Well the Meezer's sick. Came up with a paralysis tick, despite being an indoor cat. Probably got it off Mikaela as she's on Nexgard. They hitch rides on her but don't imbed. I've picked up 3 so far this season from giving her hugs -- too irresistable not to. Anyway, Matisse likes sleeping in her chair in the afternoon, the chair Mikaela sleeps in overnight. So lots of time to fasten itself to his neck.
Treated at the vet. Tick serum is derived from the blood of tick resistant dogs (building up resistance slowly and consistently). Some cats have a bad reaction. Matisse did not. What he had a reaction to is the spot on they applied just before he came home. 36 hours of thick ropy saliva - a more miserable cat would be hard to find. While he's finally stopped drooling he doesn't want to eat. I've been syringe feeding (force) since Thursday. The weight has melted from him. Thought his appetite would've kicked in by now. Cats who don't eat for more than 3 days lose the desire to eat and must be 'kick started' to regain their appetite. Not in Matisse's case. Going to ring the vets tomorrow for suggestions. Still have one dose (from Nairobi) of mirtazapine left.
He's 15, close to 16. He's not bouncing back. Worried.
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Monday, December 9, 2019
Showered Richard a few days ago. It wasn't that long ago when I suggested I shower him he growled he'd move out before that happened. Just answered a lovely email from Heather who wrote she'd been thinking of us, how she hopes we get the help we need from the 'system'. Have made an appointment with the doc to get a referral to Occupational Therapy for handrails, perhaps an addendum to the toilet, rails in the shower and whatever else they might deem necessary be installed.
He's failing and the failing seems to be accelerating. The day I showered him, he was mentally 'out of it'. He falls into a daze while eating, sitting with a morsel of food poised at the entrance to his mouth. The daze, if not broken, quickly devolves into sleep. Now The Daze, should capitalize it as it's such a leading light in our lives, has appeared while he's standing. Richard forgets how to open the doors, sliding glass and screen doors. He forgets the names of his grandchildren. He doesn't understand much beyond the basics - go here, eat this, stop that, do that. Conversations which involve the simplest concepts are now beyond him. We had two inappropriate urinations close together; a bed wetting (thank goodness for the Brolly Sheet!) and in the hall. These mishaps cause him great consternation. And I got cranky too. The one in bed was due to his having a beer and a scotch. Too much alcohol and he loses bladder control. So when he woke me at 3:30 saying Holly Wake UP! I told him tough, he'd have to cope. But of course I couldn't get back to sleep. The other time, again waking me at 3:30, the magic time of night it seems, I was less than gracious on my hands and knees mopping up urine.
I don't carry resentment, don't beat him over the head with it after the fact. He can't help it really. At the same time, I'm not going to beat myself up for being cranky either.
His days are hard. He has such a strong work ethic he feels he should be doing something but is unable to do much at all. He washes the dishes, blows the hay from the truck with the blower, waters the plants, even watering the pots with nothing in them, sweeps the deck. Other than that he sits on the couch in The Daze, then complains because his ankles are swollen. Well, do something! I rail. Sweep, cobweb, pull weeds, do your exercises (sitting and rising from a chair without using his hands). Yes, he says, I will, then forgets what he was going to do between the couch and the door.
Thank god he doesn't remember how he was or he'd be pathologically depressed. When I was washing his privates, when I clip his toenails, when I tell him he doesn't need to put on a pair of underwear as he's already wearing a set, when I dress him, if he saw these things as he was, he'd be mortified. Now he's mostly meek and grateful.
He's not doing the best job when he showers so there'll be a time soon when I can edge my way into that job permanently without hurting his feelings. Ditto teeth brushing. And shaving. Next will come bum wiping. That will be a tough one.
On a good note. Matisse is off the prozac. I'd ordered a batch, it got hung up in the depot so he had to go without for a few days. What a transformation! He's calmer, happier, hasn't sprayed, rarely wails at night, is still affectionate, that hasn't changed, and he doesn't smell like drugs or have greasy ears. The downside is it was obviously an appetite stimulant for he's not eating as much (why can't there be a happy medium? On drugs he ate too much. Off drugs not enough).
