Chapter 555 - Too Tired But I Must Write

She is in bed now; since 1830 asleep, waking just before the Wild Dog Carer arrived at 1900, the nice one with a pleasant voice and a comforting presence. They get on well together. I took one of our swivel chairs into the bedroom so they can chat together. As I lifted her off the loo onto her wheel chair she was dripping with sweat; her legs were madly dyskinetic yet as soon as I laid her on her back on her bed she fell asleep and of course the dyskinesias stopped.

She had her first outing last Wednesday afternoon when we had our 'flu injections. The short drive to and from the surgery stressed her, not the injection. Neither of us has had any reaction to the injection.

The timber floor in the centre of the house was badly scratched with a pair of scissors, the joins between the timber seeming to be "dirt". Part of the carpet in her sewing room was again scraped with something and I found "string" protruding at the cupboard doors. I cut off the loose pieces. The hot plates of the stove had carbonised spills not easy to remove so I found a small but sharp cheese knife in the cutlery drawers for her to scrape away the carbon; when she finished I took away the knife after she decided to scrape around the enameled trim. A chrome plated tea strainer was found which, to her at least, had "dirt" beneath the edges of the wire filter mesh and its retaining ring. First the mesh was removed, and punctured, with a pair of small scissors the the retaining ring was prised away. The remainder was spot welded together so although these parts could not be removed, they were bent attempting to. I took some photos of the results. Initially as an object is on its way to becoming dismembered the reason is "dirt" when I ask but later her answer is non-committal or just a shrug of her shoulders. The panels knitted with thick wool some weeks ago are now being unpicked again, needing much cutting and tugging when knots are made. In consequence, many small balls are made and a lot goes into the bin. All these activities keep her occupied for hours and at times a day or two. I had cut 4 or 5 rose buds for her and over the course of a week the buds had fully bloomed; I replaced the water once or twice. This morning she must have decided the roses were finished, so all the petals were plucked off, leaving the stems, leaves and the small but bald centres in the vase.

During this lock down era of the plaque I frequently hear, on TV, grandmothers upset about being unable to have physical contact their with grandchildren. We have never experienced the joy of much contact with our seven grandchildren, all of whom are now adults, so what we never had we hardly miss. I can only wonder the causes; geographical distance, Parkinson's Disease, personalities? Much too late now for such is life.

I had a phone consultation with my clinical psychologist on Wednesday. I waffled about a few odd things that concern me such as the impact of elections in the so-called "Land of the Free" and minor, more relevant matters such as my feeling less stressed for not going down town yet not being motivated to being more productive with the time saved. I gather this is a common feeling for many people. Next time we will have a Zoom appointment, as we had on that same day for the Dementia Carers' Group.

Chapter 554 - Life's Little Bothers

To relieve the stresses I walk her in her wheel chair around our village several times each week. The walking is exercise for me and hopefully provides a visual distraction for her. Yesterday I heard her scraping a texture in the timber floor with a tea spoon; I said something regrettable "If you don't stop doing that I'll put you into Wild Dog Care" to which she immediately replied "You can't because they aren't accepting any more people". That comment puzzled me, she must have asked one of her Carers when they visited.

This morning I left an empty Benefiber plastic bottle at the end of the kitchen bench top. I intended to dispose of it in the recycling bin but she claimed it to "put things in"; then I found her picking the remnants of the paper seal from around the mouth of bottle before she then took up a knife to remove the "rough edges" and that resulted in slivers of plastic sticking up which needed cutting away. I took the bottle off her to smooth the raggedness with a file.

Our aged WiiFit has a technical problem I haven't bee able to fix; before our walk she decided to hide the Balance Board away in a cupboard, which meant rolling two DVD pillars out of the way; a torn cover on a DVD jewel case was noticed, which needed attacking to remove the rough edge, the case is pretty well wrecked now so I put it together a found a place for it in the stack. I then removed the Balance Board and all the bits and pieces of the Wii Fit from the TV cupboard, taking the components into the front room out of harm's way.

