Unpaid Carers.

I came across this term for the first time this morning. It intrigued me enough to plod through this rather disturbing article in the Independent.

I can identify completely with the findings among the care givers as I have, at one time or the other experienced, some or all symptoms experienced by them.

The major difference between their experiences and mine is that I know that there is no possibility of any kind of help from the state, whereas, in Britain, it would appear that, there is hope. That enables me to soldier on on a realistic basis, rather than hope for some kind of largesse from the state, the sooner the better. The second difference is that presumably, in all the cases in the UK, there is no other kin available to extend care to the receiver, whereas, in my case, there is an extended family, but one that my care receiver has alienated very effectively. In many other cases, the children take turns to look after their parent/s, whereas my siblings cannot.

May I request my American, Canadian. Australian and New Zealand readers to comment on how the situation is, in their respective countries?

Weekly Gratitude List – May 5. 2012.

On Saturday, my cousin/nephew Vignesh, who has featured in my blog posts on a few occasions came over from Navi Mumbai and brought a delicious home made cake sent by his lovely wife Kamini. He spent the whole day with us, let my father have his heart full of talking to a captive audience, treated me for a fantastic dinner at a newly opened restaurant near our home, paid for the fruits that I purchased on the way back and generally endeared himself to me despite knowing that he does not feature in my will. And to add some icing on the cake, on safely reaching his home, sent me a text message saying that he enjoyed the visit and regretted not having done that many times on earlier occasions.

Sunday was an anticlimax. Very relaxed and peaceful till late afternoon when my father complained about unease and wanting to see the doctor again. I succeeded in postponing that to Monday.

When I took my father to the doctor on Monday, it transpired that on his own initiative, after reading the literature that accompanied the medicine, he had not been taking one medicine. Both the doctor and I blew our gaskets and it took me the whole day to recover from that. He was most contrite and kept apologising, but would not understand my angst. I finally had to tell him that if he wanted me to give the care that he needs, he has to obey the doctor and keep me informed of any deviations that he wished from those instructions. He reluctantly agreed.

Tuesday went off reasonably well except for my father once again coming up with complaints and wanting to see the doctor. The doctor was not answering my phone calls and eventually returned my call to advise me to be firm with my father that he has to put up with some inconvenience and take the medication as advised. I found it difficult to make him understand that but eventually he came around when I advised him that he was driving me to depression, which would be a great accomplishment for him as nothing or nobody had ever succeeded in doing that to me in all these years. Perhaps it was that inspired statement, or his finally seeing that I was nearing breaking point, he calmed down and stayed that way for the rest of the day.

Wednesday was drama time with a lot of sulking and slouching and taking it out on the help. I am grateful that Mangal is mature and capable enough to handle the situation. My young friend Srinivas called me to set up a meeting with him in the afternoon and I had a most satisfying hour and a half with him at a cafe and thoroughly enjoyed the two tall glasses of iced tea and a waffle with black berry sauce and vanilla ice cream. As a bonus, I got to meet his lovely wife Sujatha and daughter Lavanya, later at the park and I think that I goofed up be letting on to both of them that Srini had spent the afternoon with me rather than working his butt off.

Thursday went off peacefully till late in the afternoon when the problems started all over again and I had to assure my father that I will take him to the doctor on Friday before the week end. He also suddenly wanted some fancy clips to hold his towel in place on the rack in his bathroom, and I went hunting for them and was blessed enough to find them in a neighbourhood shop. The shopkeeper also promised to deliver one more clip of a larger size on Friday at home. Extremely nice of him considering that he would have to go about a kilometer to do so.

Padmum had sent our family to a link to a blog that had written about my father’s cousin and I showed it to my father on the screen after enlarging the fonts. He was quite thrilled and took off on a reminiscing trip and I had to patiently hear him out. Sad that he is hard of hearing as I could not participate as I simply refuse to shout for such matters.

On Friday, instead of taking my father to the doctors, I requested that they come for a house visit and they readily obliged. Till they came, a bit later than the time originally agreed to by them, my father was like a cat with a new litter, pacing up and and down and asking me to ring them up and so on. They finally turned up an hour and a half late, and examined him thoroughly, though not to his entire satisfaction. He kept on pestering them so much so that they suggested that another opinion be sought from a Urologist. Later in the evening, when I called the urologist for an appointment, he readily agreed for an early one and since at short notice, I could not arrange a driver, I drove him to the appointment during peak hour traffic and I am grateful that the drive both ways went off without incident. The urologist confirmed earlier diagnosis and said that further treatment will worsen matters.

Sincerity.

Welcome to the Friday Loose Bloggers Consortium where twelve of us write on the same topic. Today’s topic has been chosen by Conrad, who has been in retirement for some time. The eleven other bloggers who write regularly are, in alphabetical order, Delirious, gaelikaa, Grannymar, Maxi, Maria SF, ocdwriter, Padmum, Paul, Rohit, The Old Fossil and Will. Do drop in on their blogs and see what their take is on this week’s topic. Since some of them may post late, do give some allowance for that too!

Name Dropping; Joseph King, Author.

I cannot resist the temptation to drop a name.

A friend of mine, Joseph King has just published two books for Kindle. They are “Crack” and “Evil Does It”

Had these been published in the hard versions, I would have probably got them autographed by Joe. This modern system does not permit it. Sad.

I have started off on the second and have glanced through the first few pages of the first books and think that my friend has got the skill to hold my attention. As my readers know, I rarely read fiction, but these two will receive priority over the current lot of non fiction that I am ploughing through just now.

Those of my readers who read books on kindle, may like to investigate further and choose to read or not.

Joe, all the best with the new endeavour.

Two Muses.

“There are, it seems, two muses: the Muse of Inspiration, who gives us inarticulate visions and desires, and the Muse of Realization, who returns again and again to say “It is yet more difficult than you thought.” This is the muse of form. It may be then that form serves us best when it works as an obstruction, to baffle us and deflect our intended course. It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”

~ Wendell Berry

Shouting In Anger.

I thank Arvind for this little story.

A Hindu saint who was visiting river Ganges to take bath found a group of family members on the banks, shouting in anger at each other. He turned to his disciples smiled ‘n asked.

‘Why do people shout in anger shout at each other?’

Disciples thought for a while, one of them said, ‘Because we lose our calm, we shout.’

‘But, why should you shout when the other person is just next to you? You can as well tell him what you have to say in a soft manner.’ asked the saint

Disciples gave some other answers but none satisfied the other disciples.
Finally the saint explained, .

‘When two people are angry at each other, their hearts distance a lot. To cover that distance they must shout to be able to hear each other. The angrier they are, the stronger they will have to shout to hear each other to cover that great distance.

What happens when two people fall in love? They don’t shout at each other but talk softly, Because their hearts are very close. The distance between them is either nonexistent or very small…’

The saint continued, ‘When they love each other even more, what happens? They do not speak, only whisper ‘n they get even closer to each other in their love. Finally they even need not whisper, they only look at each other ‘n that’s all. That is how close two people are when they love each other.’

He looked at his disciples ‘n said.

‘So when you argue do not let your hearts get distant, Do not say words that distance each other more, Or else there will come a day when the distance is so great that you will not find the path to return.’

There is a little twist to that tale in my life. My father is hard of hearing and refuses to wear hearing aids as they are uncomfortable. I therefore have to shout so that he can hear me and he inevitably concludes that I am excited and/or angry.

What should I do?