It's been a week.
Have you ever noticed that when you really clean a house, I mean REALLY - skirting boards, behind radiators,everything - you start to notice all the little things that need doing. Like the worn patch on the stair carpet, the cat claw marks on the banister, the fact that a pile of leaves has gathered outside the front door?
So, why all the cleaning? Well, I wanted the house valued, and most everyone (apart from Mum cos I didn't tell her the real reason because then she'd panic and worry) agreed. Nice chap from a local estate agents popped round. I'm well aware of our home's short comings, the fact that it is rather tired and in need of a fresh coat of paint, some new carpets etc. But when he came out with his valuation my heart sank. I know, 5 years ago, it was worth around £250k. I had thought with the railway opening soon, it would at least have maintained that, but no. In his opinion we'd be lucky to get £195k. *sigh*
You see, I'd seen a place on the west coast, in a village, with a wee pickle land and I could place folks in the rooms - so I'd made an appointment to view.
However, with that evaluation, my heart really wasn't in it. But Sally and I still went- it was a day out after all. A heck of a trek and with time constraints because of Mum and Dad's evening medications. No time to stop and stare and just enjoy, photos out the car window, though we did pause once or twice. All I heard from my Guides was "build your own" - fair enough but we can't do that while Mum and Dad are still alive because we'd need to liquidate this place and then buy the land... mind you, there are a fair few plots of land available on the west coast - can't live in a caravan with Mum and Dad, not with their medical issues. Fingers crossed there's a nice plot available when we're ready.
*sigh*
Then dad had his diabetic check up with the hospital. The pulse in his left leg is almost gone - not at all sure what we can do about that, but, because of his dry skin, I've been massaging his legs twice a day - his legs seem to be a bit warmer, maybe that's all it needs? But he doesn't listen to warnings about the amount of sugar he's consuming. *sigh*
However, the 2 day purge on cleaning and a LONG day up north, had a heavy toll. It wasn't until Friday midday that I started to feel even a normal amount of pain & energy.
2 weeks on Monday & I get my next B12. And, with that realisation came the announcement from my sis that she's going away for another holiday on the day I get my B12.
*sigh* I'm finding it, or rather my body is finding it hard to regulate it's core temperature. It could be hormones, it could be the painkillers I take, it could be the fibro developing a new trait. But, whatever the reason, life is uncomfy when you swing from being comfy to sweating like a pig. *sigh*
And we had our yearly visit from one of my brothers and his wife. It was a reasonable visit from our perspective but I don't think my brother had a good visit with Mum and Dad. Mum wasn't really feeling all that well anyway, and he wasn't upstairs long. And dad didn't quite hear all that was being said so he gave some off the cuff answers which didn't fit with the questions. *sigh*
Oh well, life progresses. Hopefully I'll still be relatively functional once my caring role is done so I can enjoy a wee bit of life and freedom. But, in the meantime, the sense of feeling trapped is back to growing again.
I think I'll go draw plans for my "dream" house lol
And, with the dentist wanting to visit Mum (much to my utter astonishment since I had a run in with the dentist's assistant last year and she threw a tantrum and refused to make further appointments) and the next SW rep coming out on Tuesday, it's going to be a busy week next week too.
Exit stage left - unicorn farting subdued rainbows.
Saturday, 22 August 2015
Saturday, 15 August 2015
And coming up in the next episode . . .
Here we are, Saturday again, not that the name of each day makes much difference to me. Most folks look forward to weekends. When I worked in an office, I looked forward to my weekends. Now that I stay home and care (such a small word for such a BIG job) each day is exactly the same.
That being said, dad turned 83 yesterday, he's very proud of that fact. Given his age, he's really doing quite well - as long as no one tweaks his antidepressant. Yeah, we went through that this past week.
And now he's having a different medication tweaked. It's not stopping his restless pacing - 4 times last night, and that's just what I was aware of. And, of course, the local pharmacist had to make comment about his dosset box and regular meds and all that. I get so fed up explaining to each individual pharmacist that our GP is simply trialing different meds & dosages to see how dad responds. if the change is permanent then the dosset box will be updated. Until then I have to fiddle with his pills every day to find & remove the right one. Not easy given the small size of some of the tabs!
Mum's being quite obnoxious with some of the carers, and they're not quite sure if she's playing/teasing them or if she means it. Mum's of the generation that "women don't swear", just like they don't fart but "pass wind". So now that she's using words like "bitch" it's unsettling the more sensitive carers.
She said to me the other day, "I don't want the blue pill". She's never had a blue pill. Dad has a blue pill, but she's not got one. Would she believe me? Oh ye gawds no!
My vertigo came back with a vengeance Thursday morning. It felt awful knowing Mum needed a hand and my sister, who was prepping to go out for the day, was being interrupted and I couldn't do a damn thing! Lifting my head off the pillow was difficult, staying upright impossible. However, I had some pills left from the last time the world went sideways on me. Between them & diazepam, I was reasonably steady by lunchtime. I also use a drop of lavender essential oil on a cotton bud just run around just inside the ear canal. It helps too. When you're a carer, even with chronic issues, you can't afford to be incapacitated for too long. No pressure, nope, none at all.
Suki needs to go to the vet next week for her diabetic check (expensive), and she needs more insulin, so, next week will be a monetarily week.
Dad goes for his diabetic check next week too - I hope they examine his feet because I found an area of mild concern when I was cutting his toenails (not easy when the world starts to tilt!).
But, at least the sun is shining, and it looks like my sis and I are having a day out on Tuesday! YAY! And the forecast is half decent. AND I'm hoping she'll drive so I can take photos LOL I'd love to go paddle too, but we shall see.
