This week, my mother is staying in a local care home to give my father a chance to go away and have a week's respite.
It sort of works.
She will be making the best of unfamiliar and less comfortable surroundings, he will be doing his best to enjoy the week without worrying, we will be visiting the care home pretty much every day and bringing in bits and pieces - a bowl of grapes, a magazine, whatever - to try and brighten her stay.
I think that her sacrifice is worth it; because he will have a week without clock-watching to be ready for the carers, without remembering her medicines, without getting up at night to retrieve pillows or deal with the duvet or whatever (not that this happens every night).
I remember, when our children were very small, both under three years old, my birthday present from my husband was a complete day off. From the moment I woke up, until the moment I went to bed, I did none of the usual looking-after-two-babies-in-nappies.
I woke up, had breakfast (he got theirs), caught the train to London, and did whatever I pleased, when I pleased. I didn't have to think about meal times, or loo-stops, or what anyone else wanted to do.
I went and cuddled all the fabrics in Liberty's, pottered into an art exhibition, visited the Design Centre and bought a couple of jigsaw puzzles for the children, went round a street market and bought another jigsaw, which was really a puzzle for my husband, and eventually came home at about ten o'clock.
I "lived" on the memory of that day for several years; when things were getting a bit gritty at times and I was feeling ground down by domesticity, I would think back to that wonderful day. It was one of the best presents ever.
Got to go now - I promised I'd drop to my mother in first thing this morning to make sure that the first night had gone ok.
Showing posts with label respite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label respite. Show all posts
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Thursday, 14 November 2013
Thursday 14th November - Thank heavens for the freezer
By the time I get to the tail end of the week, I'm definitely running out of steam.
Take a day like today: Music teaching full on between 9 and 2:30, quick bite to eat (as in the rest of lunch; I get to munch half a sandwich in a free ten minutes at about 12, and finish the rest after the last class lesson. Zip down the hill to visit my mother, who is currently spending a week in a local residential home so that my father can have a break, then whizz back home to start the evening's piano teaching.
Now it is half past six, and time to be thinking about supper.
I did actually chop an onion and some few sticks of celery and a couple of carrots, fry them for a bit, chuck in some braising steak, cider, passata, herbs, clove of garlic and seasoning and whack the whole lot in the oven (160 fan for two and a half hours), but that will take two and a half hours to cook. No good for tonight's meal, then. And getting that lot into the oven without slicing my fingers used the last joules of energy that I had left.
So, while I was doing that, Best Beloved was delving into the freezer to come up with a "here's one I made earlier". It turned out to be a variation on "sausage supper" made with chorizo sausage. It was a doddle to boil some pasta and microwave the contents of the plastic boxes. As I had a chopping board and knife out, I went the extra mile and chopped and fried a couple of mushrooms.
Meanwhile, the beef stew will be ready just as we go to bed - at 9:30ish, seriously, always assuming we are still awake enough to get up and go to bed - and will go into the freezer ready for another day.
Now, all that's left for me to do is hang up some laundry (on various racks over the bath etc - after all, it isn't going to dry outside at this time of night), type up the lesson reviews from today's lessons, and post this blog.
Toodle - oo!
Take a day like today: Music teaching full on between 9 and 2:30, quick bite to eat (as in the rest of lunch; I get to munch half a sandwich in a free ten minutes at about 12, and finish the rest after the last class lesson. Zip down the hill to visit my mother, who is currently spending a week in a local residential home so that my father can have a break, then whizz back home to start the evening's piano teaching.
Now it is half past six, and time to be thinking about supper.
I did actually chop an onion and some few sticks of celery and a couple of carrots, fry them for a bit, chuck in some braising steak, cider, passata, herbs, clove of garlic and seasoning and whack the whole lot in the oven (160 fan for two and a half hours), but that will take two and a half hours to cook. No good for tonight's meal, then. And getting that lot into the oven without slicing my fingers used the last joules of energy that I had left.
So, while I was doing that, Best Beloved was delving into the freezer to come up with a "here's one I made earlier". It turned out to be a variation on "sausage supper" made with chorizo sausage. It was a doddle to boil some pasta and microwave the contents of the plastic boxes. As I had a chopping board and knife out, I went the extra mile and chopped and fried a couple of mushrooms.
