop the prices after Christmas.  So to Aldi's to buy a fold up table, second attempt.  This one was only 6 feet long and folded in two, perfect if I had been Arnold Schwartznegger (did I miss an e).  I couldn't move the box, could not even slide it onto the trolley.  The girl asked if I wanted a man for assistance, well, yes, but only if he came home in the taxi with me and carried it into the house.  I bought a box of macadamia shortbread instead.  Nice tin, Doc Marvin likes tins so I'll give it to him from me, minus the shortbread.

I hate the heat already.

And I found out the drama queen white cat has never seen a balloon before. World record leap for his twitchiness, world record squeeze under the coffee table, followed by a record run for the back door.
He crawled in two hours later and gave new meaning to the word 'pussy foot'. I swear it took him 15 minutes to make it across the lounge to hide behind the couch.  I couldn't get a nice well adjusted moggie, I had to get a whacko with raw nerves.  I wonder what he'd do if I blew one up and then just let it go, better not, the room's in enough mess as it is.

Are we going to get Sydney's storm?  Any chance, even a small one preferably before the weekend?

Now this is a fountain.

I love this fountain and I want it in my garden.  A nice deck chair or something more sturdy for me and I could sit and meditate on the splashing of the water especially with the sun behind, making little rainbows for my wishes. It came from the imagination of Malgorzata Chodakowska.

A lot has happened at the Home which we are now referring to as Mushroom House, keeping us in the dark and feeding us bullshit.  With 2 days warning the kitchen was turned over to an American hospitality company, our tea ladies were fired but the favourite chef was kept on because they couldn't find anyone who would work Sunday/Monday for the same amount of money.  I was not offered a cup of tea  yesterday so from now on I'll take my own cup and tea bag and ask for hot water.
The one thing they have re-installed is for the relatives to have a meal with their husbands or wives, cost of $5.  This is great for the men who usually go home and don't bother eating properly.

Now we just wait to see if they tell us the facility has also been sold to an American company.  A certain mother's Doc received a letter saying his arrangement with the Council Aged Care Group would not be continued did not go down well.  He is my mother's personal doctor and the inference was that she would have to use the doctor that will go with the big new Aged Care Centre which isn't built yet.  He was busy yesterday drafting a reply that will probably blister paint.  After searching for anything regarding the sale on line, I came across a small article that mentions the land being decontaminated  since it was used as the Council Depot for Everything.  That company walked away with $1.1 million dollars.  They should have decontaminated a few Councillors for that amount.

The hard rubbish collection took no prisoners this year.  Usually they have a variety of trucks for small, medium and large but this time a huge behemoth on wheels went down one side of the street and up the other and ate everything even my sofa bed with the steel frame.  The nature strips looked as though nothing had ever been on the grass, I've never seen a collection like it, gone in 60 seconds.
Most of the neighbours didn't put out until the weekend which didn't give much time for us to have a look and make a midnight run.  It seemed the gutter crawlers were only interested in scrap metal this year.  I was very good but I'm still crying for the cupboard across the road and the hat rack around the corner.  

And I really wanted two chairs to try and make this bench, just right for meditating near a fountain. There's always next year.

Full Moon July 2nd

Okay, mother really bad this time.
She had a shower last week and they had to rush her back to bed and oxygen.
This is the longest time she has spent in bed at the Home and she says she's not getting up until she feels better.
This from WonderWoman who would not stay in bed for anything and demanded a shower every day.
She's back on Penicillan injections (sp?), oxygen, big purple antibiotics, patches over her heart and oxygen.
The coughing up of bits of lung into the phone was enough to keep me away without her telling me to stay home in case I caught it. 
I don't think I'll catch what she has.

I'll be back whenever.  Thank goodness I have anti-depressant ice-creams in the freezer.

Just another episode

Before I start with the ranting and you don't want to read about my pain and family, focus on the jewellery.  Now this is the kind of ring I would want to wear all the time, no it's not flashy, it's Australian and we're never flashy, more expensively classy.  It's a bi-colour Sapphire, green, gold, green.  I have a small one of blue/green/gold in a triangle shape but not enough diamonds to make it up to look like this. It's well made, look at the length of the claws holding the stone and four claws holding each diamond.  

