17.8.07

Blessings raining down upon my soul


It is inconceivable that the me of the 1980s would recognize the life and style of the me of the now. Trading in infamy for anonymity - taking for giving - upward mobility for standing still.
I like standing still! Who knew?

A new name to me to replace a cancellation or two. A wonderful elderly gentleman so very pleased to meet me, a cancer-ridden woman not many years older than I being so very happy to share her story in a barely audible voice. Blessings are raining down on me like sunshine streaming through a country kitchen window.

My best of all worlds is to hear people remunerating life episodes wistfully/sorrowfully/joyfully. To live in this world so sensually alive is not a blessing unless you live one on one all day every day; quite impossible these days unless you work as a paid Companion.
Or in HealthCare. Community to be precise.
Facility is more run run and run some more.

To do what you love and get paid for it is Paradise.

A Chaucerian Blessing


Bless this house
Chaucerian Blessing

Blesse this house from every wikkede wight,
Fro nyghtes mare werye the with Pater-noster;
Wher wonestow now, seynte Petres soster?”


— (The Mylleres Tale by Chaucer , also Chaucer's The Miller's Tale, annotated version)

15.8.07

A Very Cool Gentleman

Don To Earth, A Nonagenarian (90+) Ponders Life, the Universe, and Aging

This is someone I understand completely.

Go Don go.

read his blog-- as many of his very insightful posts as you can - -
here

14.8.07

More Stardust




Ah Stardust.

We went to see it on Saturday night with great anticipation.
It was a hoot and a half. Robert de Niro was grande as the fiercesome pirate whoopsie.

Highly recommended.

:)


Or you can have the reading pleasure and enjoy that as well.
A purist might have quibbles with the film but it was great fun.




Quibbles and bits

Oh how people notice small things.

Ok ok so...

“Never commit yourself to a cheese with having first examined it.” - T.S. Eliot

12.8.07

Wellness Versus Chaos


Like so many people who look great, I have my secret invisible injury to keep me company day in and day out. Some days it is far away from me, and others right in my face. It is completely impossible to explain to people who have no experience with it, and sadly the very worst to deal with are one's own family.

I had a very bad few days for no apparant reason at all. I do not take time off work for these things but I do have to come home and go to bed in a very dark room alone. The people I work with and the people I work alongside never have any idea that I could have anything less than a perfect life.

Oh this looking good thing. Because of my lifestyle choices, alot of people assume I am independantly wealthy. After all, I display all the trappings of success including a workweek most people would chomp their teeth off to get. I work 30 hours a week at most over four days. At most. My clothes are beautiful and bountiful and my car is shiny and newer, and I have a ridiculous penchant for jewels, but no, I am not wealthy. Not in the material sense at least.

Bad day. bad night. Another bad day, another bad night.
What did my own family say to me?
"Don't you think you will feel alot better if you would just deal with it and get over it?"

Well, yeah that would be great. Could you send that memo to God about reversing brain injuries? I am sure He will get right on it.

So I still take these damn medications, and wonder if they do anything other than make me fatter and sleepier. I look so good. Plus-size good but good, so they tell me.

Does this mean anything at all?
Not to me.

If I won a lottery prize of any substance, I would go off my meds and take a year off somewhere to see what exactly would happen. I know I would not sleep very much, and I know I would not be able to stand having many people near me, and possibly I might have a seizure but ......

It doesnt translate to text this preoccupation of mine.

Like Pinocchico I just want to be real.

10.8.07

Expect Cultural and Privacy Issues ... ?

This was the phrase spoken to me over the telephone as a new client was added to my tomorrow.
I must admit I fretted all day about what on earth that could possibly mean.
"Expect Cultural and Privacy issues"

Well, bugger me sideways with a spoon but the last time anyone said anything like that to me, it was a 50 yr old alcoholic having a welfare wednesday party with a few friends that awaited me.
I was, most definitly on high alert for this one.

Semantics/syntax is everything.
What the phrase should have been was:
"This is a revered Elder. Please show utmost respect."

The client was the equivilant of a Prince, but not that he would have ever told you so.
His Caregiver on the other hand was very mindful of this. I do not blame her at all for wanting the HealthCare team to show deep respect. The gentleman was an utterly amazing force.
He hobnobs all over the world and leads ceremonies and blessings for WorldClass events but he was watching George C. Scott as Patton when I entered.

The home was a treasure trove of articles of cultural importance from all over the world. Given in trade for things depicted in large mounted photographs that adorned the walls. The photographs were of top quality and mounted like paintings. A story in every single room of that home. And yet, there he sat waiting and smiling.

