Common Circus Belmont

Yesterday I had a flu shot administered by a medical student under the expert instructions of my GP. We all survived, I still have my arm, though it is a tad sore at the site which is usual.

The student was male which was unusual as we get a lot of female med students and he did an excellent job for a first injection!

I felt in need of a coffee as I always do if I am in the vicinity of Common Circus, the wonderful homewares and coffee shop opposite Belmont Lake.

I have been coming here since I moved into my home in 2015 and really love sitting at the large communal monk’s style table. I blog my memoirs, surreptitiously people and baby watch and chat to people from all walks of life as well as these days assess who is a tourist.

I remember the first time in 2016 when I was asked if I was a local! By a tourist. It was incredible and I felt really proud of my beautiful region. Then I chatted about Words With Friends and other things and yesterday I observed a lovely interaction with some young mums at the table.

One mum had a newborn in a sling which the other mum nursed for her. Her little toddler was hidden by the plants in the middle of the table so I could not see what he was doing. He was very quiet.

I asked if it was okay to take photos for my blog. Assured them it was anonymous and covered women’s health etc and coffee shop reviews! They liked that I think though the gorgeous young mum was concerned she looked awful as was sleep deprived and had no make up on.

You can judge for yourself from the photos below. There were lots of people coming and going. Business types in suits getting their take away coffees. Older people reading newspapers while they savoured theirs. And then the younger ones perched on the stools looking towards the lake.

There is a lovely outdoor area with a communal table and the staff is always perky. And not as a result of the coffee. They are naturally inclined that way! And. They know the names of most of their regulars!

I highly recommend this place, not least for the service they provide but for the way they make use of recycled paper boxes and napkins and cups instead of plates and cups and saucers. Their coffee and food is unparalleled too.

The decor is gorgeous with patchwork panelling and colourful coffee machines. Currently pink. Used to be aqua. I prefer the aqua but that is just my taste and the pink does not nauseate me as it may some people I know. Think fifties kitchens. Pretty.

Five star review. Excellent and has remained so, even improved if that is possible.

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Where I Choose To Be

Yesterday was my late mum’s birthday. But that was not why it was such a difficult day. In the morning I rang my dad in the aged care home. He has dementia, stroke damage and stage four Prostate Cancer and he was very worked up and totally out of it with agitation. He told me he had manhandled and literally thrown a lady out of his room and that her friends had come to help her. Dad had swung at a man who used to be a fighter, who said he ducked. And dad told me he was going to get a man, later on. He has never been fond of people he finds stupid and these people are demented, bless them.

My son and I then set out after lunch for my appointment with Dr Russo of The Hunter Pain Clinic in Broadmeadow. It’s a level one pain service where medications and injections and ablations into and of nerves occur, unlike at John Hunter Pain Management. I went six months ago, found great success with my SFN and other neuropathic pain due to past surgeries and mesh. It is a lovely bus trip by the lake to Cardiff and then a train to Broadmeadow. Unfortunately it’s a long walk for me from the station, I know now to get a taxi from there. Silly of me not to, I was overconfident.

At some stage of the day the AINs told dad his blood pressure was up, probably to try to get him to stop fixating on the men he particularly hates. So he started phoning and when he could not get me he left messages. Three before I wised up and stopped taking the voicemails. Each was worse with him crying, wanting to go to hospital and beside himself thinking he was going to die.

Meantime my son and I waited over an hour for Dr Russo, who was brilliant as always. He said I needed to increase the Lyrica in my Neuropathy cocktail by 75mg. After that nerve ablation of the Femorogenital Nerve and the Illinguinal Nerve on the left side is all that is left to do. He also wrote that I could have a sustained release painkiller, Palexia. All I use at the moment is Panadol Osteo.

The trip home was a long one. To avoid the walk to the station we caught two buses, one to Glendale which was forty minutes and then a bus home which was around twenty. I stopped being a nasty snarly bitch to my poor ever suffering son once off my feet and on the bus and dropped into a ten minute retrospection ending in quite the insight. I have had moments of clarity before but never quite like this.

