A difficult day
I had some not-so-bad dreams, but partly unpleasant and strangely upsetting dreams. I awoke in the early hours of the morning with tears in my eyes - I had been crying. I fell asleep and when I woke up again later on, at the time I'd normally get out of bed, I felt drained.
Everyday Saturday I visit my folks place and take my dad to the local Tesco to help with the weekly shopping. Mum is able to stay at home for a short period on here, but oftentimes we'll come back and she'll have taken food out the fridge or (what is a more recurring problem) hides away keys or other bits and pieces and forgets where she's put it. Although dad gets out and about almost everyday, this serves as a guaranteed weekly visit to see both my parents and also enables dad to pick up anything heavier or bulkier that he couldn't manage on his own during the week. Things like a supply of milk, bottled water, some beers to last the week, that sort of thing.
This morning though I felt hardly in the mood to have to go out and do it. Today it felt like a real chore. I was tired, I didn't feel like and with the weather being very cold, damp and windy outside I'd have rather stayed at home.
My wife can read me very well, which I'm hugely conscious of. The slightest hint of frustration or my usual bout of 'stroppiness' she picks up on and mentions. She has far more reason to feel stressful or worried about things, being 6.5 months pregnant and focusing on watching what she eats.
She has been diagnosed as having gestational diabetes. It wasn't unexpected, to be honest. Her mother is a diabetic and previous blood tests had show a higher susceptablity to the condition. We have of course also just come the other side of the festive season, so plenty of opportunties to spoil ourselves and have that one extra bit of chocolate or dessert or whatever else. Truth be told, our diet isn't so bad and hers isn't at all bad - lots of fruit and veg, chicken and fish, nuts and seeds. Neither of us drink fizzy drinks like cola or lemonade, and I don't put sugar in my tea or coffee or on my cereal. The majority of our sugar intake comes from fruits and fruit juices, although I'm far more less disciplined with cakes and sweets than she is. Of course, she'll partake in sharing a treat or two but I certainly have the sweeter tooth.
Yesterday involved another slog through morning traffic to take her to an appointment at the hospital to see a doctor, dietician and nurses. I sped back to work and spent most of the morning watching my phone for updates from here. Come lunchtime, 4 hours after dropping her off, my nerves were completed rattled waiting for her to let me know she was done. I sped off to pick her up and take her home - complete with an Accucheck blood monitoring system given by the health team for her to use.
This of course makes me feel quite selfish and perhaps quite melodramatic. She is managing to watch what she eats, focussing on the nutritional value of foods we have and doing a good job of measuring the values each time she uses the machine to test her blood. The results are not bad at and within reasonable levels. So why I am feeling so low about things?
Perhaps it's actually the weather, who knows. This morning I fought hard to keep the tears back. Quite honestly there were two or three occasions this morning at my folks place and in the car afterwards that I could easily have broken down in tears. I don't know why.
I also feel for my parents, who would rather we spend more time with them. Today I just couldn't do it. I love my parents dearly but today was one of those days that I simply couldn't bear being there. Perhaps I'm being too much of a coward or not being patient enough with people. I'm worrying about my wife and her condition, and what she's going through carrying our second son, and I'm wanting to give my parents a grandchild that would be such a boost to their own lives. I often daydream about the day we take our son to see them, so they can see the newest member of the family for themselves. and I'm quite sure whatever ailment or other problems they're having would be eased considerably seeing that miracle of a newborn being.
I just hope everything goes well between now and then for them all. Right now I have to pack aside all this crap I'm feeling and concentrate on making sure I support my wife as much as possible. Tomorrow is another day.
Saturday, 31 January 2015
Thursday, 22 January 2015
Earliest memories...
"When I was younger, I couldn't wait to get older so I could do my own thing. Now I just want to stop getting older" (Mrs)
I'm trying to work out how far back my memory goes. We have lots of family photos but for the most part I don't recall the events or occasions they were taken at until perhaps when I get to 7, 8, 9 years of age. The images do stir something in me, but perhaps only because they've been viewed a number of times over the years since they were taken. It was a nice thing to do of an evening back then - to bring out the albums and look through them all.
