When Uncle Archie worked out who I was on Wednesday, he quickly tried to pin me down to take him out for lunch. Robyn had offered me her car but I had preferred to travel by bus so I told he would have to settle for a trip to MacDonalds for coffee. I borrowed Mum’s wheelchair, bundled him in and set off. It’s probably a kilometre from the nursing home to Macca’s but the chair travels smoothly and I’m just about fit enough for the round trip without having to carry oxygen.
It was quite a pleasant trip and I know he likes a laugh even at his own expense. He always tries to chat up waitresses or girls in the lift but I just warn them he’s a cheeky bugger and he laughs. He wants me to talk about what I’m doing and it doesn’t matter how often I tell him the same stories, he appreciates them. Perhaps, he really has a goldfish memory and nothing sticks for more than a few seconds. When I mention names, he says, ‘A wee minute,’ while he tries to work out who they are, and that even applies to names like Marilyn or Jamie, or Sandy, who sees him three times a week.
I know he has stopped telling me about his life and I reckon that’s because he has lost the ability to see it as a coherent whole. He might remember snippets but doesn’t remember the context. I asked him whether he had ever been to India. Oh, yes, he said, but had no idea which city or when. In fact, I don’t think he has ever been.
Today, after the success of yesterday’s coffee outing, I had promised to take him to lunch. I asked the staff to have him ready by 11 o’clock and, when I came in at that time, I found him sitting the wheelchair, dressed for going out, but no idea what it was all about. Unhappily, he was in the home’s wheelchair which is used by all and sundry and, when I had been pushing it for a couple of hundred metres, I realized one of the tyres was somewhat flat. No matter, press on, John!
I was uncomfortable about taking him into the Wollongong Mall because I imagined he would notice his bank and ask me to take him in to get some money. Four or five years ago, I had to apply for Guardianship of his funds to stop them disappearing into the pockets of strangers and his requests for me to get money from the bank have been constant.
I knew there were a few restaurants at the bottom of the main street so we headed for that area. It was quite interesting: we had a choice of Vietnamese, Thai, Spanish, Italian, Greek and Indian without having to search around. Indian sounded good so in we went. The people who ran it were very nice but they were certainly not set up for wheelchairs – step at the door to impede progress and too little room between the tables. There weren’t many customers and we were early so adjustments were made and we gave the order. He doesn’t eat much so I ordered entrée-size garlic prawns for both of us and a serving of lamb kebabs to share. We also had a glass of NZ Sauvignon Blanc to wash it down.
As I said, we didn’t have much room so, when a party of 7 men came in and they were seated right next to us, I wondered about the spatial awareness of the waitress. All her customers crowded into one corner didn’t seem like good sense. However, the food was great and he ate all his own prawns and two of mine so he must have enjoyed them.
I was telling him about a shop in town where all the books were only $5 and he just had to see it. From the restaurant to the bookshop was up (and I emphasise UP) the main street. Pushing this elderly gentleman in a wheelchair with a flat tyre soon lost its glamour and I was panting when we arrived. I think he enjoyed looking in the shops; he was particularly drawn to shoe shops but he has enough pairs of shoes to start his own shop, so I gently dissuaded him from buying any more.
Let’s have a cup of coffee, he said, when I was just about ready to take him home. I don’t think he really likes coffee because he rarely finishes his cup, but I suspect it’s one of the social cues he learned in life and it’s now an automatic ‘filler’ he drops into conversations. OK, I’ll go along with it and we find a coffee shop. When I ask him what he would like to eat, he always refuses but I’ve got into the habit of ordering something for him anyway and he always eats it. He managed to stretch the coffee stop out long after I had finished mine. I had been watching the clouds build up so I finally put my foot down and wheeled him away, saying that we didn’t want to be caught in the rain.
Don’t worry, he said, a little rain never hurt anyone. That didn’t stop him ordering me to keep under the awnings and hurry because he was getting wet. Anyway, the rain didn’t hurt him and we got back in one piece, even if a little damp.
