Well, good morning Mr Blackbird!

Posted on January 26, 2022 by thepogblog

‘Why are you out here gardening on your own, Mum?’

‘I thought I’d get started.  I’ve only fallen over once.’

It’s a freezing cold morning, full of grey dampness. Mum already has dirty trousers from falling over, and looks like a small child whose been caught out.  I usher her inside to warm up and she starts talking about the blackbird that’s been helping her.

Inside Mum’s head must be like an Aladdin’s cave.  All sorts happens in there and there seems to be no distinction between reality and fiction.  So, while a friendly blackbird seems lovely, I’ve no idea if it’s just the sort that flits around inside her head.

Smile and nod, smile and nod…

With Mum warmed up after her gardening and me after a cold drive down, we bundle ourselves back up and outside to tackle Mum’s leaf collecting plans.  I stop counting after emptying ten wheelie bin loads of wet leaves back into the woods that blew them into the hedgerow a few months ago, wondering what the likelihood is that next week they will have just blown straight back and we’ll have some sort of ground hog day.

Wet leaves are heavy.  The quiet of working alongside Mum who doesn’t have the puff to chat and sweep is light.

A strange whistling sound seeps into my head.  I look around for it and realise it’s coming from Mum, and she is staring intently at the ground, a few feet from her feet.  Mum has always been terrible at whistling, and I’m torn between laughing and tears at the earnestness involved – she’s slightly bent over, forehead wrinkled in concentration.  Then I see it.  Mr Blackbird is hopping around in from of mum.  The whistling is Mums attempt at communication.

‘Can you see him?’ she stage whispers as he flies off back under the hedge.

‘I can see him Mum.’ I smile.

Mr Blackbird came back to work with us for the hour we were out there and then for the hour I carried on alone after making Mum go and rest.

He’s a happy presence and I’m pleased he was with Mum earlier.  He’s completely rubbish at helping her up when she falls though, so I made Mum promise (again) only to garden when someone else is at home, just in case.  Tears plopped down her face but she agreed.

It must be shit when the only creature not judging you and your ability to stay vertical is a blackbird.  But he makes Mum smile.  And try to whistle…. What a lovely blackbird he is.

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Ooops

Posted on January 11, 2022 by thepogblog

I only just came back and I already fell out of the habit!

So here is a quick one:

Last week mum and I want to exchange a pair of her trousers.  This was quite an event as we threw in a coffee as well just to make it into a proper outing (and because my Mum seems to need eleventy billion cups of coffee a day).

We passed some dresses.  mum said they might be quite nice to wear to my wedding (I know, I know, if you’ve been around a while and missed my update you might need a sit down / cup of tea / stiff drink right about now.  This Pog who was a committed cat lady spinster with a crochet habit is getting married…this year!)

Mum mused about the dresses she wore to Sister 1 and Sister 2’s weddings.  I have made an effort to nod and agree with Mum at all times now, but I felt like this wasn’t a time to do that so I reminded her that Sister 2 isn’t actually married.

‘But I have been to two of the twins weddings’, Mum said.

‘Weeeelllll.  You’ve been to two weddings between them, but they were the same twin.  Sister 2 isn’t married and Sister 1 has been married twice.’

I thought Mum might need a sit down / cup of tea / stiff drink right about that point.  We went for that coffee though.  Strong coffee.  And then we both laughed…because you have to, don’t you?

(Sorry, Sister 1!)

Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

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Being a teddy bear

Posted on November 30, 2021 by thepogblog

I remember a friend telling me about teddy bear syndrome years ago. It’s what happens when someone hurts and they take it out on those closest to them. (Their teddy. Because a teddy forgives anything, doesn’t it?)

Two weeks ago when I looked after Mum she told me (among all sorts of other things) ‘you have been an awful person since the day you were born’. It hurt. It still hurts. Today she shouted at me for moving the kettle out of her way with ‘why are you trying to burn me with the boiling water?’ I’m pretty sure I shouted back at the stupidity of that accusation, which was probably wrong of me, but then we somehow moved on to ‘I don’t need you; I have two other daughters who will look after me.’ Both times she told me she would rather be on her own than spend time with me.

