I know that there were many prayers offered,
candles lit and
thoughts in my direction over the last few days.
Thank you one and all.
Please be patient with me as I become accustomed to the foreign object that now lives within my body.
I’m hoping the winter will be kind.
Remember it is Friday…. I think! So come join the LBCers at 5pm my time.
This is Carers Week, from 8th to the 14th June.
In the UK 185,000 *people provide unpaid care to someone they know, they are the invisible workforce and are, quite literally, indispensable. By providing unpaid care for someone who is ill, frail or disabled, they save the economy an incredible £87 billion per year.
3 in 5 people will be carers at some point in their lives - carers often face a lack of recognition from employers, GPs and social workers, even friends and family. The main consequence of this lack of recognition is that carers suffer more than they need to. Carers struggle with their finances (Carer’s Allowance at £53.10 is the lowest benefit of its kind), health, job, social life and general wellbeing.
They becomes invisible while providing the care, at times it is round the clock without relief. In hospital or nursing home situations, the staff change shift at least every eight hours if not sooner.
If you know someone in a Caring role, give them a little time this week, make them a coffee (and wash up afterward!) sit and really listen or offer to relieve them for an hour or two.
You will never miss the time!
UPDATE: The figure 185,000 above is actually for Northern Ireland and not the whole of the UK, it is more like six million.
My Toyboy did well!
He jumped for a Granny & Carelocal.ie
Before:
Darragh in the centre geared up and ready to go, photo by Niamh
During:
Photo taken and tweeted from his mobile phone from the air as the parachute opened by Darragh .
Back on the ground shortly after 2pm:
Not sure he can believe he did it. Photo by Niamh.
Congratulations Darragh! You have put smiles on many faces today.
A wonderfully high note to end a very low week!
You all know I like Toyboys.
I will admit to being biased about one of them. The trouble is that he has flipped….
Well soon he will have flipped BIG TIME!
He never stops moving, working or thinking. Finally Mulley found a deceleration device to really slow him down, once and for all.
Mediacontact.ie are organising a MediaDive. They’re getting brave souls to go up in a plane and do a tandem skydive from 13,000 feet. That’s just off four kilometers.
So the brave Darragh will be scared stiff, have fun and help others all in one go.
Darragh has agreed to jump out of a plane for a Granny. No! I did not say for Grannymar, but he will do it for people like me who live alone, are perhaps frail and in need of visitors, treats and the odd outing. Living alone is fine when you are fit and healthy, have family nearby and are able to get about and see friends. It is totally different when you are unwell. Not being able to get about, you are very soon out of the loop and forgotten. Intentions are good but people are busy and they become friends with the phrase “I/we must invite/visit/phone (insert name)”.
You may be kind to your Granny, you may not have one, but one thing sure before you realise it, you will be that old person wishing for a visitor. Today you can do something to show you care - visit here and donate the price of a couple of drinks or that packet of fags that are bad for you. I guarantee you will feel good if you do.
In anticipation, (as they used to say at the end of letters)
On behalf of all the Grannies out there I say thank you!
The sound of the boiler rumbled through the neighbourhood day and night for several weeks. There was no sign of the car or anyone coming or going from the house. The weeds grew to knee height, the windows took on a greyish tinge and the paths were un-swept with a fresh layer of leaves, grime and general rubbish delivered on every gust of wind. The blinds were unmoved.
The phone twittered and thrilled unanswered several times on any given day. The mound of post in the hallway increased with each new delivery. Soon there would be no space left for the letters to fall.
Used and unwashed dished cluttered the draining board. The remains of meals dried and congealed on the plates were enough to feed a four-course feast to a family of vermin. All the used beakers were lined up like a guard of honour on the windowsill and the contents of the cutlery drawer, all dirty, were scattered in the sink.
On the table were several bottles of pills…. Some full, others open and lying on their sides while a trail of multi-coloured sweet like shapes was scattered across the floor.
The hands on the clock remained at ten past two no matter what the hour, day or night. The shower, bath and wash basin remained unused for many a day and the furniture throughout the house was protected by a six inch layer of dust.
Nobody had a key.
Nobody tried to enter.
Neighbours talked in hushed voices but didn’t want to become involved….
A serious situation indeed! Who would be brave enough to make the first move?
There was no easy way round it; it had to be done…
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“I think it is time to give this blogging a rest”!
With thanks to Laura for the timely reminder and Image.
For several years now we have set aside the month of October as a time to draw awareness to the scourge of Breast Cancer. We all need to be aware and do what we can to help eradicate it.
We must not however allow it to draw a veil over all the other Cancer sufferers out there.
Cancer has played a part in my life story and taken away loved ones and friends over the years. I am also travelling the road with several good friends as they journey through the minefield that Cancer is. These wonderful people have taught me acceptance, patience and how to take life one day at a time and I am thankful to have known them and have them touch my soul.
Tomorrow I hope to include the Pink for October link.
There are times in life when I walk a tightrope.
Sometimes it is by choice yet on occasions it is because I am drawn into a situation or life of another person. Part of the problem is that I am more of a listener than a talker. I have always loved voices and accents. Give me Anthony Hopkins or Richard Burton and the knees go a wobbling!