Meanwhile the house needs cleaning again - vacuum, floor wash, steam, dust, the usual.
Dad spilled his actimel drink the other morning, in the living room, down the side of his chair.... Fortunately a good dab with an absorbent cloth and a thorough steam and, well, you'd not be able to tell. Given how sunny and warm it is turning out, at least that's one less thing to create a stink.
End of next week, mum and dad have their 63rd wedding anniversary. And, on that day, we are being graced by the presence of one of my brothers and his wife. That'll be a diet pepsi day lol
That being said, dad turned 83 yesterday, he's very proud of that fact. Given his age, he's really doing quite well - as long as no one tweaks his antidepressant. Yeah, we went through that this past week.
And now he's having a different medication tweaked. It's not stopping his restless pacing - 4 times last night, and that's just what I was aware of. And, of course, the local pharmacist had to make comment about his dosset box and regular meds and all that. I get so fed up explaining to each individual pharmacist that our GP is simply trialing different meds & dosages to see how dad responds. if the change is permanent then the dosset box will be updated. Until then I have to fiddle with his pills every day to find & remove the right one. Not easy given the small size of some of the tabs!
Mum's being quite obnoxious with some of the carers, and they're not quite sure if she's playing/teasing them or if she means it. Mum's of the generation that "women don't swear", just like they don't fart but "pass wind". So now that she's using words like "bitch" it's unsettling the more sensitive carers.
She said to me the other day, "I don't want the blue pill". She's never had a blue pill. Dad has a blue pill, but she's not got one. Would she believe me? Oh ye gawds no!
My vertigo came back with a vengeance Thursday morning. It felt awful knowing Mum needed a hand and my sister, who was prepping to go out for the day, was being interrupted and I couldn't do a damn thing! Lifting my head off the pillow was difficult, staying upright impossible. However, I had some pills left from the last time the world went sideways on me. Between them & diazepam, I was reasonably steady by lunchtime. I also use a drop of lavender essential oil on a cotton bud just run around just inside the ear canal. It helps too. When you're a carer, even with chronic issues, you can't afford to be incapacitated for too long. No pressure, nope, none at all.
Suki needs to go to the vet next week for her diabetic check (expensive), and she needs more insulin, so, next week will be a monetarily week.
Dad goes for his diabetic check next week too - I hope they examine his feet because I found an area of mild concern when I was cutting his toenails (not easy when the world starts to tilt!).
But, at least the sun is shining, and it looks like my sis and I are having a day out on Tuesday! YAY! And the forecast is half decent. AND I'm hoping she'll drive so I can take photos LOL I'd love to go paddle too, but we shall see.
Meanwhile the house needs cleaning again - vacuum, floor wash, steam, dust, the usual.
Dad spilled his actimel drink the other morning, in the living room, down the side of his chair.... Fortunately a good dab with an absorbent cloth and a thorough steam and, well, you'd not be able to tell. Given how sunny and warm it is turning out, at least that's one less thing to create a stink.
End of next week, mum and dad have their 63rd wedding anniversary. And, on that day, we are being graced by the presence of one of my brothers and his wife. That'll be a diet pepsi day lol
Saturday, 8 August 2015
Up and Down, life of a human yoyo
Well, here we are, another week gone. Another week closer to Christmas - arrrrrggggg
Dad's been complaining for a while about his lack of sleep. Except lack is the wrong word. He sleeps, a lot. He just doesn't do it in reasonably large chunks - as in he sleeps a couple of hours, gets up, sleeps a couple of hours, gets up etc etc etc. His GP changed one of his meds 4 weeks ago, but that didn't make much of a difference. He wanted me to phone the GP and get his heart meds changed or moved around, but then the Heart Failure Nurse comes in (his routine tests are looking not bad at all) and he discusses it with her. She decides she'll write to the GP and get a couple of his meds moved from morning to night but she really didn't think it would make much difference. In the meantime I had to phone the GP anyway, his reduced dosage meds were about to finish, what should I do? New prescription? Return to old dosage? What?
After due deliberation, the doc decides a new med is in order. Stop the old one immediately, leave for 2 weeks, commence new meds. Oh man, I freaked. When we reduced the dosage he went through a mini-withdrawal complete with anger, irrational out bursts - mostly, but not all, directed at me because I don't bite back as well as my sis does. The thought of having 2 weeks with nothing to cushion the emotional outbursts - well, let's just say, I was thinking mostly of myself (and only a little bit of dad). With this new information, the GP then reconsiders and, though we've stopped the meds now, he can start the new ones on Monday & the GP will pop in next week to check up on him.
So, after the palava of getting the new prescription, I googled the meds. *sigh* I do so hope we don't have any of the side effects...! Plus there's the remembering to remove the old tablet from his dosset box. Dosset boxes are wonderful things, a person at the pharmacy actually separates out all the meds and puts them into little boxes for each day/time/dosage. Trouble is, if meds change there can be a time lag and confusion. So, until the dr decides that this is the new permanent med, someone (me) has to hoick out the old med. And we have a dosset box for dad because dad decided he needed more painkillers than he was being allocated. *sigh*
Then there was the car - give Stewart and Craig their due, they put my car through his paces. But, at the end of the day, they found nothing wrong. Which is good!
I finally managed to climb the ladder and deal with the garage gutter issue (I hate ladders, even step ladders, my knees & thighs just do NOT appreciate them at all). Next time we have a bit of prolonged/heavy rain will see if it's worked (won't have to wait long, we're in Scotland after all) ha ha
Mum's forgetting where we live and how long we've lived here. :(
One of my brothers and his wife are coming, on their yearly visit, to see us week after next. Dad'll disappear and/or refuse to wear his hearing aid (went shopping the other day with dad & he had decided not to wear his hearing aid so conversation was impossible). And only my brother will be able to visit with mum, because my sis-in-law is in a wheelchair and we have no stairlift now.