This morning I was working by 7am to get an hour and a half in before I drove to Mums. I usually start again as soon as I get back at 3pm and finish work about 8pm. Yesterday was and tomorrow will be longer to make up for the time I was there today. My days are busy but I don’t begrudge it – they are my parents and it is my turn to look after them.

So I am kind of appalled at myself that today Mums comments were just too much and I left. I walked out the house, got in my car and left her. I went to see Dad (who goes out when I am there) and apologised but the upshot is that I came back, because Mum can’t be left, whatever she says to me. I am her teddy bear.

As I wrote this though, sitting at their kitchen table trying to work out how you move on from this point, I felt like a very battered and tatty teddy bear who just wanted to be told she is loved.

(Note: I said there would be no filter on the blog this time and I thought over and over about hitting publish. I know there are no smiles, and sorry for that, but if this helps one other teddy bear feel less alone, then it’s worth it.x )

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Oh arse. Sheep arse.

Posted on November 18, 2021 by thepogblog

I have sat here all day, running client Zooms sessions.  It wasn’t until the fifth session, as I waited for my client to log on that I looked at the view behind me.  And realised that the toy sheep on top of the wardrobe have decided to make their own entertainment and appear to be…doing sheep rudies.

Most hypnotherapists seem to have branded backgrounds, or peaceful scenes or beautiful offices behind them when they work online.  I have shagging sheep.  Of course I do.

:o)

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Dancing in the strobe lights

Posted on November 11, 2021 by thepogblog

I went to the hair dressers on Wednesday – it was the second time since covid started that I’ve been.  When you’re as infrequent as me they just give you anyone and this time the tiny lady with the scissors was a lovely smiley person and we chatted lots.  And at one point something made me ask her age.  Twenty Two.  ‘So how old um…is your Mum?’ blurted out my mouth before I had time to swallow back the thought.  Forty five.  The same age as me.  I knew tiny scissor hands was younger than me, but…well, frankly I am deluded about my age and was a little traumatised to realise she really could have been my daughter.  She very kindly told me that she’d ‘never have thought I was that old’ though so I was….kind of ok about it.

Anyway, I told her that the next night I was going to see Fatboy Slim and had spent the mornings dog walk wondering if I could get away with wearing my gym trainers as they are my most comfortable ones….and then wondered if leggings was taking it too far.

It turns out though – according to tiny scissor hands –  that the night out uniform of my early 20’s of ‘jeans and a sparkly top’ is no longer essential and I could absolutely look like I was off to the gym.

I didn’t do that though.  I may not go out that much these days (especially the last few years) but old habits die hard:  Jeans and a sparkly top it was.  With trainers (but not gym ones).

It was blimin’ amazing.  That feeling of the bass vibrating through your body, people watching everyone from men my Dad’s age raving away in their own little bubble, to the lady on her own with the very sparkly dress and huge platform trainers to the teens bought along by their mums and, I imagine, seeing them in a whole new light.  I saw me in a whole new light.  I used to have to be very drunk to set foot on the dance floor but apparently that changes with age.  Himself and I were dancing to the support act from the moment we walked in and didn’t stop all night.

I might be a long way from twenty two, but it seems I can still dance the night away.

…it’s just everything REALLY hurts from the moment you leave until…well, almost 24 hours and counting.

I’m almost ready to do it again though….and it’s a lot more effective steps wise than a circuits class! :o)

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Laughing through numbers and names

Posted on November 2, 2021 by thepogblog

Today was a good day.

Today there were only a few tears and then so much laughing I left Mum and Dad’s house wheezing…

Because today an Occupational Therapist visited to help Mum bake a cake.  Mum told me last week she was ‘perfectly capable of doing it on my own’, but sometimes I guess we have to stare  truth in the eyes to understand it for ourselves.  My role was observer, to learn the best way to support Mum in these sorts of things.  The OTs role was to help mum learn to problem solve for herself.

It is SO bloody difficult to watch your mum struggle to work out how much butter she needs, find the butter, forget what she’s doing, realise she needs something to weigh it out, forget where the butter is, forget how much she needs and get told not to step in to tell her she needs a bowl, because that’s how she will learn to problem solve.  And of course, by the time she’s realised she needs a ‘thing’ and that ‘thing’ is actually called a bowl and remember where the bowls are kept in the kitchen and gets it out, she’d forgotten what she’s weighing out and how much she needs.  And that’s just the first bloody ingredient. The OT had the patience of a saint.