Now just keep looking while I snivel.
Did I not tell the Stomal therapist to be careful in regard to mother?  Apart from the allergic reaction to the adhesive of everything new she used, she never bothered to ring me or write a report for the Home.  I did receive 3 accounts of $115 each and had to check that she had made 3 visits instead of the two I knew about.  She is coming again to try something new and won't charge this visit, woot!
Too bad then that on Thursday afternoon, Mother decided to go a bit doollally and on Friday morning she couldn't wake up.  Not wouldn't, couldn't, she was asleep but knew she couldn't wake and the PCA on the other side of the closed eyes couldn't wake her. Eventually she did wake up and I went in as usual to be a Death Watch beetle by the bedside.  She had a temp but when she drifted off to sleep she started to shake badly which is when we found the Cellulitis across stomach, down to leg and around the back, big flare up.  Sister said I cannot blame ST because mum has no immune system but shit yes I can because I warned her repeatedly to read her files and be very careful.  Bitch sister went down yesterday and said she couldn't see what I was worried about, stayed half an hour and left. (a brick with her name on it is waiting)  Bitch ST is going to be paid but by cheque which I will post sometime next week or longer and she won't get the money for doing bloody nothing.

But I am in pain, couldn't get to the pharmacy for arthritis pills and I'm two days without them and can't walk, can't do my bra up, can't get shoes on and then they ring and ask me to come in.  Crap! So race up to Southland, get pills and several boxes of painkillers which they didn't want to give me until I explained that I take the appropriate painkiller for the level of pain I'm in. Since by this time I'm flat on the counter in a sweat, they give me what I want then I couldn't get the fck'n little arthritis pills out the fck'n childproof pack because my hands are fck'n hurting.  
Hurtle down to the Home to find mother is okay but the idiot in charge only wanted to update the records of palliative care for the Accreditation Team due in next week.  Would my mother want prayers said, would she like music, would she like the whole family with her or just a few (I am the fck'n few), would she go to hospital or stay at the Home.  Jesus H on a stick, I filled all this stuff out 6 years ago and this dill asked me why.  Because when she went in, she was palliative care and was only thought to last 4 months AND THEY LOOKED AFTER HER SO WELL, SHE'S STILL BLOODY HERE 6 YEARS LATER. Pardon the yelling because I've just had another call from the Home telling me the infection is spreading and the dumbarse in charge has sent a fax to Doc Marvin's office for him to read tomorrow.  Big bloody notice on mum's file says RING DOC MARVIN AT ANY TIME.  The man checks call centre, mobile phone and medical centre when she's ill but he probably wouldn't check the fax machine when they've just closed for the day.  

I have taken so many different pills over the last few days that I am now almost pain free, and can drop the doses, well I was until a minute ago, now I am going to search for that box of Cadbury's Roses I hid weeks ago and find the Magnum I know is at the back of the freezer.  It's time for self medication of a more pleasant kind.

And all this is happening when I have $205 left on my taxi card which means I've spent $2000 on fares since June 30 last year because of fck'n emergencies.

Magnum is Honeycomb.  I ate the espresso one last time I self medicated.

I am sick of my mother!

Isn't this great for an elderly indoor cat.  The Bear would love one that jutted right out of the kitchen into the apple tree.  The birds wouldn't but would probably catch on and stand on the top and make faces at him.

You can see from the size of this bead that it's designed to go on a Pandora bracelet.  I just wouldn't have the control or the patience to manipulate the various coloured glass to make it.  My hands are barely able to open a chocolate box without injury.

This is also a bead, a focal bead, the centre of a necklace.  We have the moon, stars and a swirling sea and more than a truck load of talent to do this.

 

 

 

 

Mother is sick again and I don't care a fig.  I was down there for three hours yesterday but she waited until a friend of our came in after I left to go into a decline.  The friend is more sympathetic than I am these days.  Mother said she hid how ill she was from me because she didn't want to worry me, what BS.  As though I haven't spent the last 10 years just judging how ill she is by just watching her but she had all her minions running around after her and ringing Doc Marvin. I was rung by the friend last night and had a report which was nothing like the phone call from mother this morning.  I am worried for the friend since she has become a target of a nasty at the Home who made comments up the line that she does so much for mother that her daughters must feel pushed out.  Bwahahahahaha!
I'm constantly telling her not to fall for the old bat's manipulations but she's kind and says she doesn't mind.  Sister is popping in this afternoon for her usual 5 minutes but I've warned her so she's going to try and get hold of the nursing notes and see what the medication is.  It's not infection, it's just the usual heart not functioning enough to pump out fluid collecting in the lungs.  But believe me she'll hang on until next Saturday when she turns 85.  That could have been my breaking point yesterday when she  said something about her birthday and added that it was only 5 years then until she was 90 and she might make it yet. 
 That's serious, look how fast this year is going, it's March tomorrow.