Speaking of stairlifts, currently waiting to hear back from SW about meeting with another SWker to sort out the review document. I'll have to find the risk assessment/action plan I drew up for fire in the house. And that's another rant, but we won't go there today - the sun is shining and I'm hoping to hunt down some gf pork pies in our local M & S shop.
I don't shop in M&S as a rule, but for a pork pie (which I haven't had in 7 years & my sis hasn't had in over 10) I'm prepared to do battle with the other people who shop there. It's daft, but if you find yourself unable to enjoy certain foods, when/if you find someone who makes a version you can eat, well.... let's just say gf scones don't last long at the moment in this household lol And, if the pork pie hunt is successful, pork pies won't last long either! Until we get used to having them around again.
I find myself listening to the paid carers who come in, complaining about lack of holidays and when their next holiday will be. I understand the issue, I was the same way when I worked. And yes, I had 4 whole days away from the house late March/early April. But, you know, I'd really like a holiday too. Oh well.
Onwards & outwards - let the pork pie hunt commence!
Dad's been complaining for a while about his lack of sleep. Except lack is the wrong word. He sleeps, a lot. He just doesn't do it in reasonably large chunks - as in he sleeps a couple of hours, gets up, sleeps a couple of hours, gets up etc etc etc. His GP changed one of his meds 4 weeks ago, but that didn't make much of a difference. He wanted me to phone the GP and get his heart meds changed or moved around, but then the Heart Failure Nurse comes in (his routine tests are looking not bad at all) and he discusses it with her. She decides she'll write to the GP and get a couple of his meds moved from morning to night but she really didn't think it would make much difference. In the meantime I had to phone the GP anyway, his reduced dosage meds were about to finish, what should I do? New prescription? Return to old dosage? What?
After due deliberation, the doc decides a new med is in order. Stop the old one immediately, leave for 2 weeks, commence new meds. Oh man, I freaked. When we reduced the dosage he went through a mini-withdrawal complete with anger, irrational out bursts - mostly, but not all, directed at me because I don't bite back as well as my sis does. The thought of having 2 weeks with nothing to cushion the emotional outbursts - well, let's just say, I was thinking mostly of myself (and only a little bit of dad). With this new information, the GP then reconsiders and, though we've stopped the meds now, he can start the new ones on Monday & the GP will pop in next week to check up on him.
So, after the palava of getting the new prescription, I googled the meds. *sigh* I do so hope we don't have any of the side effects...! Plus there's the remembering to remove the old tablet from his dosset box. Dosset boxes are wonderful things, a person at the pharmacy actually separates out all the meds and puts them into little boxes for each day/time/dosage. Trouble is, if meds change there can be a time lag and confusion. So, until the dr decides that this is the new permanent med, someone (me) has to hoick out the old med. And we have a dosset box for dad because dad decided he needed more painkillers than he was being allocated. *sigh*
Then there was the car - give Stewart and Craig their due, they put my car through his paces. But, at the end of the day, they found nothing wrong. Which is good!
I finally managed to climb the ladder and deal with the garage gutter issue (I hate ladders, even step ladders, my knees & thighs just do NOT appreciate them at all). Next time we have a bit of prolonged/heavy rain will see if it's worked (won't have to wait long, we're in Scotland after all) ha ha
Mum's forgetting where we live and how long we've lived here. :(
One of my brothers and his wife are coming, on their yearly visit, to see us week after next. Dad'll disappear and/or refuse to wear his hearing aid (went shopping the other day with dad & he had decided not to wear his hearing aid so conversation was impossible). And only my brother will be able to visit with mum, because my sis-in-law is in a wheelchair and we have no stairlift now.
Speaking of stairlifts, currently waiting to hear back from SW about meeting with another SWker to sort out the review document. I'll have to find the risk assessment/action plan I drew up for fire in the house. And that's another rant, but we won't go there today - the sun is shining and I'm hoping to hunt down some gf pork pies in our local M & S shop.
I don't shop in M&S as a rule, but for a pork pie (which I haven't had in 7 years & my sis hasn't had in over 10) I'm prepared to do battle with the other people who shop there. It's daft, but if you find yourself unable to enjoy certain foods, when/if you find someone who makes a version you can eat, well.... let's just say gf scones don't last long at the moment in this household lol And, if the pork pie hunt is successful, pork pies won't last long either! Until we get used to having them around again.
I find myself listening to the paid carers who come in, complaining about lack of holidays and when their next holiday will be. I understand the issue, I was the same way when I worked. And yes, I had 4 whole days away from the house late March/early April. But, you know, I'd really like a holiday too. Oh well.
Onwards & outwards - let the pork pie hunt commence!
Saturday, 1 August 2015
Lughnasadh
According to ancient traditions (i.e. those which predate Christianity) this time of year was classed as a Harvest Festival, since a lot of crops (given good enough weather) would start to be harvested around this time of year.
Personally, though I am not a Christian, I don't celebrate it - it's just another day at the face of care giving. Maybe I should have more special days though, days which I can set aside to just have some quiet "me" time (ha ha - just joking, that won't happen until my circumstances change).