I find it hard at time like those to focus on how well Mum has done since her stroke and not to mourn the fact that Mum who could whip up a fruit cake without thinking about it between pruning the roses and cleaning the bathroom has gone.

When the OT left and we got the finished product out of the oven I think it hit mum too and while I told her how proud I was of her and how proud she should feel of herself, she cried. Then she got proud :o)

Just look at that pride. She even floofed her hair and took off her glasses for the photo :o)

One of the things that had been a real struggle with the baking was reading and understanding numbers (to weigh out the ingredients etc), so we decided to look at some cook books to plan what the next cook off would be and practice the numbers on that.  And then because it seemed a bit easier I wrote numbers on a piece of paper with no words and after about 30 minutes….Mum could do quite a lot (and proclaimed that I am ‘quite fun’ and ‘quite a good teacher’.  These may be the biggest compliments she has ever given me).  I mean, we had a few issues; 4 and 7 are often the same in Mums head, 3 frankly doesn’t exist, and when we got more adventurous, Mum renamed the number 40 ‘apple’….  I don’t know if the cake excitement had exhausted us, but we found it all hilarious and sat in the kitchen shouting random numbers (and fruits), doubled over laughing.

When number three disappeared from Mums vocabulary again she said through her giggles ‘Don’t tell him I can’t do the numbers, will you?’

‘Tell who, Mum?’

‘You know…him!  Your…him!’

‘Do you mean that man I am going to marry, Mum?’

‘Yes, him!’

‘What’s his name, Mum?’

‘I can’t remember!’

(we’re both practically crying with laughter at this point)

‘Try… what’s his name?’

‘BARRY’

We both nearly collapsed.  His name is not Barry.  As Mum said ‘he doesn’t even look like a Barry’.  In fact, I’m not sure either of us know anyone called Barry.  We couldn’t remember the OTs name though, so we’re calling her Barry now, so the name goes to good use…

Anyway, the day wasn’t over.  It probably should have been.  We probably both needed a nap at this point.  But no…the OT lady had said she wants mum to make something simple for lunch every day so we decided it was time for cheese on toast for us and Dad.  I wont take you though it in detail, but let’s just say that Mum is clearly part mouse as she opted to cut one slice, eat one slice.  Three slices of cheese on toast and she used half a block of cheese (no joke).  It also turned out the OT was right when she said instructions need to be very clear as I reminded Mum that she need to use the butter and turned to chat to Dad.  Mum had buttered the cheese.

Cue more laughing and a slightly bemused Dad.  But she did it.  Mum made us all lunch:

I don’t remember the last time I laughed that much. Or was quite that proud.

Yes, today was a good day. :o)

 

Posted in Cooking, looking after Mum, Pog Life | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Losing words. And sometimes a little bit of my mind.

Posted on October 26, 2021 by thepogblog

Tuesday is the day I go and help out Mum.  She had a stroke in May and it left her with slight wonky-ness – in her body, her thinking and especially in her words.

Conversations with Mum can vary wildly, depending on whether or where her words are hiding at that moment or not.  Or apparently whether she is actually listening…

Today we went for a walk.  It was down a busy road with no pavement, but she did agree to take her walking stick because the physio told her ‘it’s useful for hitting people with’.  It seems there were insufficient people around to practice this new sport on though, and like a child with an oversized toy, she decided after a few minutes that she didn’t want to carry it and handed it to me.

We must have looked a right pair – me with the walking stick, Mum with her old lady hobble moving at snails pace while each time a car zoomed past I’d push her into the hedge, holding the walking stick across her as those it had some magical powers of protection…. Anyway, I digress.  We walked, then we sat a while for Mum to get the energy together to get back home, and we chatted.

I braved wedding chat (I say braved as Mum has entirely lost her filter and a lot of what I tell her is met with ‘I don’t like that’).  Today though, she seemed to listen as I said:

‘So part of the deal at the place is that we can choose to use some of their table decorations.  One of those is a round mirror, so I thought maybe I’d just collect pretty jam jars, fill them with flowers and pop them on the mirrors so they are reflected.  What do you think?’

‘Hmmmm’ She answered, ‘OR you could get some pieces of glass’

‘Pieces of glass?’