Meanwhile, the beef stew will be ready just as we go to bed - at 9:30ish, seriously, always assuming we are still awake enough to get up and go to bed - and will go into the freezer ready for another day.
Now, all that's left for me to do is hang up some laundry (on various racks over the bath etc - after all, it isn't going to dry outside at this time of night), type up the lesson reviews from today's lessons, and post this blog.
Toodle - oo!
Wednesday, 29 May 2013
Monday 27th May - Arundel Day Out - Castle Keep
We tried to go to some kind of hysterical historical re-enactment-kill-everyone-day at Arundel Castle at Easter, but it was soooo cold that we just went somewhere else. Where it was soooo cold that we went somewhere else again - for lunch. Where it was still pretty chilly and the lunch wasn't that great anyway. So that was just a typical British-Make-the-Best-of-things-and-Enjoy-Yourself-In-Spite-of-Things-Day-Out.
Today was DIFFERENT! Although it was still pretty cold (I was warm enough - vest and long-sleeve T-shirt and fleece and wind-proof jacket - I was even nearly warm enough having lent jacket to daughter. No-one else was as warm as they would have liked to be.) anyway, I'm still in the middle of a sentence, still pretty cold due to a fresh and bracing breeze, the sun was out and the skies were blue and cloudless.
We arrived early, started off with a second breakfast at what is becoming a favourite spot;
which is right next to a favourite shop;
and then set off for the castle. It has improved since the days when I decided it was too commercial and too expensive (to be fair, the last time we went into the castle was nearly 20 years ago). It is so much better that it will take several posts to share our day.
We set off for the castle keep - a steady walk up to the entrance, and then 131 steps of varying sizes, lengths of flight, twisty-ness and turny-ness. Well worth the effort.
The keep is just an open shell, with pictures and descriptions of how it might have looked in the olden days.
The final few flights were narrow spiral staircases leading through the guard room into the chapel, where a figure of a monk sat reading a manuscript (printed cloth, so people could touch it) and a lavishly bound manuscript lay open on the altar (thick paper, with prayers in Latin and illuminated initials, so we could turn the pages.)
At the top you could face into the sharp wind, and look across the flat land towards the sea, or across the river valley to the downs, for miles.
It made me realise how seldom I get the opportunity to just stand and look into a far distant horizon. There are brief glimpse across the river valleys as I drive round and round West Sussex; a sudden opening in the trees at the top of the first hill travelling home from Petworth, a gap in the hedge along the twisty back lane from Ardingly, across the reservoir, to Balcombe, the views over the fields from the A272 between Petworth and Midhurst...
I always look out for these moments, but fleeting moments is all they can safely be. A glance, and then a tricky blind corner, or sudden narrowing of the lane, or dastardly behaviour from fellow motorists will bring by attention right back to the here and now, to the close and imminent demands of the next few minutes.
Just "gazing" isn't something that happens often enough. Hurly burly, hurry, hurry, do this, do that, mind the gap, watch your step, consult the list, what's next....
Stop. Stand. Stare. Be still.
Look. Listen. Observe.
Breathe.
Get a sense of perspective. Step back. Look at the big picture.
There. That's a lot better.
Today was DIFFERENT! Although it was still pretty cold (I was warm enough - vest and long-sleeve T-shirt and fleece and wind-proof jacket - I was even nearly warm enough having lent jacket to daughter. No-one else was as warm as they would have liked to be.) anyway, I'm still in the middle of a sentence, still pretty cold due to a fresh and bracing breeze, the sun was out and the skies were blue and cloudless.
We arrived early, started off with a second breakfast at what is becoming a favourite spot;
which is right next to a favourite shop;
and then set off for the castle. It has improved since the days when I decided it was too commercial and too expensive (to be fair, the last time we went into the castle was nearly 20 years ago). It is so much better that it will take several posts to share our day.
We set off for the castle keep - a steady walk up to the entrance, and then 131 steps of varying sizes, lengths of flight, twisty-ness and turny-ness. Well worth the effort.