He's failing and the failing seems to be accelerating. The day I showered him, he was mentally 'out of it'. He falls into a daze while eating, sitting with a morsel of food poised at the entrance to his mouth. The daze, if not broken, quickly devolves into sleep. Now The Daze, should capitalize it as it's such a leading light in our lives, has appeared while he's standing. Richard forgets how to open the doors, sliding glass and screen doors. He forgets the names of his grandchildren. He doesn't understand much beyond the basics - go here, eat this, stop that, do that. Conversations which involve the simplest concepts are now beyond him. We had two inappropriate urinations close together; a bed wetting (thank goodness for the Brolly Sheet!) and in the hall. These mishaps cause him great consternation. And I got cranky too. The one in bed was due to his having a beer and a scotch. Too much alcohol and he loses bladder control. So when he woke me at 3:30 saying Holly Wake UP! I told him tough, he'd have to cope. But of course I couldn't get back to sleep. The other time, again waking me at 3:30, the magic time of night it seems, I was less than gracious on my hands and knees mopping up urine.
I don't carry resentment, don't beat him over the head with it after the fact. He can't help it really. At the same time, I'm not going to beat myself up for being cranky either.
His days are hard. He has such a strong work ethic he feels he should be doing something but is unable to do much at all. He washes the dishes, blows the hay from the truck with the blower, waters the plants, even watering the pots with nothing in them, sweeps the deck. Other than that he sits on the couch in The Daze, then complains because his ankles are swollen. Well, do something! I rail. Sweep, cobweb, pull weeds, do your exercises (sitting and rising from a chair without using his hands). Yes, he says, I will, then forgets what he was going to do between the couch and the door.
Thank god he doesn't remember how he was or he'd be pathologically depressed. When I was washing his privates, when I clip his toenails, when I tell him he doesn't need to put on a pair of underwear as he's already wearing a set, when I dress him, if he saw these things as he was, he'd be mortified. Now he's mostly meek and grateful.
He's not doing the best job when he showers so there'll be a time soon when I can edge my way into that job permanently without hurting his feelings. Ditto teeth brushing. And shaving. Next will come bum wiping. That will be a tough one.
On a good note. Matisse is off the prozac. I'd ordered a batch, it got hung up in the depot so he had to go without for a few days. What a transformation! He's calmer, happier, hasn't sprayed, rarely wails at night, is still affectionate, that hasn't changed, and he doesn't smell like drugs or have greasy ears. The downside is it was obviously an appetite stimulant for he's not eating as much (why can't there be a happy medium? On drugs he ate too much. Off drugs not enough).
Wednesday, November 20, 2019
I didn't reckon on being this lonely. Lonely as opposed to alone. Being alone is a delightful state of being. Yesterday morning I was alone. Took the Skoda in for a service, walked across town and across the river to have a coffee at the Riverview. I had a book, the river, nesting mynah birds and water dragons for company. I was alone at a table on the verandah and perfectly happy. I read a little, watched the river and river life for a little, read some more. An enjoyable hour.
Picked up Richard to get the second car serviced. We walked to the RSL (air conditioning a necessity) for lunch. Watched Richard struggle with his meal, tried to help him to use the knife without interfering too much. Couldn't read the book (rude), made small talk (lots of white cars, aren't there, how's the fish, let's get this napkin in your lap), watched traffic and felt lonely.
I'm not the best conversationalist but there are so many things of interest to discuss yet there is no one to discuss them with. I see the women on Thursdays, the Writer's Group for 2 hours on a Friday and Nick the guitar teacher every second Wednesday. Sometimes I run into people while walking - or talk to the guys at the feed store or the women at the checkout - but that's just chitchat. I miss the companionship of conversation.
Am a bit chary about complaining as what do I have to complain about in the grand scheme of things when I have a roof, food, safety, interests, etc. On the other hand, it wouldn't be honest to pretend everything is peachy and I am miss pollyanna perfectly happy. I'm not.
Being relieved and grateful for the hour or so when he takes a nap - I wish it was otherwise. Being aggrieved and out of sorts when there is a long spate of essential micromanagment because his memory fails him and he's lost his bearings. And the fight to remain patient and loving. How difficult that can be and I often fail, hearing the impatience in my voice.
Even small talk becomes more difficult as Parky robs him of his ability to speak much above a whisper and the dexterity toform words clearly. Then of course dementia steals his vocabulary as well as his memory.
It's a shit deal for anyone. Richard doesn't deserve this - and whingy me, neither do I.
Picked up Richard to get the second car serviced. We walked to the RSL (air conditioning a necessity) for lunch. Watched Richard struggle with his meal, tried to help him to use the knife without interfering too much. Couldn't read the book (rude), made small talk (lots of white cars, aren't there, how's the fish, let's get this napkin in your lap), watched traffic and felt lonely.