There are photos of me running in a school race when I must have been 7 or 8, but I don't remember doing that. There are a set of photos with me posing with a small football around the house that my mum took. I can remember a little about that and the fact that my mum took them. I would have been younger, maybe 4 or 5. We apparently holidayed in Westward Ho where strong winds nearly blew the roof off our caravan but I don't remember that happening. There are photos of me on the beach at Torquay, a place we'd holidayed at a lot as a family but I don't remember being on the beach.
I do also remember my father dropping me off at school, into a class at whatever was before primary school. Whenever we pass the school, we wonder whether kids and their parents still do the same thing. I think some of the earliest memories I have would be playing with the kids that lived in the same street as me. There was a family who had a climbing frame in the back garden and I'd be afraid to come from it whenever my folks came to collect because I was afraid of their dogs...!
I wonder how far back my mum, in her 70s now and with her dementia, can actually remember. A significant part of her illness is that she remembers things from a long time back, many years ago with her family and at her home in rural Thailand. As much as I'd like to trace back the family history on my mum's side, I know that's not possible anymore. I am also conscious of asking her about things in case she gets upset or how it might affect how she views or interprets her life right now. I wonder if she might escape into that world and forget about the things around her now.
My father's side however, is a different story. I've never had living grandparents so it's always been a mystery to me, but I do know their names and have received snippets of information about my background. Only very recently though have I started to make real progress into understanding my ancestors, and started the investigation with my Aunt.
She is older than my dad by some years but is still active and has a sharp mind. Incredibly, she has managed to dig out a birth certificate for my great grand-father going back to 1874. This of course has sparked a huge interest in gathering up information and making use of online records to try and piece together our family history.
One of the more worrying things that have come out of it though is finding out a pattern among that side of the family relating to poor heart conditions. My father had problems in his 50s. My grandparents both died in their 40s due to chest and heart problems. It's something I hadn't considered before but I'm far more conscious now about my own health - and especially since I have a child of my own on the way.
Speaking of which, we are at this stage in the third trimester and 8 or 9 weeks away from the due date. Next week we have the first of a series of antenatal classes. 10 years ago I would never have thought I'd be where I am now.
I'm trying to work out how far back my memory goes. We have lots of family photos but for the most part I don't recall the events or occasions they were taken at until perhaps when I get to 7, 8, 9 years of age. The images do stir something in me, but perhaps only because they've been viewed a number of times over the years since they were taken. It was a nice thing to do of an evening back then - to bring out the albums and look through them all.
There are photos of me running in a school race when I must have been 7 or 8, but I don't remember doing that. There are a set of photos with me posing with a small football around the house that my mum took. I can remember a little about that and the fact that my mum took them. I would have been younger, maybe 4 or 5. We apparently holidayed in Westward Ho where strong winds nearly blew the roof off our caravan but I don't remember that happening. There are photos of me on the beach at Torquay, a place we'd holidayed at a lot as a family but I don't remember being on the beach.
I do also remember my father dropping me off at school, into a class at whatever was before primary school. Whenever we pass the school, we wonder whether kids and their parents still do the same thing. I think some of the earliest memories I have would be playing with the kids that lived in the same street as me. There was a family who had a climbing frame in the back garden and I'd be afraid to come from it whenever my folks came to collect because I was afraid of their dogs...!
I wonder how far back my mum, in her 70s now and with her dementia, can actually remember. A significant part of her illness is that she remembers things from a long time back, many years ago with her family and at her home in rural Thailand. As much as I'd like to trace back the family history on my mum's side, I know that's not possible anymore. I am also conscious of asking her about things in case she gets upset or how it might affect how she views or interprets her life right now. I wonder if she might escape into that world and forget about the things around her now.
My father's side however, is a different story. I've never had living grandparents so it's always been a mystery to me, but I do know their names and have received snippets of information about my background. Only very recently though have I started to make real progress into understanding my ancestors, and started the investigation with my Aunt.
