General Chat

Thats a lovely poem Ingrid. We are all so busy that we often don't stop and think , and as the poem says, look.

Pass the towel Huia!

Sorry Huia, it does the same to me.

Just thought I would share it as sometimes it pays to remember.

As to the 95yr old, if she gets agitated about her mother it could calm her to say that her mum is shopping and will be back soon.
In my role as a carer I have found this will usually calm people down. I have been a mother,brother,husband & daughter all in the space of 1 hour with a client. While visiting a client in hospital recently another patient came to me as if I was the doctor as she wasn't getting what she wanted from the nurses. Luckily I am trained in Dementia and we got the patient back to her room even if it was only for a little while,


Enjoy your day.

Every time I read that poem I start blubbing. But in the hospital I look around at all the old folk there and think 'you were once young, and lively, and loved and loving'. One 95 yrs old woman keeps asking where her mother is.

Must go and get some towels to mop the keyboard, then wash the brekky dishes and get ready to go to town for the day.

Huia.

I agree with Jean. When caring for someone at home you don't notice the deterioation as much as it is just part of everyday. Once in residential care and you are not there 24hrs a day it does appear worse.

Sorry to hear Phil has had a fall & a fracture, hopefully it will heal quickly for him.

Hugs to all caring for loved ones.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . . . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . . . . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food .. . .. . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . .. 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not .. . . . . . . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . . you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am . . . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . . . . . . who love one another

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . ... . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . . . . .. My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons .. . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . . . . . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, . . . . . . ..Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . .. . . . . And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . . . . . and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. . . . ... . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone .. . . . . .. . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . .. A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . .. . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . .. . . . . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . .. . . . . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years . all too few . . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . . . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man . Look closer . . . . see . . . . . .. . ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within . . . . . we will all, one day, be there, too!

PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM
The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart.

Sometimes its obvious now because you are away from the problems of having him at home Not to say people do detiorate away from the intensive care you have given them at home, which just cant be done in a nursing home.

When I visited Phil yesterday morning he was asleep (so whats new?) in his chair. After 10-15 mins he spat out a couple of pills onto his lap so I put them on the table and pointed them out to the attendant. She didnt do anything but a little while later another came in and she gave him the pills and a drink so I hope he swallowed them.

I sometimes wonder if his brain would have deteriorated quite so quickly if I had kept him at home. When he went into the public hospital he kept wanting to come home or go for walks and was trying to break out so they sedated him. Whether it was the sedatives or the frustration that affected him I dont know. But if he hadnt gone into care I would have been a cot case and then he would have had to go into care anyway.

Another family whose husband and father was in there at the same time as Phil, and who is now in the same private hospital say they were shocked at how rapidly their h/f deteriorated in the public hospital. Like Phil he has also had a fall and broken his hip. I am not letting these things worry me though. Life is too short and my worrying wont make things better anyway.

Huia.

Liz, was it a Kowhai Ngutukaka? That is the red kowhai or parrots beak. Not a climber. Otherwise I am wracking my brains trying to think what it might have been. Apart from the native clematis and passion vine and supplejack and parsonsia, I cant think of any other climbers, and I doubt if any of those would be available in nurseries over there.

Huia (who will probably be awake half the night going over the native plants in her head).

Hello Huia, I am sorry that Phil has broken a bone in his pelvis and hope it does heal well - poor man is suffering isn't he? Good thing the problem has been identified now tho and hope he doesn't have any more falls.

The diary idea sounds great, I used to jot things down in my diary, even if only brief comments and of course apptmts and such but now I have apptmts on my calender (so think of you each time I use it) and just have a small pocket diary in my handbag to refer to if out and need info or put a new phone number in or something.

I have been trying to think of the name of a shrub/tree that I got a few years ago at a plant sale, it was a N.Z. plant but as I wasn't at home much and I had left it in a pot in my garden, I think it has probably long gone now. It was a Watakaka or something sounding like that I think. Would have grown up the outside wall of the house if kept covered from frost.

You take care of yourself. I am glad you found the corpse of the mouse and got rid of it before things got too yukky!

love to all

Lizx

Presumably you are all busy getting ready for Christmas. Yesterday I had to hunt for a corpse in the bedroom before I could go to town. The cat had released a live mouse in there last week, but the smell told me that it was no longer live. Luckily I found it before it had liquified.

Phil has broken a bone is his pelvis. They cant do anything for it, but it should heal in 4 - 8 weeks (I think she said).

I think I might make my diary a loose leaf one so I can add to it when I remember other things. But all I will do at this stage is print things off the websites that I have been on, just in case they get whooshed, and put them into a clear file so that when I have got the 'junk' properly sorted (and a lot ditched) and I have more time to spare I can get stuck into my 'diary'.

Huia aka Sneezy in the panto on these boards.

Norma-dripping-wet-from-sitting-under-the-kowhai-in-the-rain, I had a call several weeks ago to say Phil had had a fall but they didnt think he had injured himself. I am wondering if it was just a minor crack which has been grating every time he walks and now it has become bigger or infected. I suppose I will hear from the hospital sometime.