"This is hard for me', he said. " I am not used to this."

Once finished the assignment, I left feeling blissed. It was such a privilege to have been there -
a wonderful blessing he presided over - for me.

6.8.07

Stardust

I am so looking forward to this film.


Opening August 10th.

Count me in.





Hello New Closet (Good bye storage room)

Hello New Closet!!!

After living here five years, perhaps I might stay awhile. It is small here and the storage is minimal. This has necessitated the premature ejaculation of many shinies and books and beloved mathoms. -sigh- I have wheedled down to where I no longer want to say goodbye to anything at all. Not long ago I gave away just under 3 dozen of my lesser clocks. It felt like a limb being amputated.

The new closet is not attached to my room, but the second very small bedroom. It is beautiful. White and pristine and in use by the bedroom dweller. But the storage....

(Good bye storage room) (Hello outside clutter)

It is really difficult to get things in order. I did not work at all on the closet so I cant complain there. All I did was come home and oooh and awwww appropriatly. Not enough, I am sure.
(*Obviously)

My new plan includes giving away many more things.
My limbs are twinge-ing.

5.8.07

Holiday Directions

Every long weekend, there is someone new on my list. This is due to the number of people who choose to take holiday weekends off. Sometimes it is also due to people calling in sick at the last minute. I had one or three new folk and some of them had addresses most unfamiliar to me.

The one I went to today had an address in the binders that differed from the ones on the Weekend sheets. It did not match the one in the computer. Three different addresses for the same client. There was nothing to do but call and get directions. I followed the directions meticulously, and wound up driving around a campsite, trying to avoid kids and bikes and weekend holidayers.

I got smart. I called the client. Seems the directions the OFFICE gave me left out a crucial left turn. -heh

All's well that ends well. As I left I heard the gentleman asking his wife, my client if she liked me.

"Like ice-cream" she said. "But better for me."

I will take that as a compliment.

12.7.07

Hey - I recognise that deer!

(and the *sneaking* teenager too!)


8.7.07

Did I happen to mention.... ?

Me and my doggieboy are content and happy in this small life we have.
Around me, the little city grows and the green spaces diminish. The property values soar ever higher and the newer residents all seem to be disgustingly wealthy. They also want all the perks of the big city and vote for changes that are spoiling this little paradise of ours. But that was inevitable.

Still this happiness has settled upon me in these, my advanced years.
As opposed to those my retarded years. heh. Truth!

The sorrow of my birth family continues as addiction and co-dependance continues without respite. It pains me greatly as there is no gain in dissecting the past. It is dead.
Many times in my life, I have been reminded that my capacity for compassion was born of this horror of olde. I could easily have been the one still searching for solace. In key ways I still am. More likely, I , like the Witch of the East in the Wizard of Oz hear the cry: Begone! You have no power here!

I am lighting my candles now.

The Weekend!

Ever more mundane and pedantic, my weekend thrills have become super-colossal.
This weekend, I YouTube-d the audio BBC Lord of the Rings - as I MUD-ded.

Now that may seem small spuds to you, but to me the thrill was palatable!

Tonight I logged on to my YouTube and once again revisited one of the biggest parties I ever went to waaaaay back when. It was *the Fleshtones* and man it was one hell of a party. That was what my olde weekends were. Hah.

I smile when I see the uploaded *Right Side of a Good thing* - !
And you can too.

Sometimes I do miss the wasted days. That would be me being wasted I mean.
Sometimes.
I had so much energy! People always thought I was loaded or high when most of the time I was just completely excited beyond compare! But that night I was completely wasted. __Someone__ served me repeatedly a lethal cocktail of some kind. I had a blast.

I remember the next day by the pool announcing that the sun was hurting me.
It was 5pm. hah

30.6.07

Yet Another One...

One of the very nicest people of my acquaintance, lost her husband a day or so ago. It was not unexpected, nor untimely but it was still unwelcome.

Oh dear Mrs. T-A, I wish you well.

*hug

27.6.07

The Entitled

Reading and researching Elder Abuse claims can be harrowing stuff. Over and over you hear about these relatives left high and dry when the family are taken advantage of by a stranger.
It seems to be strictly about money and expectations. You read the sorrow and anger as estates are not what was expected. Sorrow and anger. Do you read about the quality of life of the Elder person? What their hopes and dreams were? Rarely. It is mostly about the *Entitled*.

Perhaps I have a different point of view because of my background. My Grandparents were not poor and my Grandfather left a sizable estate. Stock options, exclusive properties, and lots of cash were in his portfolio. My Grandfather was a self-made man; an immigrant who worked very hard to attain his wealth. He and his brothers all did very well indeed. Had my Grandfather lived past the 60 years he achieved, life would have been very different for my parents. As it was, the estate passed into the hands of my Grandmother who had no intentions of sharing with anyone.

