So sad for your grief and loss, @North East Quine but thankful he finished his days here the way he wanted to, surrounded by those who love him best. (I'm sure the heavenly secateurs have been sharpened in readiness for his arrival.)
So sorry to hear of your loss @North East Quine, but your father finished his earthly journey the way he wanted to. I'll think of him every time I'm using my secateurs.
Look after yourselves now.
Oh dear ... on my last regular-irregular call to Mrs Z she is the most away with the fairies I've known her. Convinced she's in a nursing home but it's been her choice and she's determined to make the most of it. She isn't. The one clearly lucid conversation topic she had - that she's going out next Wednesday, and luch will cost $20 she repeated five or so times in the half hour call.
My sister had rung me earlier in the day to indicate that she was frazzled by trying to cope ... especially with what seem to be to both Sister and me huge hygiene and food and medication and financial management issue, so frazzled understandably.
Next morning (yesterday) Mrs Z's emergency alarm went off, and the monitoring people contact Kuruman (to whom I'm married) who happened to be next on the list, as my sister was at a funeral. No further word.
I contacted my brother who happened to be heading up there. He thinks it's all nonsense. Texts back, and of course everything is hunky dory. Could eat breakfast off the (brown-stained) floor, the penicillin growths on the left-overs and potential future meals are a wonderful biological culture that demonstrate our mother's brilliance, and my God isn't she brilliant. She'll climb Everest next.
I get back into my shell. Whatever. I'll deal with the guilt another time.
I get back into my shell. Whatever. I'll deal with the guilt another time.
(((Zappa and Kuruman and Mama Z)))
As is normal during our phone conversations, a couple of days ago, Dad asked what's on the agenda for the coming few days. I told him that we'll be going to the dentist so all the preparations can be made for him to get new dentures. (The old ones were knifing into his gums causing a sore.) He then tells me, he only needs the lowers. I said, no, that he'll get both uppers and lowers. He then gets a bit testy informing me that his uppers are his natural teeth, the ones he was born with. (heehee!!) Knowing that he'll forget the conversation, and things will progress as they're supposed to, I just dropped it. Well. Something must have happened, because he actually called to apologize that afternoon, saying that he does indeed have upper dentures! (Every cotton pickin' time I take the opportunity to have a rare nap, he calls!!!)
It's funny. I know it's not supposed to be funny, but it is!
What's funny is that now I--ME--MYSELF has become the aging parent. My 2 sons (and other onlookers) are pressing me to give up my house of 30 some years. They've set up a sort of bedroom in the dining room , which is better- eliminates trips up & down stairs. With active heart failure & multiple other nasty conditions, life is not very wonderful. I no longer run my own life. Such as it is. Whisper a prayer up to my loved ones in Heaven, and Thanks to the Heavenly department that relieves me from playing services and my over-75 "choir". Prayer for me would be good! Soli Deo Gloria
I noted your post in the Special Occasion thread that it is your birthday. Happy Birthday! And as sad as it is losing things to age, I'm glad that you have a supportive family and the ability to share yourself with your Shipmates. My prayers are with you to find comfort and happiness in ways large and small.
It is funny, and we have to find the humour or we would weep forever.
I took a guitar in to my mate with the brain tumours, who is losing his speech. He tried to sing with me, as we used to, and a bloke from over the other side of the ward (cleft palette? mouth cancer?) joined in too. The racket was f*cking awful and we were all pissing ourselves laughing. He could still sing his fancy 6th at the end of a certain Beatles number. PB4S, if you were in a choir, maybe you can smile at the idea of this mayhem
It is funny, and we have to find the humour or we would weep forever.
Eight years ago when I got a cancer diagnosis, first I looked it up on google and nearly threw up on the keyboard. Then I looked up 'cancer jokes', and you know, I think the healing of the mind started at that moment.
It was a privilege being with him for the last few weeks, and being with him as he died. I've been fortunate to have both parents until the age of 57.
The McMillan nurse said "this is what people dream of having - an almost fifty-nine year marriage, devoted children, loving grandchildren". Thinking of that helps me rise above the thought that what Dad had latterly was ill-health, discomfort and indignity.
I've also got a huge sense of relief that Dad didn't have the sort of fall which would have meant he ended his days in hospital, with Covid restrictions on visitors. When the community nurse said that he had only a day or so left, it felt as though we were leaving the choppy seas behind and sailing into a safe harbour.
Mum's ok so far. She's had 69 cards / letters, plus several bunches of flowers, and lots of phone calls. Amazingly one card was from the oncology nurses - Dad was transferred from oncology to palliative care last September, but the oncology nurses who saw him from 2014-2020 saw the newspaper announcement, remembered him and sent a card.
Have I mentioned that I the NHS?
She's been writing thank-yous, including one to a friend of mine, who sent flowers to me. I messaged thanks via Facebook messenger. Mum didn't think was this was good enough, so she wrote on my behalf!