Mum, who had not recognized me in the morning, was no more focused in the afternoon. I sat with her for a little while but she wouldn’t let me hold her hand and seemed compelled to sing her songs. I don’t know whether the singing helps her but it’s almost as if there is a desperation to sing. I had never imagined that hearing her sing would have been so troubling.
It was quite a pleasant trip and I know he likes a laugh even at his own expense. He always tries to chat up waitresses or girls in the lift but I just warn them he’s a cheeky bugger and he laughs. He wants me to talk about what I’m doing and it doesn’t matter how often I tell him the same stories, he appreciates them. Perhaps, he really has a goldfish memory and nothing sticks for more than a few seconds. When I mention names, he says, ‘A wee minute,’ while he tries to work out who they are, and that even applies to names like Marilyn or Jamie, or Sandy, who sees him three times a week.
I know he has stopped telling me about his life and I reckon that’s because he has lost the ability to see it as a coherent whole. He might remember snippets but doesn’t remember the context. I asked him whether he had ever been to India. Oh, yes, he said, but had no idea which city or when. In fact, I don’t think he has ever been.
Today, after the success of yesterday’s coffee outing, I had promised to take him to lunch. I asked the staff to have him ready by 11 o’clock and, when I came in at that time, I found him sitting the wheelchair, dressed for going out, but no idea what it was all about. Unhappily, he was in the home’s wheelchair which is used by all and sundry and, when I had been pushing it for a couple of hundred metres, I realized one of the tyres was somewhat flat. No matter, press on, John!
I was uncomfortable about taking him into the Wollongong Mall because I imagined he would notice his bank and ask me to take him in to get some money. Four or five years ago, I had to apply for Guardianship of his funds to stop them disappearing into the pockets of strangers and his requests for me to get money from the bank have been constant.
I knew there were a few restaurants at the bottom of the main street so we headed for that area. It was quite interesting: we had a choice of Vietnamese, Thai, Spanish, Italian, Greek and Indian without having to search around. Indian sounded good so in we went. The people who ran it were very nice but they were certainly not set up for wheelchairs – step at the door to impede progress and too little room between the tables. There weren’t many customers and we were early so adjustments were made and we gave the order. He doesn’t eat much so I ordered entrée-size garlic prawns for both of us and a serving of lamb kebabs to share. We also had a glass of NZ Sauvignon Blanc to wash it down.
As I said, we didn’t have much room so, when a party of 7 men came in and they were seated right next to us, I wondered about the spatial awareness of the waitress. All her customers crowded into one corner didn’t seem like good sense. However, the food was great and he ate all his own prawns and two of mine so he must have enjoyed them.
I was telling him about a shop in town where all the books were only $5 and he just had to see it. From the restaurant to the bookshop was up (and I emphasise UP) the main street. Pushing this elderly gentleman in a wheelchair with a flat tyre soon lost its glamour and I was panting when we arrived. I think he enjoyed looking in the shops; he was particularly drawn to shoe shops but he has enough pairs of shoes to start his own shop, so I gently dissuaded him from buying any more.
Let’s have a cup of coffee, he said, when I was just about ready to take him home. I don’t think he really likes coffee because he rarely finishes his cup, but I suspect it’s one of the social cues he learned in life and it’s now an automatic ‘filler’ he drops into conversations. OK, I’ll go along with it and we find a coffee shop. When I ask him what he would like to eat, he always refuses but I’ve got into the habit of ordering something for him anyway and he always eats it. He managed to stretch the coffee stop out long after I had finished mine. I had been watching the clouds build up so I finally put my foot down and wheeled him away, saying that we didn’t want to be caught in the rain.
Don’t worry, he said, a little rain never hurt anyone. That didn’t stop him ordering me to keep under the awnings and hurry because he was getting wet. Anyway, the rain didn’t hurt him and we got back in one piece, even if a little damp.
Mum, who had not recognized me in the morning, was no more focused in the afternoon. I sat with her for a little while but she wouldn’t let me hold her hand and seemed compelled to sing her songs. I don’t know whether the singing helps her but it’s almost as if there is a desperation to sing. I had never imagined that hearing her sing would have been so troubling.
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