I grew up watching bitter parents making nice for the sake of their possible futures. My grandmother meant more than money to me. She was a wonderful charming person with a frugal streak and no tolerance for extravagance. My parents were very extravagant and it is fortunate my Father also worked hard and achieved a very good lifestyle on his own merits.
This money inheritance stuff is not for me to brood upon. Of course I like money- who doesnt?
But I am not going to go the way of my Mother who died of colon cancer after decades of obsessing on her lost inheritance.

There is a middle way of course. I do not see much of it in my practice. What I do see are sons and daughters, nieces and nephews swooping in at the end of life and grabbing everything they can while casting a suspicious eye on the *hired help*. Hey, we had a private nurse steal sterling flatware from us too, but that never stopped us from believing the best in others.
I hope she needed it, that's all.

My other observation is that abovesaid relations frequently thank the Hospital Staff and Nurses for the fine care of their deceased, in those last hours, days, weeks. They never think to the people who kept their relation in the home happy and independant. They are too busy taking inventory.

One of the saddest things that happened to me was reading that a private funeral had taken place for my very favourite client. The obituary was placed after the private service. There was no closure for me other than my angel ritual at the beach. I would have liked to be present to honour her amongst other who felt the same way. I know the staff where she lived felt the same way. Empty and lost. But the Doctor and Nurses in that hospital got a huge thanks.

It isn't about being seen, it isn't about the thank you. It is about respect. The respect for your departed, knowing and understanding that the people who were close to them miss them too.
Loss. Sorrow. We need to grieve it to move on.

26.6.07

A Light Shining Deep Inside

Having just posted about two wonderful people now gone, I find a note on my desk about another.

The light shining deep inside me, is from interaction with the stars. Each soul that touches me fuels another flicker to share.

Not sure you can understand what I mean, but I just wanted you to know that nothing in life is ever wasted.

Not Unexpectedly, Alice leaves the building...

*Alice* was a very strong woman indeed. She was clever and talented and hugely compassionate. She was a founding member of a volunteer organization in Vancouver devoted to caring for those with disabilities. She had been a career civil servant and had been forced to retire in her early 50-s because of very ill-health.

Alice and I met a few years back when she was released from hospital after some infection or other had settled in on her refusing to leave on it's own. Alice had great Doctors, and knew her own treatment options backwards and forewards. Alice chose her own path, charting it with great care.
She never did anything without informed consent.

The disease ravaging Alice was merciless. She had a drug regime that was destroying her kidneys. She traded longevity for quality of life. Alice knew her days were dwindling but nothing prepared *me* for the day, not long ago, when during my visit she broke down and wept. I had no words of wisdom for her. All I could say was how difficult I knew it must be for her always being the strong one.

Alice had a longtime companion who was older than her. The companion did her best and they lived a good life. I knew it was trouble that day when Alice told me she was tired of it all. She wept and said she was sick of fighting, sick of being strong, sick of pretending everything was going to get better when she knew it was only going to be worse. She had just come home from a horrendous hospital stay in which 3 hell-nurses had sucked her hope away.

That of course is heresay. But Alice never lied to me about anything else and was always exceedingly kind and caring, even when her care was substandard. This last stay was different in some way. She had been vunerable for the first time in her life, in a way she was unused to, and these Nurses had gotten to her. They were trying to get her to do things for herself, telling her to get out of bed and do it herself. They told Alice over and over that she was capable.

A woman of such immense self-will, who had battled harder than most can imagine finally being tired and being rewarded with the "Do it yourself" routine. I have to tell you that even the dullest care-giver could tell at a glance that Alice had some huge problems to overcome. Her limbs were twisted and her body was bloated from kidney failure. Of course she could do it herself when she was well, but damnit she had not been well in years. And yet she HAD done it herself, day in and day out, getting only minimal support.

Alice thanked me when I left for listening. She asked me to pray for her. I heard two days later she was readmitted, hopefully not to the same floor. She passed on within a few days.

Alice, I know you are free now. I could never do what you did. I am not that gracious.
I know I did all I could for you, but I wish it was more and better.

This one hurts.
Farewell to another warrior.

A Swell Dame

It is another sad farewell. A person in their 90's passing on is not unexpected, yet in some instances it is quite too soon none-the-less. My dear client just departed was so very alive. She had a life-force you could feel.

