Home.

Arthur came home today, by ambulance. We had a problem getting him in through the tight angles of the doorways and in the end, we put him in the hospital bed in the lounge-room. We couldn't get him into the big bed.

The first thing he asked for was a cup of hot sweet tea, and the first comment he made was, "This won't be for too long, I know it."

The dogs were all over him, and Chelsea was straight under his blankets. I took photos. His room-mate, David, gave him a little Buddha as a present and I am going to make sure David gets a copy of the photos of Arthur with the dogs. It just goes to show that you are never too old to make someone else happy.

Less than 24 hours to Arthur's Homecoming.

Arthur is anxious, I am anxious. We both do not know how I am going to get on caring for him at home.

I think now Arthur has an appreciation of how hard it will be for me to do alone what a team of people do for him in the nursing home. We both fear I will fail. I do not know if I can do it but I can only try.

I am surprised at how much I am stressed by Arthur coming home tomorrow. Am I reluctant to take up the load again? Maybe I have become used to someone else doing it all and me just being the visitor, bringing the special treats and taking the dogs to visit.

Depressive feelings have caused inertia and everything is not done yet. I have to travel to the other side of the city tomorrow to buy a second-hand manual patient-lifter. I can't afford an electric one that I would really like. Arthur will get back about 3pm so I have to be here by then. I need to mentally prepare myself and reorient back into the carer role. I wonder when I will be able to walk the dogs on the beach again? I wonder if I can get enough respite to do that? Three hours a week is really only enough for shopping and appointments.

I want Arthur to be safe and comfortable in his own home. Why cannot there be enough services to do that? It is almost as if they want him to be in a nursing home. He does not have to be, he just needs two personal care visits a day and some weekly respite.

On Anzac Day, 25th of April, I took Arthur's suit coat with his war medal sewn on, in to him and we watched the march, televised on TV, together. A couple of weeks ago, I tried to get Arthur to agree go to the Anzac Day March in his motorized wheelchair, but he wouldn't countenance it.

I went in to watch the Royal Wedding with him on 29 April but he wanted to watch the English Premier League match on the laptop, so I joined the residents the TV room until his match was over, then we watched the carriages going back to Buckingham Palace together.

I take the dogs every time and the other residents very much like them. Maria, who always drops hints about chocolate, looks for the dogs every time and Arthur's room mate, David, who likes Buddha statues, loves to pat them. I wish I could take the dogs for a visit occasionally but I suppose that will never eventuate, but I do want to print some photos of the dogs and Arthur and give them to Maria and David.

I must put that task on my list too.

The Homecoming Approaches.

Wednesday, 4th May, less than a week away, is the date Arthur will be home again. Arthur is looking forward to it but the is worried about me. He does not know how I will cope. He keeps saying he is sorry for me. It must be so hard for him to be a burden to me, in his own eyes.

I am not doing so well. I am highly anxious about it all. I suspect the respite has allowed me to get used to Arthur's needs not being here. I am not on call 24 hours a day, I don't have to worry about arranging for someone to be here if I need to go out, I do not have to deal with agencies and service providers.

I visit him with the dogs, he is happy to see me, thanks me for what I am doing, there is no conflict and we are relaxed. When Arthur needs personal care or re-positioning, I go outside the room until it is done. His health and welfare are some-one else's responsibility, and we just enjoy positive and happy contact.

Even the ravages of my grief have eased, somewhat.

The question arises, do I want Arthur to move permanently into a nursing home? The answer is no, I want him home. I want him home for his sake, not mine. He does not want to be there, he is just waiting it out until he is home again.

I do not know how I can cope with him at home with so few services. Just one visit a day means I will be changing his pad at least once a day, and now it seems he is bowel incontinent too, so coping with that will be so hard. I hate personal care, I hate everything to do with other people's bodily discharges. I toilet-trained my children as soon as they were old enough. I have helped Arthur on the toilet and changed his bowel pad a couple of times. How am I going to do this every day? I know nurses do it, but that is the reason I never wanted to be a nurse!

Why is it life gives you what you do not want so often?

My anxiety is making me nearly immobile with worry, my muscles are sore and I have tingling in my limbs. I have a lot of things to do so Arthur can come home.

I have to get a mechanical patient lifter, as I cannot afford an electrical one. I have to make sure I have everything arranged for the day and that I have the shopping done.

I am looking forward to Arthur's happiness when he finally comes home again.

Arthur to come home soon. Reflections.

Arthur's discharge date is 4 May 2011 and I know he is looking forward to being home. I am both looking forward to being reunited and feeling scared about what the future holds.

