I’m in Wales looking after mum while my sister, brother in law and the boys are enjoying a well earned holiday in Turkey. It’s a full time job looking after mum. You wouldn’t think an 88 year old woman could be such hard work. I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone for long. Her falls have become more frequent and she’s very frail. She does however have a huge appetite, which is a relief. She doesn’t have an appetite for life anymore though and who could blame her? I suspect she’s in quite a lot of discomfort and perhaps some pain and I’m certain the negative thoughts are on a continuous loop.
It’s day 3. I’ve asked her every day if she wants to do anything or if she’ll come for some air. She’s got a wheelchair now but I don’t think she’s used it yet. It’s parked in the garage, waiting, wheels poised still wrapped in their protective plastic packaging, ready for action and adventure – maybe a couple of hours at the seaside and a Mr Whippy or a trip to the shops. She doesn’t seem interested though so I won’t force the issue, but I’ll offer it up every day. I think we’d have fun.
I went for a walk at midday down to the stream and felt my mood lift after 10 minutes. I feel very unsettled here and it’s hard to get any focus. I need to practice and maintain some sort of routine so I’ve bought quite a lot of stuff and it’s all over the place – nothing’s where it should be. I packed my weights of course and it was arms and shoulders this morning. Did I feel like doing them? Probably not but I’m even more determined to stay strong after seeing how mum’s ageing. It’s legs tomorrow 😮💨 but my reward will be a walk in some picturesque scenery.
Picturesque scenery
I’d walk for miles every day given half a chance. I feel slightly frustrated since Snowdon’s right there, a mere hour away. I asked earlier what time’s best for me to go out – the underlying message being what time are you most likely to fall?!! I have no idea how I’d react if she did but I’d rather be here. I purposely didn’t pack any serious walking gear to avoid the temptation of a longer walk, but the urge is there and it’s strong.
I’m so used to just thinking for myself that it can feel restrictive being responsible for another person, especially an elderly mother. There’s always something to do, even more so than when I’m at mine. Plants to water, bins to put out, animals to feed. I can’t switch off. I can’t at mine either mind you. I haven’t turned the telly on yet. I’d rather be outside. That’s my switch off zone.
I wish mum could see the magnificent hills, feel the lush grass under her feet, watch the sleepy cows grazing half heartedly in the sweltering midday sun, feel the refreshing coolness of the flowing stream water through her fanned (arthritic) fingers. Mother knows best, although she’d definitely benefit from exposure to a few rays of sunshine.
I go to her room and her head is bowed in contemplation. The osteoporosis makes her look like a table top. She went back to bed this morning. She said she still felt tired. I didn’t question it. She had a nap late yesterday afternoon while I was getting dinner ready. 5 minutes before I plated, I knocked but she was fast asleep. She stirred briefly and asked if it was time to go to work. Gulp.
It might be selfish of me but it’s made me think even more about how I want to go. If I had a choice, it’d be by heart attack halfway down Snowdon. Please 🙏
It absolutely blooming categorically definitely wouldn’t be death by cow stampede, which almost happened during my walk on Friday evening. I crossed a field on a well trodden footpath and halfway, a herd of cows took an interest in me. I walked on as calmly as I could. With a third of the field remaining, they somewhat disconcertingly gathered speed. I walked faster. So did the cows. I broke into a trot. They did too! I legged it towards the gate as fast as I could and got there by the skin of my teeth.
It’s Thursday evening already and I have no idea where this busy week has gone. Let’s roll back to last weekend when I went walking with my 2 bubble buddies, Gareth and Sue. The weather was very poor with strong horizontal winds and pelting rain, and there was even a bit of snow on the tops above the village. More than half way through our 9 mile walk I suddenly saw the stony muddy ground hurtling towards me. Things went into slow mo as they do when you fall. When I realised what had happened and became aware of the pain in my right elbow, I promptly burst into tears and swore prolifically. I swear that swearing helps ease the pain and dissipate any uncomfortable feelings. After wallowing in a muddy puddle of self pity and ascertaining that nothing was broken, I was back on my feet and on we walked. We got to a bench and I wanted to inspect my injuries but the rain started up again so we walked to the next village where we found a bus shelter to have a brew and a hot cross bun.
It was a good walk through some beautiful scenery but I was distracted and ready for home. Back at REH HQ I checked my elbow (grazed) and a bruise was developing nicely. I wasn’t in any pain though. Back in the day when I had lots of rehearsals and performances, I was quite averse to walking. I didn’t see the point and I took the car even for the shortest trips. Falling was a concern – what if I fell and sprained an ankle or broke a wrist? I wouldn’t be able to play and basically I wouldn’t survive. Well, I disproved this self imposed myth on Sunday morning by doing 2 very productive fruitful hours’ work with little pain or discomfort. So walking and running are here to stay, at least until the pools open again. Why deny myself the pleasure of being in the great outdoors at one with nature?