‘I mean like those’ (She tapped my glasses)

‘Get some bits of pairs of glasses?  For the table decorations, Mum?’

‘No no no.  Round ones’

….?…

‘Not actual glass’

‘Mum, do you mean mirrors?’

‘Yes, round mirrors’

‘Uh huh…’

‘And then get glass vases and fill them with flowers and put them on the mirrors’

‘Mum, that’s pretty much exactly what I….actually, you know what?  That’s a great idea.  Maybe I could do that…’

It was fun.  Mum losing words seems to be contagious so we both seem to spend too much time waving arms and looking blank.  Sometimes I just throw random words out in the hope that I’ll hit on the right one. (Dad?  Mum?  Uncle? Aunt? Cousin? Sister?  Brother?  Oh, brother, ok!  Any idea what we were talking about?)  Sometimes I just do the sort of deep breathing that a free diver would be impressed by.  That is especially true when we get to The Bra Argument.

The Bra Argument happens every bloody week.  A few months ago I took mum to a bra shop and the lady who helped us had the great plan that if mum had a bra she could pull over her head like a t-shirt, she wouldn’t be reliant on anyone dressing her as doing up a standard bra is a bit too tricky these days.  We practiced in the shop.  Mum thought it was a great plan.  We bought the bra.

The next week Mum said she needed a different new bra as she couldn’t put the new one on.  I said she could.  She said she couldn’t.  I suggested she tried.  She could.  She said it was a lot easier that time.  All was good.  (The conversation is a lot more fraught than that and it turns out there is a fine line between deep breathing and hyperventilating. Variations of the argument include me not having being at the shop with her so not knowing what the lady said, and entirely fabricated conversation with the lady, and complete stony silence.)

The following week as I dressed Mum she said that she needed a different new bra because she couldn’t put the new one on.  I said she could.  She said she couldn’t….well, you get the idea.

We managed to get to the point I was leaving before we had The Bra Argument today.  It snuck up in a conversation about getting dressed.  We weren’t even doing the dressing part – that had been hours earlier.  But sneak up it did.  I should probably just agree each time to getting a new one the next week as there is a good chance mum will forget.  But equally it could be one of the thoughts she gets stuck on like a scratched record, and it’s not worth the risk as once the record is scratched, then she sinks her nails in, never to let go… ;o)

Today was a good day.  Learning to laugh at the frustrations is a lesson for us both.  For us all, I guess :o)

Posted in looking after Mum, Pog Life | Tagged | 2 Comments

Hi honey, I’m home

Posted on October 25, 2021 by thepogblog

I last wrote a Pog Blog post on June 15th 2018.  I added some posts to document lockdown in Covid last year, but I stopped as….well, it turns out not much happens in lockdown and it went on and on and on…

You might be wondering why I’m turning up like a bad penny now.  You might not be giving it a second thought.  Or – most likely – you might not even be reading this and I’m just sitting here tapping the keyboard in a little bubble on my own.  And that’s ok.

Because there are two reasons I am back:

  1. I never really wanted to stop writing the blog but someone told me to
  2. It helps me find smiles

So yes, back in 2018 I was training as a hypnotherapist.  Someone pointed out to me around that time that I should ‘be careful’ with the blog as if people connected my future therapy work with my life on the blog, nobody would ever come to me for therapy as I was…well, too ‘me’ in their eyes,  I guess.  That thought stuck and I played it over and over in my head and in the end decided that person was right and just stopped.

It turns out they were wrong.  I now have a full time therapy business with a waiting list.  And I may have started out trying to be a ‘therapist’ (I may have even bought long floaty dresses thinking I needed to look a particular way), but I discovered that actually, my clients like having a very human human to work with, so should any potential future, present or past clients find this, if I am the right therapist for them, I don’t think they will be particularly bothered…

And it helps me find smiles.  Things have changes in the last few years.  Let me do a quick recap:

  • I was made redundant from company I’d worked at for 20 ish years
  • Started part time at another company
  • Qualified as a hypnotherapist
  • Set up a part time hypnotherapy clinic
  • Himself was made redundant
  • Himself got another job
  • Covid hit
  • Part time corporate job went piff paff poof!
  • Started making the part time hypnotherapy clinic full time and online
  • Mum diagnosed with leukaemia
  • New member of the family added – Percy the working cocker (Norman cat not terribly impressed)

.

