Chapter 594 - Can Anyone Know?

 I spent 2 hours speaking with the Customer Relations Consultant at Wild Dog on Tuesday 27th April about our financial position and the costs involved in a single room with en-suite at their establishment. I probably revealed too much detail about our funds but what the hell, the whole exercise of funding Residential Care is controlled by rules laid down by the government manipulated by strategies to suit each case. I have attended three, perhaps four, presentations given by CentreLink experts, one of which stated that he must have sat through maybe ten such presentations before he fully understood the subject. In our case, the funding will be from our Self Managed Superannuation Fund which contains a large proportion of market valued investments and pays us a pension the amount of which is set at or above a yearly determined minimum percentage of the Fund value, as set by the government. Without using confusing buzz words about which I have a muddy understanding, Residential Care can be funded by a lump sum refundable "loan", a daily non-refundable fee or a combination of the two. And I almost forgot, a daily fee to fund those little extras that the living need to make the act of living worthwhile, beginning with a single room with en-suite (who would wish otherwise, coping with the noises, gaseous, fluid and solid emanations of strangers?). In our case our Fund is too small to fund a lump sum, therefore our estate will decrease with time as daily fees are paid. Tough on expectant heirs. While one of us remains living in the family home (in our case  leased) the value of the home is not considered an asset.  Our government funded part Age Pension Age Pensions will continue. I vaguely see that a degree of strategic thinking is needed to balance  the needs of each partner, one outside, the other inside the "Institution" (there, I said the word) with pensions and assets. And note that what I have written above assumes that one of us, either me or her, blissfully remains in a state of Independent Living. I have arrived at about my "Use by Date" although I'm unsure whether the Life Expectancy figures refer to a male born today or someone born in the year I was. Should I be concerned? Not much I can do about it, as evidenced by our demised house cleaner, a brother-in-law, and a 2nd cousin each of which departed without any fan fare.

A few mornings ago as I was drying parts of my anatomy after showering, a mouse decided to escape across my feet out the bathroom door; the sight may have been too much for the little thing. After dressing, and without telling her about the small animal wishing to be our tenant now that the weather has turned cold, I placed 4 rodent baits in out-of-the-way positions in the house, one being beneath the fridge. Some hours later she became concerned when she thought she saw the mouse. I told her I had laid baits and the mouse would soon be gone. I am yet to find its final resting place. Late that day when I packed the dish washer I noticed that the door on the detergent dispenser was shut and wondering whether the block of detergent may have become stuck on the previous was cycle, although I had not noticed that any plates etc had been dirty or smeared, I popped open the little door. Inside was the block of wax of the bait I had tossed beneath the fridge. When I first asked, she denied knowing anything about it, then told me she found the block of bait on the floor and since it was the correct size and thinking "dish washer detergent", had fitted it into the dispenser. I presume the mouse may have dragged the bait out from beneath the fridge. I try not to contemplate the stomach pains we may have experienced.

For about 2 days she pulled threads from a square of loosely woven fabric, making a design of crossed lines (I suppose there is a name for doing this) until all that was left were the removed threads in a pile. She enjoys folding the Coles grocery bags into small squares held in piles by rubber bands. The piles are given to one of the Wild Dog Carers who passes them onto a woman who has an incontinent daughter whose pads and pants are placed in the Coles bags. Back here at our place, I buy rolls of thin plastic bags for the same purpose. A Wild Dog carer showed her how to fold the Coles bags into triangles and using the handles on the bags to hold the triangles together without unfolding. She tried to emulate the method and failed so returned to her own method. One night she asked for a crochet hook and a ball of wool to make some circles; she blamed the wool for being "knotty" for her failure. She has lost interest in listening to book readings, perhaps because any I have found online from the library, although classified as "romance" are rather explicit, course and violent; I must search again for her preferred Mills & Boon stories. Today I found her with her wheelchair parked in the kitchen alcove with a small sharp serrated knife in hand about to do damage to the joins in the wooden flooring; she looked guilty when I discovered her.

The clinic nurse at West Beer sent a script for Kenacomb  ointment to be applied to the granulation of the stoma and Bepanthen ointment to the excoriated skin around the stoma. Although sent by Express Post, Australia Post took 7 days to deliver the envelope. There seems to have been a slight improvement since beginning this treatment from last Thursday night, twice each day.

I have decided to cancel the appointment for her to see a specialist about her anal prolapse. Regular laxative and fibre products are maintaining soft turds, although often there are marbles again but not rabbit sized firm ones that tend to bounce on the floor.

Some nights I am frequently woken by her leg dyskinesias rattling her bed. Even though the neurologist told me that a person is awake when dyskinesia occurs he is clearly wrong, because I can often roll her onto her back or to one side or the other without her eyes opening or speaking to me while dyskinesia is in full force until positioned comfortable and maybe rubbing of her legs.

I have unfortunately formed the habit of waking between 0000 and 0200 whether or not she has dyskinesia, trying to fruitlessly do mindfulness exercises, reading, listening to Radio National or audio ebooks with little success. Ruminating about her condition, appointments, jobs to do, items to buy etc etc all keep me awake. My Lumosity scores have plummeted, I find I forget things - for instance some days ago my bunch of keys fell apart; I could not remember what had held the car key, 3 or 4 house keys, bank dongle, garage door remote opener, letter box key and nail clippers together in a jumble and whatever had done so had left no traces of its construction. After several days I threaded the lot together with a tie wrap; perhaps that was what was originally used, I have no idea. Similar forgotten things have happened I am sure.

I see no reason to "put her away". For my health perhaps yet in the past when away for work reasons I became lonely and depressed quite quickly, perhaps living in hotel rooms causes that. All I need is a transfer device, a powered version of a Sara Stedy with seat pads so that transferring her is a one man job without having to strain. My arms continue to exhibit RSI like problems and sometimes she complains of shoulder pain. What a shame that the professionals failed to notice the deteriorating condition of her left foot soon enough even though I kept bringing it the the attention of her then neurologist.

I have been writing this note on and off during the day. Now with the time at 1940 I need to resist the temptation to sleep even though my mental state needs me to shut down and sleep at this early hour. I notice I keep making typos so hopefully all have been corrected. Perhaps I will search for her preferred type of love story. Best I check on her first.