The keep is just an open shell, with pictures and descriptions of how it might have looked in the olden days.
The final few flights were narrow spiral staircases leading through the guard room into the chapel, where a figure of a monk sat reading a manuscript (printed cloth, so people could touch it) and a lavishly bound manuscript lay open on the altar (thick paper, with prayers in Latin and illuminated initials, so we could turn the pages.)
At the top you could face into the sharp wind, and look across the flat land towards the sea, or across the river valley to the downs, for miles.
 |
| Add caption |
It made me realise how seldom I get the opportunity to just stand and look into a far distant horizon. There are brief glimpse across the river valleys as I drive round and round West Sussex; a sudden opening in the trees at the top of the first hill travelling home from Petworth, a gap in the hedge along the twisty back lane from Ardingly, across the reservoir, to Balcombe, the views over the fields from the A272 between Petworth and Midhurst...
I always look out for these moments, but fleeting moments is all they can safely be. A glance, and then a tricky blind corner, or sudden narrowing of the lane, or dastardly behaviour from fellow motorists will bring by attention right back to the here and now, to the close and imminent demands of the next few minutes.
Just "gazing" isn't something that happens often enough. Hurly burly, hurry, hurry, do this, do that, mind the gap, watch your step, consult the list, what's next....
Stop. Stand. Stare. Be still.
Look. Listen. Observe.
Breathe.
Get a sense of perspective. Step back. Look at the big picture.
There. That's a lot better.
Monday 27th May - Arundel Day Out - Castle Keep
We tried to go to some kind of hysterical historical re-enactment-kill-everyone-day at Arundel Castle at Easter, but it was soooo cold that we just went somewhere else. Where it was soooo cold that we went somewhere else again - for lunch. Where it was still pretty chilly and the lunch wasn't that great anyway. So that was just a typical British-Make-the-Best-of-things-and-Enjoy-Yourself-In-Spite-of-Things-Day-Out.
Today was DIFFERENT! Although it was still pretty cold (I was warm enough - vest and long-sleeve T-shirt and fleece and wind-proof jacket - I was even nearly warm enough having lent jacket to daughter. No-one else was as warm as they would have liked to be.) anyway, I'm still in the middle of a sentence, still pretty cold due to a fresh and bracing breeze, the sun was out and the skies were blue and cloudless.
We arrived early, started off with a second breakfast at what is becoming a favourite spot;
which is right next to a favourite shop;
and then set off for the castle. It has improved since the days when I decided it was too commercial and too expensive (to be fair, the last time we went into the castle was nearly 20 years ago). It is so much better that it will take several posts to share our day.
We set off for the castle keep - a steady walk up to the entrance, and then 131 steps of varying sizes, lengths of flight, twisty-ness and turny-ness. Well worth the effort.
The keep is just an open shell, with pictures and descriptions of how it might have looked in the olden days.
The final few flights were narrow spiral staircases leading through the guard room into the chapel, where a figure of a monk sat reading a manuscript (printed cloth, so people could touch it) and a lavishly bound manuscript lay open on the altar (thick paper, with prayers in Latin and illuminated initials, so we could turn the pages.)
At the top you could face into the sharp wind, and look across the flat land towards the sea, or across the river valley to the downs, for miles.
It made me realise how seldom I get the opportunity to just stand and look into a far distant horizon. There are brief glimpse across the river valleys as I drive round and round West Sussex; a sudden opening in the trees at the top of the first hill travelling home from Petworth, a gap in the hedge along the twisty back lane from Ardingly, across the reservoir, to Balcombe, the views over the fields from the A272 between Petworth and Midhurst...
I always look out for these moments, but fleeting moments is all they can safely be. A glance, and then a tricky blind corner, or sudden narrowing of the lane, or dastardly behaviour from fellow motorists will bring by attention right back to the here and now, to the close and imminent demands of the next few minutes.
Just "gazing" isn't something that happens often enough. Hurly burly, hurry, hurry, do this, do that, mind the gap, watch your step, consult the list, what's next....
Stop. Stand. Stare. Be still.