 

 

 

  • Mum started delayed Chemo (thank you, Covid)
  • Sister 2 diagnosed (after lots of fun and games) with achalasia
  • Mum finished initial chemo and started maintenance chemo
  • Mum had a stroke
  • Sister 2 had operation to enable her to eat again
  • Himself asked me to marry him. With a Haribo ring

(I’m not entirely sure the order is right, but you get the idea.) There’s been a lot of ups and downs.  And I’ve really missed having this place as somewhere to reframe things into a positive – because that is what I always used to do here.  And that is a great thing to do, but you have to make space for it.  So now, I am back and making space, because it turns out some things are not as easy as they look, like:

  • Being a (not quite) step mum – People said I’d be good at it because I am generally good with kids.  I thought I’d be good at it because I am generally good with kids.  Folks, it turns out that step-mumming is like some sort of mind game played while walking a tightrope over a pit of fire that is designed to make you question Every. Single. Thing.  It’s bloody tricky.  And mostly people don’t tell you that and anyway, how hard can one evening a week and every other weekend be?…
  • Looking after your Mum post stroke.  One day a week I drive down a couple of motorways, shower mum, help her dress and take her on an outing to give Dad a bit of time out.  Firstly, showering your mum is weird.  It’s a complete role reversal of 40 plus years ago.  Secondly, Mum isn’t the Mum she used to be anymore and while she has made some amazing steps forward, sometimes one or both of us ends up crying or shouting.  But actually, there are some fun and some funny moments.  And I want to be able to focus on those for me, for Dad and for my sisters.
  • And then there is running your own business.  Now I love my job – it’s blimin’ amazing.  But I work entirely online now – and have clients all over the world, so even if I was willing to do all the risk assessment stuff insurance now requires in relation to Covid, there is no single geographic place for me to see my clients.  And the downside of this is the fact that I don’t get to talk much anymore.  I really miss that desk and kitchen chatter in the office.  That catching up with a colleague.  So, lovely ones.  You are now taking the place of that catching up.  I will chatter and chatter and chatter on here.  I’m sorry about that.  You’re allowed to walk away from the metaphorical office kitchen though; I wont judge. I mean I wont know, so you really can just wander away…

And one other thing:

The entire time I blogged before I was wary of what I said.  Quite early on in the blog I had a boss who was…well, she was a bit of a bitch really.  To cut a long story short, she threatened to sack me over the blog. Twice. (I mean, she’d also threatened to sack me for forgetting to tell her I had a dentist appointment in my lunch break, so she was quite sack happy, but I never questioned her power.). It was silly really, as she was followed by a procession of AMAZING managers who read my blog, commented on it and made my life a much more smiley place.  But I was still wary.  But not anymore.

The Pog Blog is back.  No filter. Just unapologetically me. I’d love you to stick around – it’ll be different, but the same too.  Because that’s how life is, isn’t it? :o)

Posted in Pog Life | 6 Comments

Weekend 7

Posted on May 11, 2020 by thepogblog

Which makes us in week 8 now. Boris’s big announcement was to move from ‘Stay home’ to ‘Stay alert’. There seems to be a little confusion for some over what things might have changed, or not. We can go out more now, but shops wont open until June 1st at the earliest and there is a system now in place where guidelines can change based in reporeted infection rates.

For our family, I don’t think it changes very much at all. So, I think I’ll start blogging a few times a week rather than every week day as….well, we’re not doing a lot, like most of the country (should be….not all are…but I’ve done enough ranting here…)

That said, last Friday was a bank holiday – moved for VE Day. I felt sad that it’s the last big opportunity to celebrate with people who remember it first time round (I mean generally – not in my family or anything. My parents wont thank me for suggesting that). But a weird thing did happen. I imagine that had everything been normal we probably would have gone to the pub down the road for a drink or two…but not really spoken to anyone, because we don’t really know anyone. Instead though, someone down the road sent a message on out Covid What’s app group (a group to help people out when they have to isolate etc) said they would be in their front garden at 4pm and all were welcome to wander down with a drink and say hi. So before I could think too much I said I would. And Himself and I wandered down the road at 4pm. We missed the right house the first time and joined another group (from way more than 2 meters away) and then joined the family that sent the message. Then more people joined. It looked a lot busier than it was as we were all so conscious of standing far apart, but essentially, we met more neighbours than we have in the last two years…And they were lovely. So thank you VE Day and thank you Covid…kind of.