I'm not the best conversationalist but there are so many things of interest to discuss yet there is no one to discuss them with. I see the women on Thursdays, the Writer's Group for 2 hours on a Friday and Nick the guitar teacher every second Wednesday. Sometimes I run into people while walking - or talk to the guys at the feed store or the women at the checkout - but that's just chitchat. I miss the companionship of conversation.
Am a bit chary about complaining as what do I have to complain about in the grand scheme of things when I have a roof, food, safety, interests, etc. On the other hand, it wouldn't be honest to pretend everything is peachy and I am miss pollyanna perfectly happy. I'm not.
Being relieved and grateful for the hour or so when he takes a nap - I wish it was otherwise. Being aggrieved and out of sorts when there is a long spate of essential micromanagment because his memory fails him and he's lost his bearings. And the fight to remain patient and loving. How difficult that can be and I often fail, hearing the impatience in my voice.
Even small talk becomes more difficult as Parky robs him of his ability to speak much above a whisper and the dexterity toform words clearly. Then of course dementia steals his vocabulary as well as his memory.
It's a shit deal for anyone. Richard doesn't deserve this - and whingy me, neither do I.
Sunday, November 10, 2019
Hard to settle to anything. NSW and southern Queensland are on fire. Smoke haze so thick Mt. Warning, Uki and The Sisters are just eerie shadows in the gloom. Over 100 homes lost, 3 people dead, more injured. The nearest fire is at Nightcap Mountain National Park - so not near but it was in conditions exactly like this the fire at Terragon/Clarrie Hall Dam/Palmers Road burnt the mountain we can see from our deck - so as the crow - or embers - fly, not far. And, as the conditions are just the same and will worsen tomorrow, I worry. Useless I know. Not helpful. Can't discern 'new' smoke in the air as it's all smoke. Lots of helicopter traffic to-ing and fro-ing.
It's a tinderbox. Our rainforest is so dry, trees are dying from lack of water. Rainforest needs rain and lots of it. We've had so little. The ground crackles beneath my feet from bark and leaves. The scrub turkeys dig and scratch and find not much - the grubs and earthworms have either died or dug deeper. Have a bucket of water out for wallabies, turkeys and big birds like currawongs and a smaller birdbath for the wee birds. Saw the first bird use it today while making up the horse feed, a Leuwins Honeyeater. Now that one has found it, others will too. Putting out fruit leftovers for those interested. Always gone in the morning, save for mango pitts and watermelon rind.
Lay awake last night listing all the things I must take if we have to leave. With 7 birds, 3 cats, 1 dog and us, it won't be easy. At least we have the caddy which should hold everyone. Can't trust Richard to drive anymore although in an emergency maybe it's better to have a try. The cages for the birds, the cat carriers, the food, the computer tower and guitar, meds, the red case with important papers and some underclothes and toiletries - guess that would be enough. No art materials, no books, no journals. We have one road out of here and as the house is surrounded by bush and we're on the side of a hill, we wouldn't have a chance. Actually, if it was just me and the animals and Richard were safe, I'd have a go. There's a cleared space in front and behind. There's ample water in the fire tank (unlike the house water tanks which are getting perilously low) so if I could access the fire tank water with multiple hoses, block the gutters (which I fortunately cleared out a month or so ago) and soaked everything - perhaps the house could be saved. It's the ember storm - travelling up to 12km - from the main fire which is the danger.
But of course, I wouldn't take the chance. One woman has already died trying to save her house. The other 2 were caught in their car. What a dreadful way to go. Richard and the animals need me so the responsibility to them is greater than my responsibility to the house.
Ack. To even be thinking these things. Like I'm going to attract a bushfire by thinking of it all the time. One attracts what one fears.
But I feel so helpless. Can't save the animals being burnt alive, can't feed the ones that are starving, can't make it rain. Sure there is a lesson in here somewhere. Like don't stress about what I can't control? Something like that I suppose. Hope next time I write here it's to complain about all the damn rain and the mold and high humidity and why I always have to wear gum boots coz it's so wet.
It's a tinderbox. Our rainforest is so dry, trees are dying from lack of water. Rainforest needs rain and lots of it. We've had so little. The ground crackles beneath my feet from bark and leaves. The scrub turkeys dig and scratch and find not much - the grubs and earthworms have either died or dug deeper. Have a bucket of water out for wallabies, turkeys and big birds like currawongs and a smaller birdbath for the wee birds. Saw the first bird use it today while making up the horse feed, a Leuwins Honeyeater. Now that one has found it, others will too. Putting out fruit leftovers for those interested. Always gone in the morning, save for mango pitts and watermelon rind.