Look. Listen. Observe.
Breathe.
Get a sense of perspective. Step back. Look at the big picture.
There. That's a lot better.
which is right next to a favourite shop;
and then set off for the castle. It has improved since the days when I decided it was too commercial and too expensive (to be fair, the last time we went into the castle was nearly 20 years ago). It is so much better that it will take several posts to share our day.
We set off for the castle keep - a steady walk up to the entrance, and then 131 steps of varying sizes, lengths of flight, twisty-ness and turny-ness. Well worth the effort.
The keep is just an open shell, with pictures of how it might have looked in the olden days.
The final few flights were narrow spiral staircases leading through the guard room into the chapel, where a figure of a monk sat reading a manuscript (printed cloth, so people could touch it) and a lavishly bound manuscript lay open on the altar (thick paper, with prayers in Latin and illuminated initials, so we could turn the pages.)
At the top you could face into the sharp wind, and look across the flat land towards the sea, or across the river valley to the downs, for miles.
Today was DIFFERENT! Although it was still pretty cold (I was warm enough - vest and long-sleeve T-shirt and fleece and wind-proof jacket - I was even nearly warm enough having lent jacket to daughter. No-one else was as warm as they would have liked to be.) anyway, I'm still in the middle of a sentence, still pretty cold due to a fresh and bracing breeze, the sun was out and the skies were blue and cloudless.
We arrived early, started off with a second breakfast at what is becoming a favourite spot;
which is right next to a favourite shop;
and then set off for the castle. It has improved since the days when I decided it was too commercial and too expensive (to be fair, the last time we went into the castle was nearly 20 years ago). It is so much better that it will take several posts to share our day.
We set off for the castle keep - a steady walk up to the entrance, and then 131 steps of varying sizes, lengths of flight, twisty-ness and turny-ness. Well worth the effort.
The keep is just an open shell, with pictures and descriptions of how it might have looked in the olden days.
The final few flights were narrow spiral staircases leading through the guard room into the chapel, where a figure of a monk sat reading a manuscript (printed cloth, so people could touch it) and a lavishly bound manuscript lay open on the altar (thick paper, with prayers in Latin and illuminated initials, so we could turn the pages.)
At the top you could face into the sharp wind, and look across the flat land towards the sea, or across the river valley to the downs, for miles.
|
| Add caption |
It made me realise how seldom I get the opportunity to just stand and look into a far distant horizon. There are brief glimpse across the river valleys as I drive round and round West Sussex; a sudden opening in the trees at the top of the first hill travelling home from Petworth, a gap in the hedge along the twisty back lane from Ardingly, across the reservoir, to Balcombe, the views over the fields from the A272 between Petworth and Midhurst...
I always look out for these moments, but fleeting moments is all they can safely be. A glance, and then a tricky blind corner, or sudden narrowing of the lane, or dastardly behaviour from fellow motorists will bring by attention right back to the here and now, to the close and imminent demands of the next few minutes.
Just "gazing" isn't something that happens often enough. Hurly burly, hurry, hurry, do this, do that, mind the gap, watch your step, consult the list, what's next....
Stop. Stand. Stare. Be still.
Look. Listen. Observe.
Breathe.
Get a sense of perspective. Step back. Look at the big picture.
There. That's a lot better.
which is right next to a favourite shop;
and then set off for the castle. It has improved since the days when I decided it was too commercial and too expensive (to be fair, the last time we went into the castle was nearly 20 years ago). It is so much better that it will take several posts to share our day.
We set off for the castle keep - a steady walk up to the entrance, and then 131 steps of varying sizes, lengths of flight, twisty-ness and turny-ness. Well worth the effort.
The keep is just an open shell, with pictures of how it might have looked in the olden days.
The final few flights were narrow spiral staircases leading through the guard room into the chapel, where a figure of a monk sat reading a manuscript (printed cloth, so people could touch it) and a lavishly bound manuscript lay open on the altar (thick paper, with prayers in Latin and illuminated initials, so we could turn the pages.)
At the top you could face into the sharp wind, and look across the flat land towards the sea, or across the river valley to the downs, for miles.