And apart from that, Dad has grown beans at a rate of knots in 24 hours. From left to right:

Sister 2 had courgette seeds shoot up:

And Sister 1…well, she ‘grew’ potatoes:

From a wild life perspective she did better though, rescuing this black toad:

And Max, the increasingly tame pheasant has started knocking on Mum and Dad’s back door requesting breakfast:

Dad sent me a great photo of Mum in her dressing gown filling up Max’s bowl with seeds but I don’t think I’d ever be forgiven if I posted that…

So there you go. We’ll be back in a day or two.

Stay safe, lovely people. x

United Kingdom: New cases today+3,924; Total cases220,449

Global: New cases today+77,774; Total cases4,100,543

Following last night’s televised address, Prime Minister Boris Johnson will provide more details on his “road map” out of lockdown today

UK will rank the threat of coronavirus via five-tier alert system, government announces

French travellers to the UK will be exempt from new quarantine measures that will come into force, Downing Street confirms

Posted in covid-19 diary | 2 Comments

A bit ranty today. Sorry.

Posted on May 7, 2020 by thepogblog

Usually the day before a long weekend our biggest concern is ‘Will the sun actually come out?’. Tomorrow is VE Day, the bank holiday was moved so everyone could celebrate with street parties…

I’m noticing things are getting more political on social media: Views that the government are ‘gaslighting’ us. That they making us celebrate the very people they don’t look after (NHS / frontline) and those they have taken resources away from (the elderly). I rarely feel the need to share my political views, but I will say this: Right now, we need to be pulling together, not dividing and blaming. That is going to achieve absolutely nothing for any of those groups or even for ourselves. If you feel it’s wrong that the frontline hasn’t been given PPE, sharing a meme or a shouty post about it will do didley squat. There are hundreds and hundreds of groups making PPE. The group I’m involved in just sourced enough material for 8,000 sets of scrubs that will be going direct to the NHS. The logistics – nevermind the sewing – involved in that is immense. If you can’t sew, offer to pick up and deliver the items that those who can are making. People are dropping items every day to my house, and I am just one location across all of Sussex. Offer to help admins organise material drops, fundraise, donate (the argument that ‘the government needs to put its hands in its pockets’ doesn’t work right now).

There is heaps you can do RIGHT NOW that will make the difference a political rant wont. And when this is done, and we are all safer, and possibly have a vaccine and maybe we can go back to some sort of normality, THEN ask the questions, find the facts and petition, vote and whatever else is needed to make the changes that you believe are needed. But right now focus on coming together rather than creating a divide. (By the way, that’s all specific to the UK. I don’t know enough about the situation in any other country other than a bit about the US, and don’t want to even get started on ‘let’s just clean peoples lungs by injecting disinfectant Trumpy Pants.)

Oooh, sorry. That was a bit more ranty than I planned. I wont do it again, but there have been SO many posts / articles / comments in the last few days….and all from people who only seem to get shouty rather than actually do anything about anything and that makes me a bit grumpy. Be the change you want to see and all that. Anyway, I know you are not like that. :o)

So back to the smiles. Mum and Dad went for a walk (I should point out, Mum and Dad live in the middle of nowhere and other than pigs, sheep, lambs, a rabbit, lamas and cows, they only saw one other person, and he was on a bike.). They found this:


My (not so little) Norman approves and would like to know if the field is stocked with sufficient things to chase and significant quantities of dried chicken treats.

And we have the now weekly family video call. I’d like yo say they are getting better but I’d be lying.

Anyway, stay safe, lovely people. xxx

United Kingdom: New cases today +6,116; Total cases: 202,359

Global: New casesToday +95,221; Total cases: 3,754,188

Black people four times more likely to die with COVID-19 than white people, data from Office for National Statistics suggests

Failure to meet daily government testing target due to “technical issues”, Northern Ireland Secretary Brandon Lewis says

Bank of England says UK economy heading for 14% drop in 2020 due to coronavirus lockdown

Posted in covid-19 diary | 1 Comment