Lay awake last night listing all the things I must take if we have to leave. With 7 birds, 3 cats, 1 dog and us, it won't be easy. At least we have the caddy which should hold everyone. Can't trust Richard to drive anymore although in an emergency maybe it's better to have a try. The cages for the birds, the cat carriers, the food, the computer tower and guitar, meds, the red case with important papers and some underclothes and toiletries - guess that would be enough. No art materials, no books, no journals. We have one road out of here and as the house is surrounded by bush and we're on the side of a hill, we wouldn't have a chance. Actually, if it was just me and the animals and Richard were safe, I'd have a go. There's a cleared space in front and behind. There's ample water in the fire tank (unlike the house water tanks which are getting perilously low) so if I could access the fire tank water with multiple hoses, block the gutters (which I fortunately cleared out a month or so ago) and soaked everything - perhaps the house could be saved. It's the ember storm - travelling up to 12km - from the main fire which is the danger.
But of course, I wouldn't take the chance. One woman has already died trying to save her house. The other 2 were caught in their car. What a dreadful way to go. Richard and the animals need me so the responsibility to them is greater than my responsibility to the house.
Ack. To even be thinking these things. Like I'm going to attract a bushfire by thinking of it all the time. One attracts what one fears.
But I feel so helpless. Can't save the animals being burnt alive, can't feed the ones that are starving, can't make it rain. Sure there is a lesson in here somewhere. Like don't stress about what I can't control? Something like that I suppose. Hope next time I write here it's to complain about all the damn rain and the mold and high humidity and why I always have to wear gum boots coz it's so wet.
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
Guitar lesson today. Still abysmal but marginally less abysmal than before. Perhaps rather than abysmal it's bysmal. Nick helped me with tempo, which, because I struggle with note finding - specifically D! - was good. Some of the music, no problem, others, where I find the fingering to be tricky - tempo goes out the window. Anyway, was pleased a few pieces played well - and the ones which pose problems, I have a solid foundation with which to practice.
Hot here today. Should be walking now but too hot for Mikaela. Have to get her little wading pool out and filled. Trying not to use water until this drought breaks. We had 20mm a few days ago but no follow up rain. Everything is still green here - after all we live in the Tweed Valley - but it's a false sense of security. The ground is quite dry, even the Tweed River is down. Surely the rains will come. Last year in October we had 300mm!
No writing today as after lesson and lunch picked up Richard and went shopping. Hard on him. He is especially tired after a day at the Men's Shed. He's been struggling the last few days, quite out of it. We had some hygiene issues yesterday and after boasting how I'd been keeping an even keel and just dealing with it and moving on, I got angry and frustrated. No excuse but he argues. I ask how can we deal with this, what would best help you to do the things that must need doing and if you can't do them, how about if I help? Nope. He says. Draws the line in the sand. As do I because we can't have the issues we had yesterday. It's not just me being prissy. It's hygiene. E. coli etc. Finally I lost it and as he argued I said, 'Go away. I mean it. Go away!' And then of course feel like a complete shit because he can't help how he is and it's up to me to be the adult. Sigh. It's a process.
All is well between us today. I do apologize after I've calmed down and he graciously accepts my apology.
On a lighter note. We've had 3 visiting cockatoos today. Wanted to attract them to entertain Richard. He misses Caruso still although he realizes releasing him was the right thing to do. Knew there were some newbies in the area for I saw a resident cockatoo trying to drive off one of the interlopers. The newbies have been quite vocal too. Don't know if they've come from out west where the drought drives them east or if they are released birds. The big male is either very bold (although cautious) or has known humans in the past. He listens attentively when I talk to him.
Hot here today. Should be walking now but too hot for Mikaela. Have to get her little wading pool out and filled. Trying not to use water until this drought breaks. We had 20mm a few days ago but no follow up rain. Everything is still green here - after all we live in the Tweed Valley - but it's a false sense of security. The ground is quite dry, even the Tweed River is down. Surely the rains will come. Last year in October we had 300mm!
No writing today as after lesson and lunch picked up Richard and went shopping. Hard on him. He is especially tired after a day at the Men's Shed. He's been struggling the last few days, quite out of it. We had some hygiene issues yesterday and after boasting how I'd been keeping an even keel and just dealing with it and moving on, I got angry and frustrated. No excuse but he argues. I ask how can we deal with this, what would best help you to do the things that must need doing and if you can't do them, how about if I help? Nope. He says. Draws the line in the sand. As do I because we can't have the issues we had yesterday. It's not just me being prissy. It's hygiene. E. coli etc. Finally I lost it and as he argued I said, 'Go away. I mean it. Go away!' And then of course feel like a complete shit because he can't help how he is and it's up to me to be the adult. Sigh. It's a process.
