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Home Truths – Post 2
Officially a series
So I’ve decided to make this a series; Home Truths!
It will all be about my experiences seeing Mum at the home, and the hilarity (mostly) that ensues!
This episode is titled after the classic Monty Python sketch.
It’s the one about the Australian University of Woolamaloo, where the latest member of the Philosophy Department: Michael Baldwin, causes utter bewilderment to the four existing members; Bruce, Bruce, Bruce and… oh yeah… Bruce.
They immediately ask if he would mind being called Bruce to avoid confusion.
The Janes
Mum’s version of this is that she calls everyone Jane, myself being the only exclusion to the rule at the moment.
Jane is my wife, and a more amazing human being you’re less likely to meet.
She’s one of the most kind and caring people I’ve ever met.
There’s no expectation of a return of that kindness, she’s just kind for the sake of being kind.
Tonight for instance one of the other ladies in the home, Julie, slowly shuffled her way down the hall and into the conservatory where we were sitting.
Julie is very quiet and sweet lady who often asks if you’ve seen her mum (She’s in her 70’s easily).
Having watched her slowly make her way down the ramp between the hall and conservatory, she stopped, floundering.
She was just at the furthest point she could get to without having anything to hold on to, seemingly not really knowing what to do next.
Jane went over and spoke to her, asked her if she wanted to come and sit with us.
This was a journey of about another three steps for us, but a very clear and real effort for Julie.
Jane helped her to a chair and then sat talking to her for a good 15 minutes stroking her hand.
She doesn’t know Julie other than seeing her around the home a couple of times, and it was just the loveliest thing to watch them interact.
That’s the sort of person Jane is though, and my mum has clearly seen this in her and taken to her, despite them only knowing each other since 2018.
I had worried that with her memory regressing she might start calling Jane by my exes name, who she had known since 1999.
That would obviously have been shitter than the contents of half the residents underwear.
Mum obviously thought a great deal of Jane though before her mind wandered off to Woolamaloo, as now her name has stuck.
It’s Jane-ing Men
One of my favourite examples was a few weeks ago.
Myself, Jane and mum were sat in the conservatory at the home on a weekend, with two other ladies and a man.
She called both the other ladies Jane in passing, and we explained to mum that one of them was called Irene and the other one Molly.
The gentleman at this point turned to me and said “I wouldn’t worry, she calls me Jane too”.
Obviously it was quite hard to supress our laughter.
In all reality though they are all going to be Jane whether they like it or not, so I guess they better get used to it.
“Jane’s lovely” mum will say and she will mean my Jane.
She’ll then look up the hallway from the conservatory and spy one of the other ladies shuffling about on a frame and say “Jane’s gone into the lounge”
It’s a little reminiscent of a part of Robin Williams’ stand up routine in Live from the Met when he’s talking about the stresses of parenting…
“…and just when you’re about to play hand-baby, he looks up at you with those big brown eyes and says ‘Daddy!’ and you go aaaww. Then, he looks at the dog and goes ‘Daddy!’ and the dog says ‘hey, I don’t have to send him to college’…”
Tonight Matthew I’m going to be… Jane
So tonight there were only a few Janes.
There was my Jane, her friend Irene (Jane) in the lounge, and Julie (also Jane) who came to see us as I mentioned.
Oh tell a lie; she did mention another Jane in passing in regards to taking the bus to Ipswich that day (which she used to take regularly but hasn’t in almost 2 years).
I cannot sadly tell you the real name of this Jane as I’m not sure which resident (if any of them) she was referring to.
“She’s a funny lady” mum said looking at Julie, “Look who’s talking” I said.
“She doesn’t know what to do”, and as I swapped my gaze from Mum to Julie I knew she was right.
The thing is, it also felt like an admission on her part that she feels the same way.
Mum has said as much a few times.
Say what you see
This leads us though to one of mum’s trickier symptoms: a lack of inner monologue.
Julie, as I mentioned, is very quiet and moves very slowly, often not talking at all. To Mum this is “strange”.
She’s said this about a number of the other residents there, generally the ones who don’t interact with her in the way she expects.
There used to be a man who would spend his whole day walking the downstairs of the home.
He wouldn’t say anything except whispered warnings about god every now and then.
She said he was strange too.
Like a toddler, she has no real filter, and I do find it hard to deal with sometimes, especially if I think she’s being cruel about someone who doesn’t deserve it, like Julie.
Don’t get me wrong, so far we’ve got off lightly with Mum.
She’s generally in good spirits and always laughing while we’re there. She’s not abusive or mean or angry, at least not with us.
There has been the odd “leave me alone” aimed at a carer though and apparently, according to one, she said she hated her, only to turn round a minute later and tell her she was a lovely lady.
I know I should let things go and I’m so much better at it that I used to be, but I hate it when she punches down.
I guess I should be happy she still can.
Some are not so lucky but we’ll come to that in the next instalment.