I have just printed off the 6 pages from my 'personal diary thread' on the other website. I might get a large spiral bound book and cut and paste the pages in (removing the ads etc). I will also print any relevant pages from this website to put in my new 'diary'. Perhaps I should make it a loose-leaf album, in case more than one family member wants a copy when I am 'gone'.

Dad kept a loose-leaf diary complete with photos, maps, newspaper cuttings etc. I have made 10 copies of each page for various people. It is a real treasure, dates from the time of their marriage in 1924, right up to the year he retired and died, 1965. If anybody comes to visit I usually show them the photocopied version (original pages need protecting, I will probably give them to Auckland Library sometime).

Huia.

Hi Huia.

Hope Phil is Okay - Did he fall over?
I thought you would have kept a diary as you do seem to get about. I hope all that you have put on the Rotorua thread you have kept on file. Though now that I have met you - I think you may have several copies.
Fondest

Norma under a Kowhai - no cancel that it is raining here.

Jean, I know what you mean. I was asked recently if I kept a diary. I said I had tried a few years ago, but I couldnt see much point in writing in it that I had washed the breakfast dishes, made the bed, swept and dusted etc etc etc, day after day, only the occasional 'went shopping' and just sometimes something a bit more interesting. By the time Phil retired and we were able to do more things I just didnt think of keeping a diary. But now, I keep one one these boards, and an illustrated one on another on another website which nobody else visits now. I must print those pages off, just in case the site vanishes.

Huia.

Probably here on the British isles we are all so fed up with the torrential rain we have had for weeks that we have little of interest to tell anyone. Drying washing indoors without a dryer, getting soaked going out to the dustbin, wet cats and dogs, if they will go out at all! Arthritis and joint pains due to wet, a catologue of everyday miseries, not interesting!

I thought it was time I bumped this up, just to see if everybody is alright. Phil has a fracture, not sure whether it is leg, hip or ankle. I couldnt find a nurse to talk to, but apparently the hospital doc wants an orthopedic doc to look at him.

Huia.

Bob, we have a cage trap but we could never catch possums in it as there was so much other food for them. When DOC (or parks) were doing poisoning a few years back somebody put a Timms trap on our property as part of the poisoning programme, but it never caught anything. We did once catch a long-haired cat in our trap, it seemed to be wild, but I phoned all the neighbours for some distance and when nobody laid claim to it I shot it as we didnt want it living off the native birds, since there are the fairly rare Kokako in our bush. It was probably dropped off in the area by somebody from town. We get plenty of that sort of thing. A couple of years ago there were about a dozen chooks and roosters at the top of the hill, obviously somebody in town had to get rid of them.

Huia.

Huia

We used to get possums taking the peaches and nectarines. I got a possum cage (but you can now get probably better traps which do the killing as well) baited it with an apple and put it on the low roof to the shearing shed. When I caught one I would then drown it in a trough which now seems like a stupid idea for it could have spread TB to the cattle. My later idea was to put the cage in a large plastic bag and put the open end over the car exhaust pipe. The carbon-monoxide would do the job quickly and efficiently. If any have misgiving about this action, there are 70 million of these introduced critters still thriving in the country and the only good thing about them is their fur which when blended with fine merino wool makes what is called here "Mountain Silk" and jerseys made of this fibre are very light and warm.

Bob

Alas, we cant grow fruit trees here. Well we can, but we dont get any fruit from them as the possums and birds and possibly rats usually beat us to them before they are ripe enough. Even the lemon tree gets stripped of leaves and fruit.

But our pohutukawa is covered in buds this year. Last year it had only a few flowers. Our Kowhai also had quite a few flowers this year. We have a Tui sipping the nectar of the Rewarewa flowers. The Tui also loves the weigelia.

Having visitors soon, so must get moving.

Huia.

Bob, we have a crab apple. It is lovely in flower and also when the coloured apples are on until Dec, if the blackbirds dont have them all before then. Ours is in a tub, and is going into an even bigger tub come Jan, when all the apples are gone.

Huiainapohutukawa

Make sure you do not fall out of that tree or if you do, it is into some deep waters below. We used to have a rope on one of ours that we could swing out on. Great Fun!
Now here is something, I have to admit as having done as a schoolboy visiting my grandma at Kirikopuni North Auckland. Not many have. Have you ever tasted the wonderful soft centre of a Nikau palm? I think the young Maori farm worker must have told us about it. The trouble is the tree then dies. I think we only did the one.
When we farmed in our retirement I gained a greater sense of the visual qualities of the Manuka, Kanuka and Kahikatea particularly and planted many in the cottage garden for shelter from the westerlies which swept over from the Kaipara Harbour. Well there is no rule which says that a cottage garden has to be English. I had the natives for shelter and nearer the house Box hedging (you might call it Buxus) Lonicera Nitida (Aren't I just a clever one) and several varieties of Crab Apple and of course roses even to the extent of climbing roses over the cattle race and at the side of the loafer barn. The cottage had been either a pull-down one or the other sort. Rightly or wrongly we decided to not let it be turned into furniture. We had seventeen happy but also hard-working years there. Blood, sweat and many tears (in my hands repairing barbed wire fencing) not the other sort that I can recall.

Bob