When I met this woman, it came about in conversation, that I had grown up 2 blocks away from her home. She knew who my family were, all the Aunts and Uncles. We lived in *Shannon* district in Vancouver; just up from Marpole. Four of my close relatives lived in a 3 block area, one just across the street from where my client lived. Back in those years, *Shannon* was not the inner-city next to the Granville freeway, it was quaint and lovely with tree-lined streets. The neighbours were all long-time residents and people mostly all got along with each other. We knew the names of everyone on our street, both sides long, and they knew us.

"Carrie" had been married and widowed by the age of 35. She was an only child and had no children of her own. Once widowed, her father began to worry about her future. Carrie was comfortably well-off even before her husband's estate was settled on her. She did not work of course, but she did the rounds of Country Clubs and golf courses. She was the life of any party, and a grand hostess. A swell dame.

Under pressure from her Father she did indeed remarry in her late 40's. There were children from a prior marriage, but that did not bother her. Until later. When husband number 2 died, he wrote his will in an ambiguous way which, under legal (very expensive legal) scrutiny, left half of everything Carrie owned to his children. Half of everything Carrie had possession of, half of all she had inherited from her first husband and her father, was legally bequested to these children of his who wished immediate dispersal. They got some cash out of her and a legal promise for half of the proceeds of the sale of her home when at last she would sell.

Carrie had no plans to sell and continued to live on happily until she was declared legally blind.
Suddenly she was visited by a Doctor she did not know in her own home. Not many weeks later she was informed she was incompetent to make her own decisions and her home was put on the market and sold in record time. Her large Art collection contained many family pieces. Some of them were large sculptures.

What did not sell at auction for a song, went to her step-kids, against her wishes. A few cracked sculptures came along with her to the small 2 bedroom apartment in assisted living chosen for her. This was a huge change from her 4000 square foot home, and she was mad as hell for about a year. She told everyone who had ears to make sure to make their wills with caution.

Carrie did settle in eventually to live another 3 years in that place. She brought elegance and happiness and endeared herself to all. She was a great friend and a charming companion and enriched the life and soul of the place. Carrie is not replaceable. It is a terrible loss.

Her obituary somehow did not manage to catch her joy and spirit. It had several lines duly chronicling in black and white those step-relatives of hers. I am certain they believe they did what was right and proper under trying circumstance. No doubt they are congratulating themselves on a job well done as she lived on much longer than expected.

SO: listen to Carrie. Be sure to make a Will, an iron-clad will before you re-marry, and choose your Power of Attorney with great care. It may seem trivial at the time, but as years go on, the entitled need to be protected against. You think you won't care, but in my experience, most people care deeply.

Farewell Carrie, you were a swell.

25.6.07

I got *clean teeth*

Somehow, in my brain, that title is being sung to the Pointer Sister's "Steam Heat" melody line.
My teeth are spectacularly clean. They look fabulous, and feel even better. So I have to wear a retainer that makes me gag... bfd. It's worth it. They look good and I feel great. No more jawa cramping or painful nerve pain shooting behind my eye. It is all good.

I am over my bad-show-itis. Like an olde skin, I have shed it. Of course returning to my staid normalcy and work-a-4-day-week world helps oodles. It is good to be love-d. And you know what? My clients appreciate and love me. It floats my boat. I like feeling needed. I like working at something meaningful. (Even if I do dream about appraising at least once a week in full detail)
I also dream about being on stage at the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver. Sometimes I even dream about being on Network television. Oh there it is. My guilty secret out.

It is a source of deep and lasting bliss to me that when Hollywood came a-calling, I had the sense to say no. I can still see the guy from Paramount Pictures in my mind. Not many people say no I suppose. If I had said yes, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind I would be deceased. Or worse: world-famous with a huge addiction problem.

I dream it though. Heh.
For today, my clean teeth are my everything.
It is well with my soul.

24.6.07

Should have, could have, would have

It is called INTUITION for a reason. Sadly, mine was correct.

I sucked at the show. I mean, I really sucked. It surprised me, as I am usually spot on.
I even had some shakes goin on. ( !! )

I arrived 35 mins before show because of another committment. When I walked in to a full house, I realised I had gotten the time wrong. It was 5 minutes to show. *Five*

The Stage Manager did not have a mic for me set up. "Öh, do you need one?"
--ya think?
Anyway I sucked. Gave my cribs to someone else for the later performance.
Apparantly he did NOT suck. Thats great. My day is done.

Perhaps I won't do the little theatre gig this summer.
It's been awhile since I did a bad job. I wasnt totally bad, but noticably not good.
---bleh
We all have bad shows. Like bad days they are best forgotten.