It's been a week though. My car decided it has an issue with it's steering, so I haven't been driving this week. He goes to the mechanic on Monday and we'll find out what the damage is - literally and monetarily. Dad went from being supportive - don't drive, get it seen to, let me know how much (which always comes as a relief since I have no savings to fall back on) - to being bolshy and combative with "I can't afford a big bill you know" and statements which made me feel quite upset and angry. I know it's where he is, mentally, these days - nothing much in life exists outside of himself and Mum and their bank balance. But, the long and the short of it is, if I don't have some method of getting out the house regularly I'll end up snapping and, when/if that happens, both him and Mum will be carted off into a care home and their quite reasonable retirement income will disappear faster than mist in the summer. However, he no longer can see that, comprehend that. *sigh* So he hits out at me, as if I sabotaged my car deliberately just to irritate him.
Safe to say I am sorely missing my car & the freedom he represents and the fact that I don't have to ask to be taken where I need to go. I'm thankful my sis has a car though, otherwise it'd be taxi journeys everywhere and they are on the expensive side.
Mum's not had a bad week, in fact, most of the time she's been quite chirpy and if she has been at all combative it's been in a way which I can diffuse. Though she asked me last night why I was so tired. Knowing that my answer, depending on what I said, could make her feel overly guilty (she's turned feeling guilty into an art form and then turning it back on others to try to make them feel guilty), I phrased my response carefully. Well, let's see - I can lie in a bed for long (I get sore & my sinuses clog up). I have pernicious anaemia which means I'm tired but it's the kind of tired which never goes away because there is nothing which cures it. I have fibromyalgia which makes a person tired - constant pain & the actual disease are the causes. Not much can be done about that. The fact that her TV is on from 7 a.m. until 8:30/9 p.m. with the volume at 45 or higher, makes napping incredibly difficult. The fact that there is shopping, washing, cleaning, checking up on carers, cooking etc etc etc to be done to maintain her and dad doesn't eat into my day/energy levels at all - oh heavens no. But one doesn't say that to mum.
That said, she did give me £20 to buy a new pet carrier - I had wanted one with wheels since carrying the carry cage is difficult & painful now, but the wheeled ones were coming in at close on £60. So I got one which has a shoulder strap. I can carry a fair bit of weight if it's across my chest/back - just shoulders and arms which can't take much direct stress these days (unless it's an emergency).
The parents of my best friend get married today. I hope they have a lovely day. Sounds odd though, doesn't it? But his mother is gay and same sex marriage has only recently been legally recognised in Texas, so it is something rather special for all involved, a day they never thought would happen has arrived. Congrats to them & I hope they have many grand years together.
I decided to clean the house on Thursday - I was getting most upset by the sheer number and size of the dust bunnies under Mum's bed (fed on a healthy diet of dropped mints and straws lol). So, in with the duster, the vacuum, the steamer. Once her room was done I moved onto the landing, my room, the stairs, and the carpets downstairs. All in all about 2 hours of solid work - and I'm still in the process of recovering. It's played hell on my wrists, back, thighs. And, when I look back, not so very long ago 2 hours of house cleaning would have cleaned the entire house from top to bottom including bathrooms. Yet, according to the UK Government, being like this is a life style choice. Man, have I made a bad choice then - how do I correct it? There is no treatment for fibro, there's hardly any research on it. I've tried to decide that I don't have it, but my body reminds me very quickly if I try to do anything remotely like "normal". So, tell me, UK Westminster Conservative government, how do I correct it?
Which brings me on to Cecil the Lion. I have to admit, I was livid. And my anger grew as I learned more about the situation and about the way that some African governments decide how many lions/tigers/big cats can be hunted legally. And then I read several comments and comentaries about how so many seem to be so angry about the death of one lion when so many people die each day - how can that be right? Right? I'm not sure it's right. But, the thing is, we're bombarded every day with images and stories of the ugly horrors of what human beings do to their fellow humans, it has desensitised us to some degree, I think. And then there's the other side to it - for me anyway. Humans will always seek to hurt and maim and kill each other, it's a fundamental part of what makes us a species (all species do it to a certain level - think about it before you decide to disagree). Doesn't make it right, doesn't make it acceptable, just makes us who we are. However, attacking a creature (any creature) which can't fight back - making it suffer - that's wrong. If you are going to hunt, hunt for food. If you are going to kill an animal, eat it - make its death count for something. And no, I don't think having its head mounted on a wall or it's skin made into a rug or its bones ground up for some mystical magic potion as counting for something - but that's just me and my opinion.
And now I need to get my bones & muscles working, go find my snuffles so I can breathe for 10 or 11 hours and get started on all the stuff I have to get done today.
Happy Rainbows!
Personally, though I am not a Christian, I don't celebrate it - it's just another day at the face of care giving. Maybe I should have more special days though, days which I can set aside to just have some quiet "me" time (ha ha - just joking, that won't happen until my circumstances change).
It's been a week though. My car decided it has an issue with it's steering, so I haven't been driving this week. He goes to the mechanic on Monday and we'll find out what the damage is - literally and monetarily. Dad went from being supportive - don't drive, get it seen to, let me know how much (which always comes as a relief since I have no savings to fall back on) - to being bolshy and combative with "I can't afford a big bill you know" and statements which made me feel quite upset and angry. I know it's where he is, mentally, these days - nothing much in life exists outside of himself and Mum and their bank balance. But, the long and the short of it is, if I don't have some method of getting out the house regularly I'll end up snapping and, when/if that happens, both him and Mum will be carted off into a care home and their quite reasonable retirement income will disappear faster than mist in the summer. However, he no longer can see that, comprehend that. *sigh* So he hits out at me, as if I sabotaged my car deliberately just to irritate him.
Safe to say I am sorely missing my car & the freedom he represents and the fact that I don't have to ask to be taken where I need to go. I'm thankful my sis has a car though, otherwise it'd be taxi journeys everywhere and they are on the expensive side.