Monday, 27 May 2013
More Saturday 25th May - Boxgrove Priory and Labyrinth. Scollops and Bacon. Perfect Day
After we had finished with Bognor, what then? where should we go?
Chichester again?
I've always wanted to visit Boxgrove, which is just outside Chichester, so that's where we headed. Or rather, didn't head. But that was soon rectified by going completely round the next roundabout.
By now the weather was properly sunny, as experienced from inside the car. And properly freezing, as experienced when we got out of the car at Boxgrove.
It's a small Sussex village, with the remains of a priory. http://www.boxgrovepriory.co.uk/index.html
The ruins of the guesthouse,
the entrance to the old cloisters,
and just half a church.
I'm standing where the North and South Transepts meet. The church ends just behind me. Originally there would have been a screen, and about the same amount of church again, where the village people would have come to worship. This was demolished after the Dissolution of the Monasteries.
The an entry on the ibenedictines blog (www.ibenedictines.org) laments the way that the chantry chapels lost their original purpose; http://www.ibenedictines.org/2013/05/22/of-chantry-chapels-and-olden-times/, and masses are no longer said in them for the souls of the people who had endowed them.
Here, the De la Warr chantry is used for the reservation of the sacrament, and as a place for quiet prayer, and prayers are said for the De la Warr family every Wednesday, as requested in their Will back in the sixteenth century.
We had to make our visit in two stages as there was a wedding in progress when we first turned up. So we wandered around outside while the congregation sang the first hymn; "Guide me, O Thou Great Redeemer" seeping through the windows and doors was just perfect.
We went off for a late, light lunch at the Anglesey Arms up the road (scallops and bacon, the one soft and delicately flavoured, the other crisp and salty, yum yum and very yum) and returned later to look around the interior. A romantic, Sussex Spring day, full of colour, and birdsong, and flowers...
We came home refreshed, revived, having had a great day out, just the two of us. We had seen the sea, driven through the most beautiful countryside, up over the downs and back home again. Perfect.
Chichester again?
I've always wanted to visit Boxgrove, which is just outside Chichester, so that's where we headed. Or rather, didn't head. But that was soon rectified by going completely round the next roundabout.
By now the weather was properly sunny, as experienced from inside the car. And properly freezing, as experienced when we got out of the car at Boxgrove.
It's a small Sussex village, with the remains of a priory. http://www.boxgrovepriory.co.uk/index.html
The ruins of the guesthouse,
the entrance to the old cloisters,
and just half a church.
I'm standing where the North and South Transepts meet. The church ends just behind me. Originally there would have been a screen, and about the same amount of church again, where the village people would have come to worship. This was demolished after the Dissolution of the Monasteries.
The an entry on the ibenedictines blog (www.ibenedictines.org) laments the way that the chantry chapels lost their original purpose; http://www.ibenedictines.org/2013/05/22/of-chantry-chapels-and-olden-times/, and masses are no longer said in them for the souls of the people who had endowed them.
Here, the De la Warr chantry is used for the reservation of the sacrament, and as a place for quiet prayer, and prayers are said for the De la Warr family every Wednesday, as requested in their Will back in the sixteenth century.
We had to make our visit in two stages as there was a wedding in progress when we first turned up. So we wandered around outside while the congregation sang the first hymn; "Guide me, O Thou Great Redeemer" seeping through the windows and doors was just perfect.
We went off for a late, light lunch at the Anglesey Arms up the road (scallops and bacon, the one soft and delicately flavoured, the other crisp and salty, yum yum and very yum) and returned later to look around the interior. A romantic, Sussex Spring day, full of colour, and birdsong, and flowers...
We came home refreshed, revived, having had a great day out, just the two of us. We had seen the sea, driven through the most beautiful countryside, up over the downs and back home again. Perfect.
Monday, 6 May 2013
May Day - Monday 6th MayBeDay
Respite Care
Oh my word, what a palaver a respite week can be. How many tears of anguish and guilt and more guilt and even more guilt can one deal with.
My mother is spending a week in a local care home.
My father has been booked on a coach tour for five days, in Wales.