I don't know how she'll be once she runs out of busy work.
It seems after everyone doing OK for ages that the wheels are going wobbly simultaneously on both sides of the family.
Mrs Curly Senior has finally convinced Mr Curly Snr to move into a retirement village - similar sized apartment to their current one, but facilities and people to share the load with in looking after Mr Curly Snr, who at 88 does a lot of nodding but doesn't really know what's going on. It seems he's not quite sure where they are or why, but I guess this will pass. All this is happening on the other side of the country, where I've only been able to visit once in the last 18 months. Planning to go in August if it's possible.
Mrs Curly's dad is 87, more lucid, but getting frail. He's rattling around in the family home by himself. After some health issues and a hospital stay over Easter, he seems OK but the house and especially the garden need a lot of work to be safe for him. He wants to stay put, so that's what's happening at least for the time being. At least this is only 5 km from us.
Comments
Rest eternal grant unto him, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him.
Look after yourselves now.
My sister had rung me earlier in the day to indicate that she was frazzled by trying to cope ... especially with what seem to be to both Sister and me huge hygiene and food and medication and financial management issue, so frazzled understandably.
Next morning (yesterday) Mrs Z's emergency alarm went off, and the monitoring people contact Kuruman (to whom I'm married) who happened to be next on the list, as my sister was at a funeral. No further word.
I contacted my brother who happened to be heading up there. He thinks it's all nonsense. Texts back, and of course everything is hunky dory. Could eat breakfast off the (brown-stained) floor, the penicillin growths on the left-overs and potential future meals are a wonderful biological culture that demonstrate our mother's brilliance, and my God isn't she brilliant. She'll climb Everest next.
I get back into my shell. Whatever. I'll deal with the guilt another time.
(((Zappa and Kuruman and Mama Z)))
As is normal during our phone conversations, a couple of days ago, Dad asked what's on the agenda for the coming few days. I told him that we'll be going to the dentist so all the preparations can be made for him to get new dentures. (The old ones were knifing into his gums causing a sore.) He then tells me, he only needs the lowers. I said, no, that he'll get both uppers and lowers. He then gets a bit testy informing me that his uppers are his natural teeth, the ones he was born with. (heehee!!) Knowing that he'll forget the conversation, and things will progress as they're supposed to, I just dropped it. Well. Something must have happened, because he actually called to apologize that afternoon, saying that he does indeed have upper dentures! (Every cotton pickin' time I take the opportunity to have a rare nap, he calls!!!)
It's funny. I know it's not supposed to be funny, but it is!
I took a guitar in to my mate with the brain tumours, who is losing his speech. He tried to sing with me, as we used to, and a bloke from over the other side of the ward (cleft palette? mouth cancer?) joined in too. The racket was f*cking awful and we were all pissing ourselves laughing. He could still sing his fancy 6th at the end of a certain Beatles number. PB4S, if you were in a choir, maybe you can smile at the idea of this mayhem
Eight years ago when I got a cancer diagnosis, first I looked it up on google and nearly threw up on the keyboard. Then I looked up 'cancer jokes', and you know, I think the healing of the mind started at that moment.
Dad's last words to me were "What day is it?"
It was a privilege being with him for the last few weeks, and being with him as he died. I've been fortunate to have both parents until the age of 57.
The McMillan nurse said "this is what people dream of having - an almost fifty-nine year marriage, devoted children, loving grandchildren". Thinking of that helps me rise above the thought that what Dad had latterly was ill-health, discomfort and indignity.
I've also got a huge sense of relief that Dad didn't have the sort of fall which would have meant he ended his days in hospital, with Covid restrictions on visitors. When the community nurse said that he had only a day or so left, it felt as though we were leaving the choppy seas behind and sailing into a safe harbour.
Have I mentioned that I
She's been writing thank-yous, including one to a friend of mine, who sent flowers to me. I messaged thanks via Facebook messenger. Mum didn't think was this was good enough, so she wrote on my behalf!
I don't know how she'll be once she runs out of busy work.
Prayers continuing to ascend for all of you.
Be sure that you will (all) be remembered before God every time we pick up our secateurs... for quite some time to come.
Mrs Curly Senior has finally convinced Mr Curly Snr to move into a retirement village - similar sized apartment to their current one, but facilities and people to share the load with in looking after Mr Curly Snr, who at 88 does a lot of nodding but doesn't really know what's going on. It seems he's not quite sure where they are or why, but I guess this will pass. All this is happening on the other side of the country, where I've only been able to visit once in the last 18 months. Planning to go in August if it's possible.
Mrs Curly's dad is 87, more lucid, but getting frail. He's rattling around in the family home by himself. After some health issues and a hospital stay over Easter, he seems OK but the house and especially the garden need a lot of work to be safe for him. He wants to stay put, so that's what's happening at least for the time being. At least this is only 5 km from us.
mr curly
Relocation must occure
My head is somewhere else
Prayers please
Forgot to say
In six weeks