Try again

I wrote a very long post yesterday which was read by Elephant's Child before it disappeared. I think I pressed a wrong button somewhere and I keep getting error notices from Blogger that also disappear before I can grab the error number to email them about the error.

Nov 30, see mother, very ill.  Home at 6 and phone call, mother much worse, needs us.
I sit from 6 til 8 next morning in a chair designed by the Spanish Inquisition and cripple myself.
She really was dying, nothing fake about that.  Oxygen, morphine, anti-psychotic drugs for the terrors, struggling to breathe, eyes fallen back in her head and red in a pale face.

By the next Friday, she is sitting up in bed after a shower and eating breakfast.

Saturday morning, deep in the only sleep I've had since the last Saturday, the phone rings.  After I calm the heart beat down to non heart attack, I realize it's mother.  She's rung my number but can't remember how to talk into the phone.  I hang up.

Sunday, she is off the morphine by injection, no oxygen, other drugs gone just some ventilin to clear the lungs.

I don't ring, take her calls or go to see her for 4 days.  Something has snapped inside me.  After sitting for so long with half my mind watching her die and the other half preparing a funeral, I've lost it completely.  I cannot get my mind to reboot to normal and I'm dealing with the fact that I am filled with anger that even dying, she managed to manipulate me into being with her because she was frightened.

I refuse to go to the Christmas Party. I go down the next day and she has more visitors than she can handle.  Tells me off for not getting them out.  Afternoon tea is party leftovers, which I don't get so I can't tell her not to eat it.  I do tell her to put the bed up but she's in charge and doesn't so she shoves the chocolate crackle slice into her mouth, doesn't chew it and chokes.  As in purple in the face, no breath choking but manages to bring up most of it with much coughing and more choking.
In between coughs and flying crackles she points to the Kleenex box so I move it closer to her and she looks in and says, "Wash my teeth, there's chocolate on them". The carers are hovering around by this time so I pick up my bags and leave.

Only been back once, yesterday and only because she needed her DVD viewer because she was tired of looking at the ceiling.  I didn't intend to take it, the BOH was going to do it and called in on Monday night to pick it up.  By the way did I have any painkillers, his hand was hurting from using it to break his 8 foot fall onto a concrete floor.  I take one look, tell him to get to the hospital as it was broken, no it's not, he just needs painkillers.  Tuesday night I get a call, do I have anything stronger than the pills I handed out the night before because they don't give out painkillers at the hospital where he is having his arm plastered from wrist to elbow.

My sister asked mother if she saw anyone from the other side when she was dying. By the way mother wasn't dying, just a little ill for a day or so.  Yes, she saw her mother and my father and sister asked why didn't you go with him?  Mother said he told her to go back.  I swear if he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him.

Hold the curtain, the fat lady ain't sung yet

The curtain is almost down

After more farewells than Nellie Melba, Mum has finally taken the stage for the last time.
It is now a matter of days then hours. I stayed all night, Sunday and almost crippled myself in a monster of a chair. So now we are staggering the visits until she drifts into a coma and will be moved to the Lavender Room, with comfy chairs and a soothing fish tank to watch.
Doc Marvin has been wonderful. To clear away the monsters she has been so frightened of, he's ordered special meds and morphine has taken away any pain. 
She has gone downhill in a matter of days and the staff have come in from their days off to say goodbye although not in so many words.
I will be back at some stage.

Don't count your mothers before they despatch

The happy clappy time didn't last very long.
She's going but very slowly.  Congestive heart failure and morphine to help.
But this morning she insisted on getting up and having a shower.
I'm so tired I by-passed a chocolate shop because I couldn't be bothered trying to decide what to buy.
I hit Mentone by cab this morning to find my sister waiting for a cab after her shift at the Home.
Tart had scratched the scratchie she'd bought for me and used it to buy a pizza.  Karma's a bitch while she spoke to me, a little old man took her cab.
So if you don't see me again for a while, you know where I am.  I'm starting to feel like a Deathwatch beetle.  If mother has any idea of what's happening, she's not saying, total denial has always been her strength.
I have had to explain to a few of the newer nurses that our family is strange and than when I say we will have to drop her in a vat of molten metal to knock her off, we are just joking. The oldies know we're not joking, they've seen her come back from the brink too many times, even they refer to her as The Terminator.
I can only say that Doc Marvin is a wonder, I wish we could clone him.