Mum's not had a bad week, in fact, most of the time she's been quite chirpy and if she has been at all combative it's been in a way which I can diffuse. Though she asked me last night why I was so tired. Knowing that my answer, depending on what I said, could make her feel overly guilty (she's turned feeling guilty into an art form and then turning it back on others to try to make them feel guilty), I phrased my response carefully. Well, let's see - I can lie in a bed for long (I get sore & my sinuses clog up). I have pernicious anaemia which means I'm tired but it's the kind of tired which never goes away because there is nothing which cures it. I have fibromyalgia which makes a person tired - constant pain & the actual disease are the causes. Not much can be done about that. The fact that her TV is on from 7 a.m. until 8:30/9 p.m. with the volume at 45 or higher, makes napping incredibly difficult. The fact that there is shopping, washing, cleaning, checking up on carers, cooking etc etc etc to be done to maintain her and dad doesn't eat into my day/energy levels at all - oh heavens no. But one doesn't say that to mum.
That said, she did give me £20 to buy a new pet carrier - I had wanted one with wheels since carrying the carry cage is difficult & painful now, but the wheeled ones were coming in at close on £60. So I got one which has a shoulder strap. I can carry a fair bit of weight if it's across my chest/back - just shoulders and arms which can't take much direct stress these days (unless it's an emergency).
The parents of my best friend get married today. I hope they have a lovely day. Sounds odd though, doesn't it? But his mother is gay and same sex marriage has only recently been legally recognised in Texas, so it is something rather special for all involved, a day they never thought would happen has arrived. Congrats to them & I hope they have many grand years together.
I decided to clean the house on Thursday - I was getting most upset by the sheer number and size of the dust bunnies under Mum's bed (fed on a healthy diet of dropped mints and straws lol). So, in with the duster, the vacuum, the steamer. Once her room was done I moved onto the landing, my room, the stairs, and the carpets downstairs. All in all about 2 hours of solid work - and I'm still in the process of recovering. It's played hell on my wrists, back, thighs. And, when I look back, not so very long ago 2 hours of house cleaning would have cleaned the entire house from top to bottom including bathrooms. Yet, according to the UK Government, being like this is a life style choice. Man, have I made a bad choice then - how do I correct it? There is no treatment for fibro, there's hardly any research on it. I've tried to decide that I don't have it, but my body reminds me very quickly if I try to do anything remotely like "normal". So, tell me, UK Westminster Conservative government, how do I correct it?
Which brings me on to Cecil the Lion. I have to admit, I was livid. And my anger grew as I learned more about the situation and about the way that some African governments decide how many lions/tigers/big cats can be hunted legally. And then I read several comments and comentaries about how so many seem to be so angry about the death of one lion when so many people die each day - how can that be right? Right? I'm not sure it's right. But, the thing is, we're bombarded every day with images and stories of the ugly horrors of what human beings do to their fellow humans, it has desensitised us to some degree, I think. And then there's the other side to it - for me anyway. Humans will always seek to hurt and maim and kill each other, it's a fundamental part of what makes us a species (all species do it to a certain level - think about it before you decide to disagree). Doesn't make it right, doesn't make it acceptable, just makes us who we are. However, attacking a creature (any creature) which can't fight back - making it suffer - that's wrong. If you are going to hunt, hunt for food. If you are going to kill an animal, eat it - make its death count for something. And no, I don't think having its head mounted on a wall or it's skin made into a rug or its bones ground up for some mystical magic potion as counting for something - but that's just me and my opinion.
And now I need to get my bones & muscles working, go find my snuffles so I can breathe for 10 or 11 hours and get started on all the stuff I have to get done today.
Happy Rainbows!
Saturday, 25 July 2015
What's Love Got To Do With "It"?
Another week, another set of circumstances to deal with, another set of monumental headaches as one tries to do what's best, but first have to decide what's best. Working for a living was so much easier, one just had to deal with the crap but one also didn't have much of any control, Control's an illusion anyway, but, sometimes, it's a nice illusion to have.
But, this morning, I was thinking about love. About how we're fed these stories as kids about finding the happy ending, finding the soul mate/perfect one, finding solace and being saved.
Trouble is all those things depend on so many other things. So, what if you meet your soul mate - or the one you think is your soul mate and turns out that definitions are different, or they just don't see you in quite the same way? What if compromise just can't be done? What if your best friend can't be your romantic partner because they won't allow it (sometimes it's fear, sometimes it's because they just don't get it)? What if you can't escape from the ties that bind (for whatever reason)? What if you so desperately want/need someone else to take the strain for a while but there's no one there to do it?
Why do we assume that those whom we love can read our minds, understand why their actions hurt so much when, in all reality, no one can read another's mind to the point where things said or done can accurately be predicted as causing pain.
There are times/ events in my life that I wouldn't have overcome or made it through were it not for love.
And there are so many different variables of love.
Why do we chase after romantic/soul linking love? Yes, humans are a social species. Yes, opening yourself up to another human risks soul rending hurt. But why is it the goal for so many? I'll admit it, there are times when I so desperately need another human to hold me, to tell me it's okay, to hold my hand and give me strength - I rarely, if ever, get that support. To the point where I become all rather surly about it all, and fed up and disillusioned, not to mention hard and cold.
And there are so many times when I just want to gather up my cats, pile everything in the car and say "fuck it, I can't do this any more" and just drive off. Where would I go? I have no idea. What would I do for money? I have no idea, my savings are long gone, my bank account is permanently overdrawn, some days of a week I have a full tank of diesel, but that's the size of it. And then there's my medical issues and Suki's medical issues (she's a diabetic cat). I don't even have the luxury of being able to run away.
