Notes From A Small Village
Jul. 19th, 2020 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
f4f3Apparently there's some sort of a lock down going on, but it's largely passed me by. At least until now, when I should be getting ready to take M to Austria for a birthday opera, and gearing up for the Edinburgh Festival. The lack of Festival isn't going to hit me the way it does the natives - it's been part of M's August for all of her adult life - but I will miss it. For me it's the late-night buzz around the Pleasance, and the hit and miss of seeing six shows in a day. Ah well, next year.
My company pivoted pretty quickly to home-working, as you'd hope it would, being a global IT firm with a good view of how things were playing out in Asia. One Monday in March we were asked to work from home on Friday, as a test, and we haven't been back since. The company are doing a phased return from August, but my team haven't been told to come back at all - I staged a raid on the office for my chair and two monitors, and I'm ensconced comfortably in our study. The only complaint I have is that it's a little dull in there, since there's thick brush outside the window. A wren was building a nest there earlier this summer, so it won't be getting cut back quite yet.
I'm fully aware of how lucky I am. No one in my close family has caught the virus, we have a detached cottage with room for all plus pets, and I've managed to keep working. So no complaints from me. The lack of sun is a bit of a bugger. I bought an extra week's holiday this year, which means I now have about six weeks to fit in between now and the end of the year. We have tickets to fly to Prague in September (a birthday gift to me) and I'm hopeful we'll be able to use them. I really wanted to do a drive to the South of France too, and maybe cross some more borders before they're closed to Brits, as we enjoy our freedom of movement, but it looks like that may be, literally, no-go. And that's something I won't be able to do next year.
But, on the whole, life is good. There's some pretty heavy duty pet-care going on just now, but again, that's inevitable when your spaniel is pushing 17.
Hey ho, and on with the motley...
My company pivoted pretty quickly to home-working, as you'd hope it would, being a global IT firm with a good view of how things were playing out in Asia. One Monday in March we were asked to work from home on Friday, as a test, and we haven't been back since. The company are doing a phased return from August, but my team haven't been told to come back at all - I staged a raid on the office for my chair and two monitors, and I'm ensconced comfortably in our study. The only complaint I have is that it's a little dull in there, since there's thick brush outside the window. A wren was building a nest there earlier this summer, so it won't be getting cut back quite yet.
I'm fully aware of how lucky I am. No one in my close family has caught the virus, we have a detached cottage with room for all plus pets, and I've managed to keep working. So no complaints from me. The lack of sun is a bit of a bugger. I bought an extra week's holiday this year, which means I now have about six weeks to fit in between now and the end of the year. We have tickets to fly to Prague in September (a birthday gift to me) and I'm hopeful we'll be able to use them. I really wanted to do a drive to the South of France too, and maybe cross some more borders before they're closed to Brits, as we enjoy our freedom of movement, but it looks like that may be, literally, no-go. And that's something I won't be able to do next year.
But, on the whole, life is good. There's some pretty heavy duty pet-care going on just now, but again, that's inevitable when your spaniel is pushing 17.
Hey ho, and on with the motley...
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Date: 2020-07-22 12:01 pm (UTC)He was always unfailingly polite to me, as well as a witty and fascinating person to talk with. I hope he gets as much comfort as possible when dealing with this terrible disease. I also know how much he means to you, and I hope you get to spend time with him soon.
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Date: 2020-07-22 12:06 pm (UTC)He really, really liked you. That's not his usual setting.
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Date: 2020-07-23 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-07-22 12:08 pm (UTC)I count myself lucky, though, Michael, and I mustn't leave you thinking otherwise. This is awful, and particularly (as you say) considering who he was. But we can afford to get at least some help, which most people in the social care system can't; I can't begin to imagine what that must be like. My mother, who turned 82 on Monday, has the appearance and stamina of a woman in her late sixties. And we are close. I talk to both of them every day, and although talking to him is harrowing, it is also filled with love. My mother, Char and I message nearly every day. I would not trade this for a family that has fewer challenges but is less deeply attached, and I know you'd feel the same.
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Date: 2020-07-23 02:27 pm (UTC)My Gran stayed on her own into her late 80s, and only moved into sheltered accommodation when her dementia started to be dangerous (she started leaving the cooker on, mostly). I remember having perfectly lucid conversations with her about visits from old friends - who had been dead 40 years - but she still did her own shopping and, as my mum pointed out, walked in and out of town up steep hills.
My mum visited her daily, once she'd moved into sheltered care, and she was mostly happy until she passed away, at 95.
Why am I telling you this? There were some bad times with the dementia (times when she begged us to let her die) but those passed, and she forgot them almost instantly. What mattered to her was that we spent time with her, even if she thought I was my dad, or my sister was our mum. I hope you have many happy time ahead with J.
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Date: 2020-07-24 06:53 am (UTC)This is really beautiful. It sounds like your family handled it amazingly. It can be so tough.
Jeremy has aphasia. It is the most awful thing. His thinking is often perfectly lucid, but the words that come out of his mouth aren't the ones he intends, so the people around him can't understand them. His sentences are grammatically correct, but Chomskyan: "I have too many copies of my foot." So spending time with us is often painful for him, because he can't make himself understood, and for us as we strive to interpret what he meant.
There is so much love, though. I can't begin to tell you. At times I find myself thinking, "This is what it would be like to have a child." I mean, I love Weezie (my niece) to distraction, but not with quite the same tenderness and intensity.
TL; DR: it's a beautiful experience and I would not trade it, even though it's heartbreaking. I miss him, though.