A few minutes ago she phoned me, unable to wheel herself out of her sewing room because she had blocked access to the door with boxes and trolleys where she had begun to sort balls of wool; already sorted and put away several weeks ago. Her legs were dyskinetic as I wheeled her to the loo for a piddle, then returned her to where she puts her feet up on a lounge chair; I initiated a bolus dose then put  the boxes and trolleys back in place without her noticing. The sewing room floor has buttons and odds and ends scattered where she has been "repairing" a pair of shoes for about a week now.

Last weekend, being Easter, several links to church services were sent to us, in this age of potted recordings during the lock downs. She watched 4 or 5, although I'm unsure how much of any. Our great grand daughter with her parents appeared in one service.

Easter Sunday morning I found a foil wrapped chocolate egg on the small metal table on our front porch. Assuming it was left as the Wild Dog carer left the night before as she left, I checked the intruder camera above the front door; but no it was not her and the camera captured nothing else until I went out the next morning. Later on walking around our Village we learned that others had also received eggs, including the manager who was thought to be the culprit, but he wasn't. I have tried several times since then to edge around the wall to the table without the camera or intruder light being triggered, but failed. I may have written before about two figurines on the garden wall in our rear courtyard being found broken; one was smashed down on the pavers whereas the other had been decapitated but only the head was on the pavers and the body was still on the wall. I had removed the two cameras out there because their batteries needed charging.

Last night I put her to bed, well before the Wild Dog carer arrived, because she was so distressed and hot from her leg dyskinesias. I'm unable to predict such phases, either of a morning or evening, when laying down in bed is the only relief for her. And then only relief when I am able to position her on her back or laying on either side with legs positioned, usually separated with a pillow until her body quietens then relaxes. Unfortunately, she is unable to roll her body from one side to the other without assistance. Fortunately her adjustable bed can be raised so that I don't strain my back, at least not much. I'm unsure whether positioning her in bed or just old age that cause my back to be slow to bend and in some pain.

I'm forever tired. One of these mornings I may just refuse to get up at 0600. I'm unable to break the habit of sleeping with an ear bud in my right ear listening to ABC RN all night to distract my thoughts should I wake, yet after 0400 I am alert enough to remember most of what I hear. I use an Amazon Alexa thingy to listen since my aged network radio failed a short time ago.

Chapter 553 - Without Rush and Stress

During this COVID-19 period of minimal social contact without a respite day, without Dance for Wellbeing, without speech therapy, without Sunday shopping trips, without supermarket visits my life is largely stress free. In hindsight I am surprised how stressful leaving the house has been; taking her to the toilet, having her clean her teeth, ensuring she wore appropriate clothes, transferring her in and out of the car, finding wheel chair friendly car parking, pushing her wheel chair around the shops, occasionally taking her to a "disabled" toilet, buying suitable food and drink for her at restaurants, often hurrying home for the toilet, has been for me. And I believe for her as well, including driving hazards, especially round-abouts which terrify her. And for quick trips out alone (such as collecting her Duodopa monthly order of 56 cassettes as I did last Wednesday), I am always rushed to return as quickly as possible, hoping that she will press alarm buttons should she experience problems or should I be gone too long, assuming she realises how long I have been away.

As I think on such matters, I am puzzled that I am not more actively busy at home digitising designs or researching family history, maybe putting my records in better order, or even making use of the new camera I bought ages ago. But no, I have done none of that in the last couple of weeks. Although I have sorted books and folders in my "dungeon" (although it gathers more and more loose sheets of paper, books and stuff, just like dust), cleaned the front room where my sewing machines are, allowing reasonable access to the three workbenches. And resolved a couple of technical problems. And a few loads of washing each week. Perhaps I am slowing down as I approach my last furlong.

The scratches on the rear of her legs healed at long last, remaining scabby. Last Monday she woke from sleep describing a dog outside the window; perhaps a dream rather than hallucination. her sewing room carpet was attacked, rubbing out the pile into fluff balls again and some rearranging of storage units. An occasional knitting session, extending those plain panels in very thick wool. She spent several days hand stitching the straps on the grey shoes she mostly wears, adding press studs because the velcro is worn.

Our morning here is sunny, windy, cool and blue-grey clouds threaten yet we intend to walk around to the local cafe where drive through or take-away service seems to be provided. If not, a healthy walk on a socail isolation day.