She is older than my dad by some years but is still active and has a sharp mind. Incredibly, she has managed to dig out a birth certificate for my great grand-father going back to 1874. This of course has sparked a huge interest in gathering up information and making use of online records to try and piece together our family history.
One of the more worrying things that have come out of it though is finding out a pattern among that side of the family relating to poor heart conditions. My father had problems in his 50s. My grandparents both died in their 40s due to chest and heart problems. It's something I hadn't considered before but I'm far more conscious now about my own health - and especially since I have a child of my own on the way.
Speaking of which, we are at this stage in the third trimester and 8 or 9 weeks away from the due date. Next week we have the first of a series of antenatal classes. 10 years ago I would never have thought I'd be where I am now.
Friday, 16 January 2015
Mum and Dad
"I always imagined it would be her looking after him, not the other way around"
My half-sister said that when we met up with them before Christmas. It puts things neatly into perspective.
I am half-Thai. I don't look it, but when I tell people it often confirms what they were thinking (apart from thinking there is something a little odd about me). There is a stigma attached to 'men from the West' marrying women from Asia that I've always disliked and still feel uncomfortable with. Quite unfairly, in the past my mum used to be upset about my apparent discomfort or being embarrassed by her, whenever we were out shopping, or on holiday, or at school events etc when we were together as a family. It was never about her being Thai or the way she looked, but because of her gregarious personality on one hand and quick temper on the other, or how loudly she spoke in both instances. Perhaps it was because I only ever heard her voice above all others, whether it was in a busy street or crowded room.
The details of how my folks met are still a bit vague to be honest and I've never directly enquired. Over the years, small snippets of information have emerged and I've been happy to leave it at that. Regardless, it was April of 1978 that they married and I came along in January of 1979. It must have been in my late teens that I actually realised that I must have been conceived on or very close to their wedding night, which I've always thought was endearing (albeit a bit too much information perhaps). I've always very much loved my parents and they have loved me in return, but we've never really been very open with each-other or shared much about how we really felt or things that were going on that were causing us problems.
Right now, as of January 2015 my mum is 74 years old and my father 73. Whenever there is a union between a 'farang' and a Thai you'd expect in later years to see the lady dutifully nursing the man in his old age. Again that stigma: that older guy from the West marrying a younger lady from over there, but it's different in their case. My father's sight and hearing is getting worse and he's had his fair share of problems over the years. Heart attack, problems downstairs, Meniere's disease, but he manages to stay of sound mind to a degree at the moment, which I feel extremely thankful for, but it's just his physical capability that is becoming a problem. He does get out of the house most days though and takes advantage of his senior bus pass to get about easily enough, it's just all a lot slower than in years gone by of course and he's getting a lot more tired.
My mum on the other hand does not leave the house much nowadays, unless they have a doctor or hospital appointment to go to and which is the one of the few things that breaks up their routine. Whenever I visit, she is usually in her normal place at the end of the sofa nearest the window, wrapped up in a blanket. For the past few years her memory has deteriorated - it's Alzheimer's, or another form of dementia, but whatever it is it's causing a terrible strain on my father, whom she relies on - even though she doesn't fully realise it - to prepare meals for them both, ensure she takes her medication, to do the chores, to settles bills and to do basically everything to keep the house in check.
She remembers and often recalls events or conversations from many years ago, even going back to her youth, but cannot remember what was said or what she did five minutes ago. We'd take them both to our place for a meal and on the way back to the car to take them home, she'll have forgotten she's even been there or what she ate. We'll go out for a meal somewhere and afterwards she'd ask if we want to go for lunch. She'll open a Christmas or birthday present we've given her and minutes later she'll ask what it is and if we want it. She's afraid of using the toilet on her own at night and sleeps lightly, which means my father's sleep is regularly interrupted. She'll keep on at him about making sure windows are shut or that taps are turned off. She'll constantly ask my dad about something and repeat herself. We'll joke that it's a good job he can't hear her half the time but in truth we all know how difficult this is on him having to put up with the random and constant questions and repetitiveness of it all.