It is nice to visit and take the dogs in, to leave the care and labour to someone else. I do not know how I am going to do it on my own with only 30 minutes of personal care support provided each day. I do not know how long before he gets sick again, with just me to care for him. He is alright, if rather bored where he is but that is because he knows it is temporary. I know if it was permanent he would just give up and die.

I have not been able to do much for myself because the fees for the respite have taken a lot of the income and I am too tired or stressed to out or I don't want to go anywhere alone. I did go to the hairdresser and have my hair done and I have visited by best friend every week. I enjoy seeing her and her support is wonderful.

The counsellor asked what gives me hope, but I struggled for an answer. There seems no hope, other than to make day-to-day living as comfortable as possible. My struggle to do my university course is my one way of keeping a door open for the future. I feel guilty thinking of a future as Arthur does not have one, I remind myself he has had a past, and I have yet to have as much of life as his past represents for him, but that is an intellectual argument, not an emotional one.

I need to prepare the house for his homecoming, when life will change once again.

Seeking Asylum Down Under: Robert Manne on a solution to boat arrivals - in the absence of compassion in Australia let's revisit Manus Island!

Seeking Asylum Down Under: Robert Manne on a solution to boat arrivals - in the absence of compassion in Australia let's revisit Manus Island!

Arthur's Birthday - April Fool!

Arthur had his birthday two days ago, on April 1st, April Fools Day. I bought him an ice-cream cake and a wireless electronic weather station. My mother also visited and we had a happy time. At one time I wanted to make a birthday party of it, but I think it would have been very tiring for Arthur and we have lost track of so many people, and he has outlived his close friends. It is really just Arthur and me, now.

The kitchen staff made him a cake to share with everyone and a lot of the staff came in and sang 'Happy Birthday' to him in the morning (I came in after lunch) and lots of staff and some of the residents wished him a Happy Birthday too. I think it was a good thing that he was in the nursing home for his birthday as he got a lot more attention than he would have at home with no one visiting. It was a bit hard to go home alone but it is for the best. I was happy to see him smiling and seeing him talk cricket with my Mum was funny. Mum is Australian back five generations and he is English and of course the cricket rivalry is usually intense but as both teams are not doing well they were commiserating each other on the lack of good bowlers in each other's national teams.

On Thursday, my doctor found out I have low blood pressure at the moment so she took a blood test on Friday. Also my CT scan shows arthritis in my lower back so I have to go to physiotherapy. The pressure on my sciatic nerve gives me pain down the leg so I will have to strengthen my back with exercise.

Also my Chelsea has a little lump on her chest so I have to get the vet to check that out. Arthur and I will be devastated if it turns out to be anything nasty. I am not going to say anything to Arthur about it. I am hoping it will just be inflammation or a cyst.

I got a pass and a credit for my two practical reports for my university subject.

My sense of sadness is under control I think. It has not gone away but it is not as overwhelming. Thoughts that this would probably be Arthur's last birthday were pushed into the background. I could not afford to indulge in that kind of thinking. But here, I will face it. I also face the sadness that it was so little I gave. I wish it could have been a party at a restaurant, at home or in the nursing home day-room. I wanted family, all his friends, anyone who knew and respected him to be there, decorations, him the centre of attention, people thanking him for all he had done. I would have liked for him to say sorry to his daughter and 'buried the hatchet' on past hurt and tumult and for him to see his grand-daughter and great-grandsons. I wish they could have been there, for him. (To be brutally honest, I have been glad he had no contact with them; I didn't want to share him.) I wish his son Anthony could have been there and we all had a big celebration. But I am not up to organising anything like that, I cannot find people or magically heal his family rift.

I just think, that for all his faults, Arthur deserves more than this. We have each other though, and from what Arthur has been telling me, it is enough for him. For me, to give Arthur roses and a card that said 'To My Husband' was more than enough.

Visiting Today.

Arthur stood up and sat back down three times on Monday, with the physiotherapist. It is a pity she s only there once a week as Arthur is not getting daily exercise, only when she is there. He is getting leg massages and sitting out in the air-chair daily, but it would be better of they stood him on his feet every day.

I am visiting three or four times a week and I know Arthur wants to be home under my care. I am bracing myself for a lot of hard work. I feeling depressed this week and I do not know if it is the worry about how I am going to care for him or if it is my muscle soreness. I am having a CT scan of my back today so maybe that will identify any problems.

All the problems seem to be overwhelming and doing my university tutorial this week was very stressful. I know I have t keep going with it. I wish I had the money to just retire but I do not. I probably will never be able to retire. Giving support to my son, who has depression, is such a drain but then again he is the only one who gives me any support, really.

I just want Arthur to have a comfortable and caring place and that can only happen at home with me.  I am going to visit him today.