There’s definitely been a change in the weather and we’ve had more springlike days which always boosts the spirits. The feeling of warm sun is like a balm to the skin and seeing buds burst into blossom holds such hope and optimism. I’m counting the sleeps before celebrating losing an hour in bed next Saturday night. We desperately need a great Summer and while I’m sure it will be like no other Summer we’ve experienced, there are already indications that we will have more freedom than we’ve had during the past few months.
I finally had my bedroom painted in February. That’s been a long drawn out project. Pinning down the painter took some doing. Tradespeople have really benefited from our desire to make our home environments more pleasant places in which to spend the additional time we have at our disposal. Could I become a DIY person? No chance! I can do quite a lot if I set my mind to it but in the long run, it definitely costs me less to pay someone experienced to do a job that would take me months and would cause me so much angst and stress! I can play the harp. I’m fluent in music and I’m good with languages. I can cook and clean. Practicality, however, isn’t my strong suit and that’s why I’m prepared to pay an experienced and knowledgeable professional to do a brilliant job.
Anyway, my bedroom walls look great but I’m still sleeping in the spare room as I need to sort out the flooring. I got a quote for carpet and it prompted me to pursue the route I really want to take – having the old characterful floorboards sanded and varnished. I’m getting a quote this weekend. Everything seems to take twice the time I’d factored in. I’m looking forward to sleeping in my bedroom again and waking up to this spectacular view:
Up early before my shift yesterday, I had a strong urge to get out so off I went, my feet clad in trail shoes and I walk-ran 4 miles. It was so invigorating to be outdoors bright and early. Despite tripping over a thorny tangled tendril of undergrowth and finding myself on the floor AGAIN (I was grateful for a soft peaty landing this time), this outing gave me so much energy for the entire day even after I’d worked the late shift the previous night. I was chirpy, cheerful and chatty at work. I go on about exercise because I know how it now plays a fundamentally important part my life. I haven’t been out today – I’m grounded as I have a lot to do here and I need to save my energy for a longer walk on Saturday, and I have some practice to do tomorrow of course. And I don’t want to be grounded again!
I fear that this blog post may include a Rare Bit of ranting but it’s my blog so I can rant if I want to and you, dear readers can read if you want to.
So far 2020 has been challenging to say the least. I do remember easier times but I was probably very young or blissfully ignorant. Or ignorantly blissful. I’m not sure. You tell me! The year has as yet failed to deliver the bounty I’d 2020 envisioned but it’s early days I reckon. Magic takes time to brew properly.
Last week I was very unwell and had to visit my GP more times than I care to mention as well as a specialist. I don’t do ill and I rarely visit my GP as (touch wood) I don’t need to. I am very healthy and I take good care of myself but perhaps I had been pushing too hard and my body made me stop and take stock? Whatever, I am back and on fighting form this week and ready to go low before rising up. Going low is a very important part of the process, it’s a sort of obligatory review so that I can improve my performance and enjoy some good times as I embrace my creative side. I haven’t really stopped since last Thursday. A sob is brewing, as is a bloody good stomp up and down some local hills.
Does 3pm on a Wednesday mark the start of my weekend? Does my week ever end? I haven’t figured it out yet but with the shitload of notes I have to learn, it’s more a case of an hour snatched here and there and if I’m lucky, a half day.
Work has been particularly challenging recently with some repercussions arising from my illness but I’ve felt confident enough to express my concerns to the right people in the right way and matters are now contained. Working part time in a rather alien job will always be a fine balancing act and in order to give my best performance there, I have to let go of worrying about my most precious musical assets – my hands. Tonight, as I prepare mentally for 4 days of exciting new dots, stripes and indications, I look down at the paper and cardboard lacerations from dismantling the reinforced boxes I struggle to crack open and allow them time to heal. I bemoan the sore soles of my Skechered feet. I never practice on a Wednesday evening. My head’s not right never mind my body.