We - that is me and my family - are visiting my mother most, if not every day, taking in the grapes and raspberries and newspapers and biscuits that she likes and making sure she is OK.
The opportunities for feeling guilty have been fully exploited and taken to the nth degree by all concerned - it has taken real emotional effort to arrive at this point in time without anyone caving in.
I actually think that there are a lot of positives to be gained from going through with this week.
My mother will not get the home comforts that she enjoys. The meals are all the wrong way round (main meal at lunchtime, snack at supper time) - but hey - she can have showers and carers and nursing at the press of a button, day or night, from well-trained, kind, helpful, caring, professional staff. She is, too a certain degree, in charge.
My father will be in a lather of anxiety about "abandoning" his wife to the care of strangers, without being there to protect her and ensure that everything is done to make her comfortable - but hey - he doesn't have to remember to get her medications at the right time, to arrange mealtimes around the four daily visits from carers. Nor will he be woken anything up to four or five times most nights, as my mother needs another pain killer, or her pillow has got wedged, or she has become confused about the time, or has been woken by a bad dream. His nights will be his own, and all meals will be provided by the hotel. No cooking! No food shopping for a whole week!
We have arranged a series of people to visit during the week. We can take my mother out into the town in her wheelchair without any need for difficult manoeuvres with lifts and ramps and ordering a specially adapted taxi and remembering to be back in time for the next visit by the carers.
I swear - indeed I have sworn already - that we all need to be mature and adult and accepting and positive about the whole experience.
Otherwise I swear - indeed, I have sworn already - that the next time we arrange respite care, I will book a holiday for myself in Spain for the same week. Or Scarborough. Or Skegness. Or wherever.
Meanwhile, I lit TWO candles in Chichester cathedral today, one each, or was that one for the pair of them and one for us? Here they are, side by side, on the top row, in front of the Easter Garden scene in the cathedral. you know - the bit about the Resurrection? The Dead coming back to Life? Hope? Renewed Hope and Strength?
Oh my word, what a palaver a respite week can be. How many tears of anguish and guilt and more guilt and even more guilt can one deal with.
My mother is spending a week in a local care home.
My father has been booked on a coach tour for five days, in Wales.
We - that is me and my family - are visiting my mother most, if not every day, taking in the grapes and raspberries and newspapers and biscuits that she likes and making sure she is OK.
The opportunities for feeling guilty have been fully exploited and taken to the nth degree by all concerned - it has taken real emotional effort to arrive at this point in time without anyone caving in.
I actually think that there are a lot of positives to be gained from going through with this week.
My mother will not get the home comforts that she enjoys. The meals are all the wrong way round (main meal at lunchtime, snack at supper time) - but hey - she can have showers and carers and nursing at the press of a button, day or night, from well-trained, kind, helpful, caring, professional staff. She is, too a certain degree, in charge.
My father will be in a lather of anxiety about "abandoning" his wife to the care of strangers, without being there to protect her and ensure that everything is done to make her comfortable - but hey - he doesn't have to remember to get her medications at the right time, to arrange mealtimes around the four daily visits from carers. Nor will he be woken anything up to four or five times most nights, as my mother needs another pain killer, or her pillow has got wedged, or she has become confused about the time, or has been woken by a bad dream. His nights will be his own, and all meals will be provided by the hotel. No cooking! No food shopping for a whole week!
We have arranged a series of people to visit during the week. We can take my mother out into the town in her wheelchair without any need for difficult manoeuvres with lifts and ramps and ordering a specially adapted taxi and remembering to be back in time for the next visit by the carers.
I swear - indeed I have sworn already - that we all need to be mature and adult and accepting and positive about the whole experience.
Otherwise I swear - indeed, I have sworn already - that the next time we arrange respite care, I will book a holiday for myself in Spain for the same week. Or Scarborough. Or Skegness. Or wherever.
Meanwhile, I lit TWO candles in Chichester cathedral today, one each, or was that one for the pair of them and one for us? Here they are, side by side, on the top row, in front of the Easter Garden scene in the cathedral. you know - the bit about the Resurrection? The Dead coming back to Life? Hope? Renewed Hope and Strength?
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