So, I'm trapped. And that's a bloody awful feeling to have - I'm used to it, I've been trapped my entire life because of parental expectations (imagine being told your entire life that you were only born to look after your parents in their old age), because of having no clarity in my own head what I want to do (though I do now - 30 years too late), because I was raised to pay homage to the great banking gods of Money and Responsibility - you MUST work for a living, doesn't matter how ill you are you must work, you must be responsible. Ye gawds, how I sometimes wish to be irresponsible - to say fuck it and just go away for a day, a week, a month, not caring whether anyone else takes up the slack or not - just be completely and utterly selfish.
Aren't we all trapped, one way or another? Doesn't help the way I feel about it all though.
What's love got to do with "it"? I have no idea, but there are definitely times when I wish I didn't have this baggage called "love".
But, this morning, I was thinking about love. About how we're fed these stories as kids about finding the happy ending, finding the soul mate/perfect one, finding solace and being saved.
Trouble is all those things depend on so many other things. So, what if you meet your soul mate - or the one you think is your soul mate and turns out that definitions are different, or they just don't see you in quite the same way? What if compromise just can't be done? What if your best friend can't be your romantic partner because they won't allow it (sometimes it's fear, sometimes it's because they just don't get it)? What if you can't escape from the ties that bind (for whatever reason)? What if you so desperately want/need someone else to take the strain for a while but there's no one there to do it?
Why do we assume that those whom we love can read our minds, understand why their actions hurt so much when, in all reality, no one can read another's mind to the point where things said or done can accurately be predicted as causing pain.
There are times/ events in my life that I wouldn't have overcome or made it through were it not for love.
And there are so many different variables of love.
Why do we chase after romantic/soul linking love? Yes, humans are a social species. Yes, opening yourself up to another human risks soul rending hurt. But why is it the goal for so many? I'll admit it, there are times when I so desperately need another human to hold me, to tell me it's okay, to hold my hand and give me strength - I rarely, if ever, get that support. To the point where I become all rather surly about it all, and fed up and disillusioned, not to mention hard and cold.
And there are so many times when I just want to gather up my cats, pile everything in the car and say "fuck it, I can't do this any more" and just drive off. Where would I go? I have no idea. What would I do for money? I have no idea, my savings are long gone, my bank account is permanently overdrawn, some days of a week I have a full tank of diesel, but that's the size of it. And then there's my medical issues and Suki's medical issues (she's a diabetic cat). I don't even have the luxury of being able to run away.
So, I'm trapped. And that's a bloody awful feeling to have - I'm used to it, I've been trapped my entire life because of parental expectations (imagine being told your entire life that you were only born to look after your parents in their old age), because of having no clarity in my own head what I want to do (though I do now - 30 years too late), because I was raised to pay homage to the great banking gods of Money and Responsibility - you MUST work for a living, doesn't matter how ill you are you must work, you must be responsible. Ye gawds, how I sometimes wish to be irresponsible - to say fuck it and just go away for a day, a week, a month, not caring whether anyone else takes up the slack or not - just be completely and utterly selfish.
Aren't we all trapped, one way or another? Doesn't help the way I feel about it all though.
What's love got to do with "it"? I have no idea, but there are definitely times when I wish I didn't have this baggage called "love".
Sunday, 19 July 2015
The Week That Was . . . or was it all my imagination?
Had my B12 injection last Monday - whohoo - pain levels down a tad, still waiting for the energy to surge, ha ha.
Dad couldn't decide whether he wanted to see a doctor or not. His weight was going up but he wasn't any more breathless than usual, so, while it is a "red flag" as far as his congestive heart failure goes there weren't any other accompanying signals. However, he wasn't listening when I told him he needed to start loosing weight - cut down on the donuts and the scones and the pieces of fruit. Fortunately, while I was in for my B12, I managed to get a conversation with our GP. He decided blood tests were in order - oh, man, how I sighed at that one (last time bloods were requested I "lost" 3 mornings out waiting for a district nurse when they had "forgotten" they were supposed to do it...!) However, the lovely lass & expert blood taker District Nurse turned up the following morning &, well, that was that.
Thing is, when someone, any one, decides they can't be bothered with their medical conditions (life threatening ones, not "just" plain old chronic) what are you supposed to do? Firstly they are adults, secondly you cannot watch them 24/7, thirdly they have the right to choose (no matter what I, or anyone else, may think or wish).
However, I made use of that morning in and contacted a company about taking away the garden rubbish, I tried to contact one about the guttering issue (but no one wanted to talk to me, so I need to find someone else) and I contacted an estate agent about a property I'd seen. I have grand plans. I have no money, but I like to dream. In some ways it keeps me sane, in others it frustrates the hell out of me.
Our GP came out on Thursday, so no rest that day, to see Dad. His long term sugar levels are a bit on the iffy side though not red flagging yet. His chest is clear, so the weight is "just" weight, his legs are fine. The GP also had a conversation with Mum. All in all, he is very pleased with how they are doing and our care of them. Certainly helped a little with the emotional fallout from the patronising SW report.
On the SW front I've had an email from a Group Manager with an unreserved apology. Acknowledging that the points I raised are valid ones. So, next step is a meeting with yet another SW member probably some time in August/early Sept. Bearing in mind that the actual review was in early April. . . Thing is until we get that sorted out the chances of Mum getting her"monkey bar" assessment are 0.