Being a people person I love back stories and learning what brings people to the place in life they now inhabit. For some it is pure happenstance, while for others it is a series of unfortunate or unexpected events. Sometimes the road seems level, coloured by flowers of joy and contentment, yet for others the path is rocky and rough causing many a stumble or fall along the way.
I don’t like to see any of my friends struggling and the ‘mother’ in me wants to help. Of course my idea of help may seem like interference to somebody else. Removed from a situation we all see things differently. It is a privilege to be asked for advice and it is all the more rewarding when it is accepted, and the person is able to deal with and move on from the problem.
There is one thing sure and that is I will not be bribed. Any information entrusted to me in confidence will not be passed on.
I have no professional training, yet over the years I have listened and talked to many people from different walks of life. Only once have I failed, and failed badly in my book. The person in question at times phoned me two and three times a day. I made myself available whenever they wanted to talk. They wanted to talk and asked my advice, but for every suggestion I made they found an obstacle. These conversations went on over two years. At times they heard but didn’t listen, eventually I realised that the depressed mood was affecting me and the person in question had become so used to wallowing that it had become a way of life. They refused to seek professional help.
I stepped back. I had to. If I let the birds of depression land on my shoulders who would be there to help me? Was I selfish? Did I do wrong?
What would you do?
I have an acquaintance with a life sentence!
She has received the news none of us want to hear. The illness she has is not curable and the time scale is very short. Three young children wander about the house bewildered because they know something is wrong, yet they do not know what it is. Mum is prone to crying and dad and granny are constantly trying to reassure her.
Mum realises that she will never see her children grow up, not be there for many more birthdays, or family celebrations, or to comfort them in times of need. She worries that they might forget her. Or that they will remember her as the person always lying under a rug on the couch crying.
She has baby name tags, early pictures, bootees, baby toys and locks of hair in a treasure box. I have suggested to her to have three boxes, one for each child with their name on it, in her own handwriting. Then place the items for each child in their special box. Next I suggested that she write letters to each child in turn.
“Start writing now”, I said; “beginning with how you felt when you heard that they were expected, the planning and preparations for their arrival”. I suggested she tell them how special they are and about the little things that made her heart sing. Write about her feelings for them now, and of all the hopes and dreams she carries for them.
Put each letter in an envelope and seal it, Put each child’s name, and the date when you want them to get it, on the front. Think about this date, 18th, 21st birthdays of even on your death.
What better gift can a mother give!
While writing this I received an email from a dear friend. The attachment was a story:
The Mayonnaise Jar and 2 Cups of Coffee
When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes.”
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.
“Now,” said the professor as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognise that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things…. Your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favourite passions— and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.
The sand is everything else— the small stuff. “If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.
“Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and put out the rubbish. Take care of the golf balls first- the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.
The professor smiled and said, “I’m glad you asked.”
The coffee just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.
BBC Radio 4 is devoting the month of January to Care in the community. Discussions this week dealt with Dementia and Alzheimer’s. ‘Women’s Hour’ and ‘You and Yours’ approach the problems from different angles. Each day a Podcast of the programme is available, and if you have an aging parent, or are at the butt end of the nursing home jokes, they are worth a listen. There is something to learn for everybody.
One horrendous fact I learned on Wednesday was that for 2008-09 if someone foster’s a young child the allowances are about £121.68 per week. Yet if you are a full time carer for the elderly the allowances are £48.00 per week and that is means tested! If the carer earns over £100 per week the allowance is reduced. If the same patient is admitted to a Nursing Home or Home for the Elderly, the fees range from £500-£600 per week. Very often when someone ill remains within their home it falls to one person to provide the care 24/7 (£48.00), while in a Nursing home the staff change at least every eight hours providing fresh energy to look after the patient.
There is a lot to be said for a fatal heart attack!
Will the person nearest my Elly at this moment, give her the Kiss-of-Life and drag her up off the floor! I can do nothing these days because she worries about me so much.
Is she upright again?
Well then I will begin.
Following a Power cut on a Monday the other week I have experienced fluctuation with the light levels every evening. At first I thought it was my eyes. The lights dimmed but did not go out. After about an hour or sometimes two they went back to normal. Now I am not a heavy user of electricity. Lights in the living room were on as were the computer & the radio. My oil fired central heating was pumping away and the place was warm. The fridge/freezer was working normally and several clocks through the house were showing the correct time. The only problem was with the lights.
This continued to happen three nights in a row. A little worried that the power might be cut again I decided to phone my provider NIE (Northern Ireland Electricity) on the Thursday evening. I spoke to a very nice young lady and she seemed rather puzzled by my query. She was aware of the break in power on the Monday and said she would pass the message on to the engineers so that they could check things out the next day.
I explained very briefly my health situation and my need for heat, light and access to a working telephone in case of emergency. Immediately she said “You are not on our Critical list!”
“Critical List” I said “What’s that?”
She told me that NIE offers a critical care information service to customers who have health issues or are dependent on life supporting electrical equipment. Once registered with NIE they can provide up to date information during a power cut or a planned interruption. If I need to call them my number would be recognised and I would be given priority.
I never realised this service was available. Did You?
So if you live in Norn Iron and know of anyone in any of the situations listed above then tell them to call NIE. If you live anywhere else in the wider world, check out your electricity provider. Who knows when you might need the service I hope you never do.