I know this because I can see with hindsight the change that took place while I was still living with them. I understand now why things were so difficult at times. Nowadays it's heart-breaking listening to my dad tell me how tired he is because of how she's been - I can tell by the tone of his voice and it's a terrible thing to listen to.
One of the most frustrating things is sitting her down to a meal. She was always a fussy eater, but now she'll keep saying she's full when she's hardly eaten anything. She'll keep offering her plate to others when we have full plates ourselves. She'll push food around the plate, or put something on her fork and then abandon it. Her eating habits have always been pretty poor and her diet isn't good now. It's often the same thing with little variety (and no doubt not enough nutrition), but this is limited due to what my father can prepare each day.
Perhaps most worrying though is when we've taken her out, either for a walk or to our place for a good few hours. Not only does this give her a change of scenery and some exercise but, more importantly, gives dad a chance to have a rest and do his own thing. But after some time away from him and the familiarity of her own home, we'll notice she'll even begin to forget about him and the house, thinking that she's in her own home when she's in ours. This could be the most heart-breaking element of her condition and it already makes me desperately sad for them both to think that one day, quite possibly, she'll forget she's married to my father.
I want to use this blog in a variety of ways. I want to have a diary of how things develop with my parent's condition and the help they hope to receive from the local council and health services. I also want to remember certain events in years gone by and how we've got to where we are now.
I turn 36 in a few day's time and I too have began to find myself getting a little confused over things, tripping over my words or stuttering when I speak, making silly avoidable mistakes at work or thinking one word and saying another. It's small but noticeable. Does it mean anything? Could it be early signs of my own mental deterioration or some other condition? That is perhaps a little melodramatic I know, and I suspect isn't anything to be concerned about, but I've found that writing things down has always been a good way for me to express myself.
My wife and I will face our own challenges this year. We are expecting our first child, although I'm still unsure about using that term given what we've been through. I remember someone telling us at one point during that awful period - whether it was the hospital staff, friends, family or the Father from the local church that visited us - that he will always be our fist child, our firstborn, our first son, but I can't seem to come to terms with that or understand how to articulate myself whenever people ask about it.
Between worrying about both our parent's struggles in their old age, our own challenges with starting a family and the events of the not-too-distant past hanging over us, and potential concerns with my own mental health that I've been conscious of only very recently, Year 36 could be the most challenging time of our lives yet.
My half-sister said that when we met up with them before Christmas. It puts things neatly into perspective.
I am half-Thai. I don't look it, but when I tell people it often confirms what they were thinking (apart from thinking there is something a little odd about me). There is a stigma attached to 'men from the West' marrying women from Asia that I've always disliked and still feel uncomfortable with. Quite unfairly, in the past my mum used to be upset about my apparent discomfort or being embarrassed by her, whenever we were out shopping, or on holiday, or at school events etc when we were together as a family. It was never about her being Thai or the way she looked, but because of her gregarious personality on one hand and quick temper on the other, or how loudly she spoke in both instances. Perhaps it was because I only ever heard her voice above all others, whether it was in a busy street or crowded room.
The details of how my folks met are still a bit vague to be honest and I've never directly enquired. Over the years, small snippets of information have emerged and I've been happy to leave it at that. Regardless, it was April of 1978 that they married and I came along in January of 1979. It must have been in my late teens that I actually realised that I must have been conceived on or very close to their wedding night, which I've always thought was endearing (albeit a bit too much information perhaps). I've always very much loved my parents and they have loved me in return, but we've never really been very open with each-other or shared much about how we really felt or things that were going on that were causing us problems.
Right now, as of January 2015 my mum is 74 years old and my father 73. Whenever there is a union between a 'farang' and a Thai you'd expect in later years to see the lady dutifully nursing the man in his old age. Again that stigma: that older guy from the West marrying a younger lady from over there, but it's different in their case. My father's sight and hearing is getting worse and he's had his fair share of problems over the years. Heart attack, problems downstairs, Meniere's disease, but he manages to stay of sound mind to a degree at the moment, which I feel extremely thankful for, but it's just his physical capability that is becoming a problem. He does get out of the house most days though and takes advantage of his senior bus pass to get about easily enough, it's just all a lot slower than in years gone by of course and he's getting a lot more tired.