Wednesday morning was glorious. So, I decided to grab my sister & we went out for the day. I couldn't really afford it, and neither could she, but I needed out the house. The last time I'd had a day out was 11 April, the day before my bestie went back home after his 2 week visit. That's a long time without a significant break & decompression. That's the thing when you're a carer - you are told to get out the house as much as you can, but finances constrain you, as does physical ability in my case. As does getting cover for yourself. Cover needs a minimum of 2 weeks advance planning - when the weather is good you can't just pick up and go - however, I took a chance. I bubbled the house & Mum and Dad and we went. It was a bit busy but it was good.
And then there are the carers. We have some excellent carers who take great pride in their work and have an excellent work ethic. We have others who will only do the bare minimum. Fortunately, the ones who pretend to do things are no longer with us. For a number of months now I've been having a back & forth debate with the carers manager/supervisor - if carers can perform the things they are supposed to in half the time allocated then maybe we need to change the time allocation because there are other people out there in need for free personal care& not getting as much. Without physically standing in the room there is no way to tell if all the things written in the log book are actually carried out. Then there are the carers who think that they know better than the care plan instruction and decide, unilaterally, not to do the things they are paid to do because they know better.
*sigh*
But it really is getting to the point now where carers have 30 minutes, they are turning up 10/15 minutes late and leaving 5 mins early yet saying in their log that they've been here 20+ minutes and have done all they should do. If they are that bloody efficient and good at their jobs, then I will speak to Social Work and get our allocation reduced. I know the arguments against it, but I also feel rather strongly that people are getting paid for things they aren't doing.
On the other hand I know they don't earn much, I know they have a rigid timetable and it is not an easy job. But this is my mother we are talking about - if you can't provide the level of care which is stated in your own documentation, then you need to be doing something else with your life. It's a job, it's not a skive.
I'll keep an eye on things, I will continue reporting to their management but, if by the time I have my next meeting with SW things haven't improved then their nice easy time here will be far shorter and their bosses will have money withdrawn and, potentially, have all other SW allocated clients on FPC reviewed. Do they think like that? Oh, heavens no.
Then there's the issue of the Care Commission who oversee the running of care companies (amongst other things). If they notice that care plans are reduced, especially after the length of time we've had the same plan, questions will be asked & things will get a bit too warm for comfort for the company &, I have no doubt, management will share their displeasure.
One more stress on me, but no one gives a shit about that either.
It isn't easy, but at least I've "sold" 4 more copies of my book. That's a whole £0.90 I have earned so far. Still trying to keep a perspective on that viewpoint but it ain't easy sometimes. That said, I'm at page 140 of the next book in the series, so it's not standing still.
And now I'm off to be a unicorn farting rainbows in the kitchen while tidying up and doing dishes & having snuffles LOL
Dad couldn't decide whether he wanted to see a doctor or not. His weight was going up but he wasn't any more breathless than usual, so, while it is a "red flag" as far as his congestive heart failure goes there weren't any other accompanying signals. However, he wasn't listening when I told him he needed to start loosing weight - cut down on the donuts and the scones and the pieces of fruit. Fortunately, while I was in for my B12, I managed to get a conversation with our GP. He decided blood tests were in order - oh, man, how I sighed at that one (last time bloods were requested I "lost" 3 mornings out waiting for a district nurse when they had "forgotten" they were supposed to do it...!) However, the lovely lass & expert blood taker District Nurse turned up the following morning &, well, that was that.
Thing is, when someone, any one, decides they can't be bothered with their medical conditions (life threatening ones, not "just" plain old chronic) what are you supposed to do? Firstly they are adults, secondly you cannot watch them 24/7, thirdly they have the right to choose (no matter what I, or anyone else, may think or wish).
However, I made use of that morning in and contacted a company about taking away the garden rubbish, I tried to contact one about the guttering issue (but no one wanted to talk to me, so I need to find someone else) and I contacted an estate agent about a property I'd seen. I have grand plans. I have no money, but I like to dream. In some ways it keeps me sane, in others it frustrates the hell out of me.
Our GP came out on Thursday, so no rest that day, to see Dad. His long term sugar levels are a bit on the iffy side though not red flagging yet. His chest is clear, so the weight is "just" weight, his legs are fine. The GP also had a conversation with Mum. All in all, he is very pleased with how they are doing and our care of them. Certainly helped a little with the emotional fallout from the patronising SW report.
On the SW front I've had an email from a Group Manager with an unreserved apology. Acknowledging that the points I raised are valid ones. So, next step is a meeting with yet another SW member probably some time in August/early Sept. Bearing in mind that the actual review was in early April. . . Thing is until we get that sorted out the chances of Mum getting her"monkey bar" assessment are 0.
Wednesday morning was glorious. So, I decided to grab my sister & we went out for the day. I couldn't really afford it, and neither could she, but I needed out the house. The last time I'd had a day out was 11 April, the day before my bestie went back home after his 2 week visit. That's a long time without a significant break & decompression. That's the thing when you're a carer - you are told to get out the house as much as you can, but finances constrain you, as does physical ability in my case. As does getting cover for yourself. Cover needs a minimum of 2 weeks advance planning - when the weather is good you can't just pick up and go - however, I took a chance. I bubbled the house & Mum and Dad and we went. It was a bit busy but it was good.
And then there are the carers. We have some excellent carers who take great pride in their work and have an excellent work ethic. We have others who will only do the bare minimum. Fortunately, the ones who pretend to do things are no longer with us. For a number of months now I've been having a back & forth debate with the carers manager/supervisor - if carers can perform the things they are supposed to in half the time allocated then maybe we need to change the time allocation because there are other people out there in need for free personal care& not getting as much. Without physically standing in the room there is no way to tell if all the things written in the log book are actually carried out. Then there are the carers who think that they know better than the care plan instruction and decide, unilaterally, not to do the things they are paid to do because they know better.
