Do you ever sit and think that your life lurches from one crisis to another?
2020 has been a bastard year for the world, although we are doing okay here in Western Australia (thanks in no small part to our Premier Mark McGowan who has shut our state off from almost everyone else with a very hard border), despite the good Covid-19 figures we have here, it doesn’t mean we haven’t been affected. My daughter has found the first half of the year pretty tough, unable to settle, asking the big questions of what she wants to do with her left etc etc, it appears my mermaid daughter no longer wants to work in the ocean. I feel some small concern about this, although the path she is now looking at has also been one of her main interests for years, so hopefully enthusiasm and direction are just around the corner for her.
She is still at home with me (and champing at the bit to leave, which is only appropriate for a 22 year old ), unfortunately limited resources are forcing her to stay a while longer. We had just sorted out a comfortable, minimalist-ish shared home when someone up above had a laugh and said, “Yeah? Nuh, here comes a whammy from left field”.
My dear Mum (91 in October) has had her third major health crisis in three years. My brothers and I have been hoping she would move closer to us, although moving house at that age is perhaps a ridiculous thought. We have been visiting her as often as possible (her home is 3+ hours drive away) and had organised support to help maintain her independence and her home in between visits.
So a couple of weeks ago Mum ‘phoned me and asked me to drive down and take her to the doctor (remember the 3 hour drive?). She was clearly very ill and I urged her to go to hospital (she initially refused as she was sure she would be wasting their time). In the end, a lift was organised and she was admitted with pneumonia and heart failure. She was in hospital for a week (half the time in isolation until her Covid swabs came back negative) and during that time she expressed a need for more care, suggesting she go into an aged-care facility.
NO WAY JOSE!!!
So over the course of a day, my craft room was reorganised into a bedroom for her and she is now living with me, she is still quite ill but getting better every day.
I am exhausted but grateful that I could this for her, I think she is happy to be with me and she knows we are happy to take her home for visits when she wants to go, so I think this just might work. Mum is as sharp as a tack, although her body has let her down over the years, so the care is all physical (and I say thank goodness that I took a detour into nursing as a younger person). My dogs drive her crazy, but the younger one has adopted her and keeps her company through the day (I think secretly Mum doesn’t really mind), she has access to 2 libraries and we are currently enjoying a Welsh series on Netflix (did I say Mum is Welsh?). She is gradually learning to use her new IPad, although she misses her ageing (and largely obsolete) IMac and she has decided a new mobile ‘phone would be a good move as hers is past it’s use-by date.
She is a cracker, with a very black sense of humour and we love her bits.
But I can’t have cereal for dinner anymore as I now have to cook for someone again.