I was wondering if it was worth it. Really. To have Small Fibre Neuropathy pain so badly that I had needed a walking aid to get around. The pain so unspeakable I found it hard to describe it. And to lose that pain totally for four months only to have it start to return? With no real hope of it ever going or being controlled. More so with the unbelievable mesh pain beside my stoma. Would I have done it if I had known? Would I not have been better to not have that wonderful break, only to have to learn to deal with the agony again?

And yet, if I had not tried the cocktail, I would never have got off the walker, might even have been encouraged into a wheelchair by now. I would not have had the courage to meet up with my man of many voices, not in an intimate way. Would not have started any relationship at all. Talking to Dr Russo I realised how much had changed since I saw him in November. For the good. Life is full of joy for me, despite the pain. Or in part because of it I truly appreciate life and the beauty in the world.

So yes I would have tried the drugs, I would have knowingly tried them even if they had told me they would not continue to work much beyond the six months. Because where hope is is where I want to be. Where possibility is is also where I am meant to be. Where determination is is where I choose to be.

But for dad, my quandary is very different, to hear him at 4.59 this morning. Crying. Because he “does not know what is happening.” The catch cry, especially of the Vascularly demented. What is the point in prolonging his misery? His fear? His degradation? Should I have ever let the specialist put him on the Zoladex which is stopping the Testosterone which is fuelling the cancer? It will wear off by the end of this year anyway but it’s month upon month of agonising fear for my dad, a once proud, strong man. Can I in good conscience ask for it to be stopped? And let the disease take its course?

In other countries he might have been able to choose his death. But dad thought he was immortal and never prepared for old age. Now I am trying to look after us both. Making tough decisions for both of us. Mine is just pain, it will not kill me though the increase in Lyrica will likely affect my memory. But only while I take it. Whereas dad is going to die. A long, drawn out protracted death whereby he slowly withers away. Even now he is dehydrated. He could choose to stop eating at any time. It happens. And I will be here witnessing it, but thankful my mum did not have to. That she was taken before that. She always looked after dad, he was her first thought in the morning. Her duty was to care for him. Her duty born of love. Mine is a different love, but mum knew I would look after him. It is who I am. And who I am is very much someone who questions suffering. Suffering, the kind that does not enrich life, only demeans and terrifies our elderly. Our loved ones with dementia.

 

 

Mother’s Day 2018

Wishing mum’s everywhere a truly wonderful day, while thinking of the people who no longer have their mothers. There is also the unspeakable grief of the mother’s who have lost their children. I know a few and my heart goes out to them. Usually I find they are the first to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day.

This is the first Mother’s Day since 2014 that I did not cry when I awoke. My mum passed away mid that year. I never thought I would be able to get over the unrelenting grief but life is full of possibilities. It goes on regardless of our feelings or of what is happening in our lives.

I had one Mother’s Day with mum in her large home, just before she went into care and one the next year, where we spoiled her rotten before celebrating our own little family. I bought mum a beautiful aqua boiled wool jacket which she wore for one outing with me after that. She died suddenly a few weeks later.

I have added some photos of my mum throughout her life. She was full of fun and cheeky at the beginning and end of her life and I was truly blessed to share those years with her.

On This Day: A Very Long Time

Four years ago today Angela the Calvary care worker and myself took dad to see a great care hostel near us in Wallsend. It was Jesmond Grove,  a short walk away and  run by Anglicare.

He liked it and did not get upset or anxious but I feared his lack of higher functioning since the stroke would stop him deciding to go in there. It had a personal recommendation from my angel Norma, my parent’s then neighbour.

So it would likely be up to his new guardian. We were having a new Guardianship Tribunal on 9th may. That was two semi formal and stressful legal hearings in less than a month.

Wonder if that is why I was getting nightmares? In both cases two people who had caused me enormous trauma were present and I had not seen either of them for a very long time.