All is well between us today. I do apologize after I've calmed down and he graciously accepts my apology.
On a lighter note. We've had 3 visiting cockatoos today. Wanted to attract them to entertain Richard. He misses Caruso still although he realizes releasing him was the right thing to do. Knew there were some newbies in the area for I saw a resident cockatoo trying to drive off one of the interlopers. The newbies have been quite vocal too. Don't know if they've come from out west where the drought drives them east or if they are released birds. The big male is either very bold (although cautious) or has known humans in the past. He listens attentively when I talk to him.
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Days I get things done are wonderful days. Not busy-making days, although those are satisfying in their way too, but creative days. Of course days when I have worked on the book are the most satisfying. I used to aim for 1000 words a day. Now I am satisfied with 500. Stephen King writes 2000. If I had a wife I'd try for 2000 a day too. Yes, I could squeeze out extra time, not watch tv at night with Richard, not brush my elderly cats who don't groom as well as they used to, not waste time looking at greyhound rescue sites, as I did today, or check out the latest on Instagram, as I also did, or practice guitar, which I also did! or work on an entry for Inktober, ditto - but those things; lunch and the making of it, cleaning up after Richard (one of his bad days - but I kept my cool - so much better than before - find the good!) so this is my life and I'm glad to have it, with its more challenging bits included.
I did see a crimson rosella this morning and the writing went pretty well and the drawing is okay and the sky is blue, the day warm and I planted 5 chocolate fruit tree seeds - what's not to love?
Plus there was someone on Instagram admitting they don't like being hugged in a village where everyone hugs at every casual meeting. So I wrote ditto. I'm a better hugger than before but would prefer not to be hugged by anyone other than Richard. I love his hugs - everyone else? keep your hugs to home, thanks.
So off to practice yoga without which I'd stiffen up in no time. Have missed two consecutive days before and start to seize up. Use it or bloody well lose it!
I did see a crimson rosella this morning and the writing went pretty well and the drawing is okay and the sky is blue, the day warm and I planted 5 chocolate fruit tree seeds - what's not to love?
Plus there was someone on Instagram admitting they don't like being hugged in a village where everyone hugs at every casual meeting. So I wrote ditto. I'm a better hugger than before but would prefer not to be hugged by anyone other than Richard. I love his hugs - everyone else? keep your hugs to home, thanks.
So off to practice yoga without which I'd stiffen up in no time. Have missed two consecutive days before and start to seize up. Use it or bloody well lose it!
Monday, October 14, 2019
Strange dream (a bit of an understatement)
I dreamed of suicide again last night. No, I'm not in the least suicidal nor do I wake up depressed and angst ridden. Then of course dreaming of taking one's life is not to be pooh-poohed as of no consequence either. This time, and it was so vivid, it was my 2nd and 3rd husband, Wayne who did the deed. I had a small derringer which I gave to him, asking him if he would. So he shot me in the eye as a derringer isn't powerful and might not get through a thick skull. As I died I called out to the cats, I'm sorry! I love you. and felt terrible as I was shirking my responsibilities to everyone; Richard, the animals, esp. the animals as Richard wouldn't have the wherewithal to care for them
Then I saw myself fall forward. We'd been kneeling and I keeled over like that footage one sees of executed prisoners of war. I stood outside myself and watched me die. But of course I wasn't dead. I also felt bad because Wayne wanted to die too (he actually died years ago) but I couldn't shoot him as I was already dead.
Strange.
Then not so strange as it seems the dream is only reflecting what I feel. I feel trapped. Of course I do. I love Richard and will stay with him but if I didn't a bit constrained compared to the old age I'd envisioned, then I'd be abnormal.
And we all know I'm as normal as peanut butter.
Then I saw myself fall forward. We'd been kneeling and I keeled over like that footage one sees of executed prisoners of war. I stood outside myself and watched me die. But of course I wasn't dead. I also felt bad because Wayne wanted to die too (he actually died years ago) but I couldn't shoot him as I was already dead.
Strange.
Then not so strange as it seems the dream is only reflecting what I feel. I feel trapped. Of course I do. I love Richard and will stay with him but if I didn't a bit constrained compared to the old age I'd envisioned, then I'd be abnormal.
And we all know I'm as normal as peanut butter.
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