*sigh*
But it really is getting to the point now where carers have 30 minutes, they are turning up 10/15 minutes late and leaving 5 mins early yet saying in their log that they've been here 20+ minutes and have done all they should do. If they are that bloody efficient and good at their jobs, then I will speak to Social Work and get our allocation reduced. I know the arguments against it, but I also feel rather strongly that people are getting paid for things they aren't doing.
On the other hand I know they don't earn much, I know they have a rigid timetable and it is not an easy job. But this is my mother we are talking about - if you can't provide the level of care which is stated in your own documentation, then you need to be doing something else with your life. It's a job, it's not a skive.
I'll keep an eye on things, I will continue reporting to their management but, if by the time I have my next meeting with SW things haven't improved then their nice easy time here will be far shorter and their bosses will have money withdrawn and, potentially, have all other SW allocated clients on FPC reviewed. Do they think like that? Oh, heavens no.
Then there's the issue of the Care Commission who oversee the running of care companies (amongst other things). If they notice that care plans are reduced, especially after the length of time we've had the same plan, questions will be asked & things will get a bit too warm for comfort for the company &, I have no doubt, management will share their displeasure.
One more stress on me, but no one gives a shit about that either.
It isn't easy, but at least I've "sold" 4 more copies of my book. That's a whole £0.90 I have earned so far. Still trying to keep a perspective on that viewpoint but it ain't easy sometimes. That said, I'm at page 140 of the next book in the series, so it's not standing still.
And now I'm off to be a unicorn farting rainbows in the kitchen while tidying up and doing dishes & having snuffles LOL
Thursday, 9 July 2015
Money, money, money
Well, it's Thursday, traditional (according to me lol) family grocery shopping day. I managed to save £11 today by buying deals and using a couple of coupons. Still, it came at £100.13 and that's without meat (which I buy in a different supermarket because of quality) and without veggies. I don't buy the premium brands, I don't even buy that much "free from" stuff any more because the cumulative cost is just ridiculous. Mind you £6.50 on milk, because dad wastes so much of it, and £4 on pots of porridge because it's easier for dad and loads of silly little dessert pots for mum because there are days when that's all she wants to eat (almost £8 on those). Frozen veg because there are days I can't deal with peeling veggies or breaking them apart. And have you seen the cost of laundry and cleaning products? !!
Aye, living is cheap in Scotland . . . insert sarcastic tone.
And then there was the Budget yesterday. No cut to Carers Allowance - for now. BUT the usual increases applied each year to increase benefits by inflation is stopped. So prices continue to escalate but we're supposed to cope on the same.
Conservative Governments are utter bastards. And yet listening to all the brouhaha yesterday you'd think that everyday workers are being treated like gods - oh yeah, create a "living wage" which isn't living at all and, quite frankly, isn't legally biding. (I heard someone say it was and yet there have been 3? 4? prosecutions of companies failing to pay it - how many don't pay it? A hell of a lot!) And on the other hand cut tax credits by 3 or 4 times what in "increase" in minimum wage is - because that's all the "living wage" is, it's a re-branding. Plus they are hiking up the rents paid by social housing tenants, the very people who are on minimum wage and claiming tax credits.
No one seems to be asking - why is the benefit system costing so much? If all these people are in employment now, why is it costing so much? I'll tell you why. Because people are forced off the job seekers allowance into 0 hours contracts, with no guarantee of work. Because people are forced to take low paid jobs which don't even cover the cost of transport to the place of work. because people are forced to take unpaid work. It all makes it look like so many people are not claiming jobseekers allowance - true, they aren't, but nor are they in decently paid employment meaning they don't need help.
One day I hope that the workers of this country, of whom there are far more than bosses and company directors and politicians, realise they have a voice and that voice doesn't have to agree with the elitist numpties in Downing Street and Whitehall who have never struggled or faced poverty, going hungry or going cold in winter.
And, btw, even if I only cared for my mother 35 hours a week I should get £252 a week - minimum wage, not £61.
Aye, living is cheap in Scotland . . . insert sarcastic tone.
And then there was the Budget yesterday. No cut to Carers Allowance - for now. BUT the usual increases applied each year to increase benefits by inflation is stopped. So prices continue to escalate but we're supposed to cope on the same.
Conservative Governments are utter bastards. And yet listening to all the brouhaha yesterday you'd think that everyday workers are being treated like gods - oh yeah, create a "living wage" which isn't living at all and, quite frankly, isn't legally biding. (I heard someone say it was and yet there have been 3? 4? prosecutions of companies failing to pay it - how many don't pay it? A hell of a lot!) And on the other hand cut tax credits by 3 or 4 times what in "increase" in minimum wage is - because that's all the "living wage" is, it's a re-branding. Plus they are hiking up the rents paid by social housing tenants, the very people who are on minimum wage and claiming tax credits.
No one seems to be asking - why is the benefit system costing so much? If all these people are in employment now, why is it costing so much? I'll tell you why. Because people are forced off the job seekers allowance into 0 hours contracts, with no guarantee of work. Because people are forced to take low paid jobs which don't even cover the cost of transport to the place of work. because people are forced to take unpaid work. It all makes it look like so many people are not claiming jobseekers allowance - true, they aren't, but nor are they in decently paid employment meaning they don't need help.
One day I hope that the workers of this country, of whom there are far more than bosses and company directors and politicians, realise they have a voice and that voice doesn't have to agree with the elitist numpties in Downing Street and Whitehall who have never struggled or faced poverty, going hungry or going cold in winter.
And, btw, even if I only cared for my mother 35 hours a week I should get £252 a week - minimum wage, not £61.
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