Did you know I have a house in Wales? Wow, that’s amazing, you may well think. Lucky bitch, you may think. Think again. It’s the first house I bought, a quaint and characterful 2 up 2 down with small cottage gardens at the front and back. I’ve been renting it out since 2007 and it helped me finance my postgraduate studies and the mortgage for the house I currently live in. The latest tenant, a creative arty type who paid 6 months rent upfront at the start of her tenancy and looked good enough on paper, has turned out to be a bit of a nutbag. She stopped paying rent properly last year and has been receiving assistance from a government body. I am owed a significant amount of money, money with which I could do a myriad of wonderful things, top of the list a proper holiday. Did someone mention Santorini? I wish! I had to take the tenant to court last month, using up my precious paid leave. More money, more expense. I quite enjoyed the court experience though, despite my concerns beforehand. It wasn’t at all like what you see on telly and I felt pleased to have someone take my side and point out the error of her ways.
Yesterday was eviction day at the Rare Bit house and you know what? She’s still there. She hasn’t budged. More hardship, more going without the small luxuries I might like to indulge in, and I’m scrimping on everyday basics I need. I’m fucked off. I’m seriously fed up. I might get to go back to court though.
I’m so fed up I’m going for a run. Running doesn’t solve my problems but it allows me to empty my head and rid myself of some of the aggressive energy I have pent up inside me. I’d like to do things to this woman which belie my kind and generous nature. You don’t fuck with Rare Bit.
I share a lot of Alain de Botton’s content on my Facebook page, somewhat selfishly as I enjoy checking his stuff out late at night after work. A lot of his work resonates strongly. Maybe we’re of a similar age. I wish he’d do a short video or write a piece called “Why do people act like arseholes?”
I finally figured out my 16 going on 17 year old cat has gone completely deaf. I googled it. Her meows have amplified in volume since Christmas. She can’t hear herself. I bloody can! She sleeps in a deep coma for hours on end and doesn’t hear me call her when she’s awake. She sounds aggrieved and frantic whenever she sees me. I’m afraid that other than an escorted walk round the block which she loves so much when the weather picks up, she’ll have to stay in to avoid being chased by dogs, cats and cars. Llwyd has always been bold, lolling in the sunshine in the middle of the street outside our house, strutting past the house at the end of the terrace with a pack of loudly barking Rottweilers enclosed behind just high enough fencing. Can’t catch me, she glares at them teasingly.
Let sleeping cats lie. Preferably on top of great music
I could moan about all my woes and make this whingeing Wednesday but I’d rather make it whoopee Wednesday which will lead to triumphant Thursday. Expression is the most important thing. Nobody wants to read about the shit you’re going through but it fucking helps to get it out in black and white. If you’re still reading, well done!
I bumped into the bin man again on my way to work today. We chatted and he said I’m always smiling. Little does he fucking know but in all honesty I feel better when I smile so fuck it. : D
Last Sunday, I played 2 solo spots in a concert I’d been looking forward to since I was invited. I had carefully chosen a programme of tried and tested pieces from my repertoire and I’d included a piece I’ve wanted to relearn properly which feels semi biographical. Illness prevented me from playing at what I felt was my best but I played the best I could have under the circumstances. Sounds like I’m making excuses and I detest that. A perfectionist with an obsession about detailed preparation, I felt more defenceless than usual in an unfamiliar situation. I winged it more than I like winging it and vowed never to play rough and ready like that again. Two days prior to the gig, I was in 2 minds about asking someone to replace me. I’d already been paid. It was like a rollercoaster ride gone wrong.
The performance was eventful to say the least but there were some special moments. It took place in a church with huge windows looking out on gardens with a labyrinth and there were snowdrops and daffodils.
Every half hour or so the heating would come on and I started sweating profusely. My harp dug her heels in and refused to stay in tune despite 3 efforts at retuning, blowing hot and cold back at me with a passion. I unwillingly refused to be seduced from my tuning efforts with a half dozen attempts by concerned individuals to ply me with tea and cake in the interval. I had to hold back on answering questions from curious members of the audience who were intrigued and fascinated by my harp. You’ll get a chance after the interval, I promised.
On stage, poised for Act 2, I got a sinking feeling when I couldn’t find my playing specs. Dashing around looking for them took almost 5 minutes but everyone was good humoured about it and I got a round of applause when I finally returned to the stage after finding them in the changing room and not with my harp, where I thought I’d left them.
My Q&A session began by spinning my harp around and asking “Have you ever seen the backside of a harp?” which prompted much gasping followed by a wave of laughter and several interesting questions. I thought my playing was poor by my standards, but my audience engagement has improved massively and I really enjoyed public speaking, maybe for the first time. The playing will follow suit for sure.
Time to run, need to work up an appetite…
I’m back! Hearing the hypnotic hoot of the owl which welcomed me as I stepped outside and seeing the moon slightly fuller than half way reflects my feelings. Problems? What problems? I don’t give a hoot anymore.
Rare Bit Blogging 