My mum on the other hand does not leave the house much nowadays, unless they have a doctor or hospital appointment to go to and which is the one of the few things that breaks up their routine. Whenever I visit, she is usually in her normal place at the end of the sofa nearest the window, wrapped up in a blanket. For the past few years her memory has deteriorated - it's Alzheimer's, or another form of dementia, but whatever it is it's causing a terrible strain on my father, whom she relies on - even though she doesn't fully realise it - to prepare meals for them both, ensure she takes her medication, to do the chores, to settles bills and to do basically everything to keep the house in check.
She remembers and often recalls events or conversations from many years ago, even going back to her youth, but cannot remember what was said or what she did five minutes ago. We'd take them both to our place for a meal and on the way back to the car to take them home, she'll have forgotten she's even been there or what she ate. We'll go out for a meal somewhere and afterwards she'd ask if we want to go for lunch. She'll open a Christmas or birthday present we've given her and minutes later she'll ask what it is and if we want it. She's afraid of using the toilet on her own at night and sleeps lightly, which means my father's sleep is regularly interrupted. She'll keep on at him about making sure windows are shut or that taps are turned off. She'll constantly ask my dad about something and repeat herself. We'll joke that it's a good job he can't hear her half the time but in truth we all know how difficult this is on him having to put up with the random and constant questions and repetitiveness of it all.
I know this because I can see with hindsight the change that took place while I was still living with them. I understand now why things were so difficult at times. Nowadays it's heart-breaking listening to my dad tell me how tired he is because of how she's been - I can tell by the tone of his voice and it's a terrible thing to listen to.
One of the most frustrating things is sitting her down to a meal. She was always a fussy eater, but now she'll keep saying she's full when she's hardly eaten anything. She'll keep offering her plate to others when we have full plates ourselves. She'll push food around the plate, or put something on her fork and then abandon it. Her eating habits have always been pretty poor and her diet isn't good now. It's often the same thing with little variety (and no doubt not enough nutrition), but this is limited due to what my father can prepare each day.
Perhaps most worrying though is when we've taken her out, either for a walk or to our place for a good few hours. Not only does this give her a change of scenery and some exercise but, more importantly, gives dad a chance to have a rest and do his own thing. But after some time away from him and the familiarity of her own home, we'll notice she'll even begin to forget about him and the house, thinking that she's in her own home when she's in ours. This could be the most heart-breaking element of her condition and it already makes me desperately sad for them both to think that one day, quite possibly, she'll forget she's married to my father.
I want to use this blog in a variety of ways. I want to have a diary of how things develop with my parent's condition and the help they hope to receive from the local council and health services. I also want to remember certain events in years gone by and how we've got to where we are now.
I turn 36 in a few day's time and I too have began to find myself getting a little confused over things, tripping over my words or stuttering when I speak, making silly avoidable mistakes at work or thinking one word and saying another. It's small but noticeable. Does it mean anything? Could it be early signs of my own mental deterioration or some other condition? That is perhaps a little melodramatic I know, and I suspect isn't anything to be concerned about, but I've found that writing things down has always been a good way for me to express myself.
My wife and I will face our own challenges this year. We are expecting our first child, although I'm still unsure about using that term given what we've been through. I remember someone telling us at one point during that awful period - whether it was the hospital staff, friends, family or the Father from the local church that visited us - that he will always be our fist child, our firstborn, our first son, but I can't seem to come to terms with that or understand how to articulate myself whenever people ask about it.
Between worrying about both our parent's struggles in their old age, our own challenges with starting a family and the events of the not-too-distant past hanging over us, and potential concerns with my own mental health that I've been conscious of only very recently, Year 36 could be the most challenging time of our lives yet.
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