In pain , her speech affected by recent strokes , receiving inadequate attention in a retirement village , my mother croaked over the phone that old age is terrible, and you should be able to take one of “Dr Nixon’s” pills to end it all. She meant Dr Philip Nitschke , an old Territory hand , whose euthanasia campaign has seen him both applauded and demonised.
Sixteen years ago, my mother was rushed to a capital city hospital with an aneurysm;it was touch and go. At the time , we told the doctors that she, an ex nurse,who had seen many people die in distressing circumstances , had expressed the desire to die quickly and not become a vegetable, " a burden " on her family. In our vigil , we spent hours in the intensive care waiting room watching cockroaches scurry about near the watercooler . Dozing one night , my head against the wall, I was suddenly made aware that something had dropped into my head and bitten me . Brushed off, it rocketed underneath the watercooler. Some women screamed on seeing cockies ; one shouted ," Kill it! Kill it! "as a man chased a large one sprinting towards the safety of the cooler.
Mum survived the operation, the weird little men she saw climbing into the ceiling , a wardsman who allegedly pinched her on the buttocks and marauding cockroaches.
In subsequent years she developed diabetes , had angina attacks , her back , ruined by lifting heavy patients while nursing, became increasing painful and , reluctantly, though " still with her marbles intact " , she moved into a retirement village. This she named the Funny Farm , tried to help less fortunate residents , and laughed at the elderly gent always trying to escape who maintained his family had put him in the village so they could sell his house. As the years went by she became increasingly concerned , almost fearful, about the future of Australia and mankind.
Panic attacks combined with more painful angina and a feeling of breathlessness saw her in and out of hospital, with variations in medication , monotonous questioning to ascertain basic information which should have been on record . Because of her age, diabetes, kidney trouble ,the former aneurism operation and angina , it was decided that it would doubtful that she would survive a heart operation .Therefore she was marked down for palliative care only when ever admitted to hospital .
Taking another bad turn, it was discovered she had suffered some mild strokes which impaired her speech and thought . Another a tough fortnight was spent back at the retirement village, during which she obviously did not get the personal care and attention required because of the inadequate way so many retirement villages are run, the staff poorly paid and the large turnover. Strangely, the subject of organ donours had come up at some stage and Mum was asked if she would like her body left to advance medical science. She responded by pulling the sheet up over her head and firmly stated she did not want to talk about the subject, Shut up!
After another emergency, she was given a morphine patch , and sent back to the retirement village. My sister discovered that in the last week there Mum had been left a food tray from which she attempted to feed herself . Due to her strokes, she was unable to control her hands and there was a trail of foodstuff from the tray, across the bedding onto her nighty.
Not long before her death , she was admitted to another public hospital and over a weekend it became apparent that she had not received the treatment ordered by a doctor , her tongue swollen, dehydrated and she in obvious pain. An at first aloof doctor, got the message when he was asked would he like his mother to be treated this way . By sheer luck, and perseverance by my sister and brother , she was moved to a palliative care ward in another hospital which was excellent from the point of view of care and attention , staff and facilities. It even boasted a chef who turned out meals which were so unlike the usual retirement village /hospital fare. Anybody for braised steak, mushroom sauce ,rice , pumpkin, beans , with pears , wine sauce and cream to follow ?
In anticipation of Mum’s imminent death , we began to clear out her unit at the retirement village , the only way out being through the front of the establishment, so that we carried her possessions past residents, some slumped in chairs oblivious to the world, others who knew her became emotionallyy affected . One poor old woman, flat on her back , kicked at her blankets and berated her children- calling them “shitheads”- for putting her in a place like that. “Entertainment” of some kind-Top Gear ?- was projected onto the wall with a noisy soundtrack , but there was so much light it was hard to see the images.
In a moment of lucidity at the hospital , Mum recalled the large ,long gone , Sydney department store, Anthony Hordern’s , where her sister had worked in the ladies cotton frocks section , and said it claimed to sell everything from a needle to a ship’s anchor ;its motto-WHILE I LIVE I’ll GROW . Before setting out to navigate the Styx , Mum also firmly stated that she owned the air conditioner in her unit at the retirement village. Mum had made provision for everything –the cremation and the wake, which included prawns and oysters, she having a liking for seafood. Conscious of the pennies to the very end,she said a woman had told her that the market offered cheap cardboard coffins . A chorus of assurances that she should not worry about anything at all , especially the cost of a coffin , followed.
Another melancholy task involved selecting a resting place for Mum’s ashes in a memorial garden. Walking about the site, which offered a range of possibilities from rose gardens to memorial walls , you could not help feel sorry reading the sentiments expressed, the tragic losses and seeing the memorabilia scattered on and around the memorial stones. Here was what looked like the large bone of a shark, dolphin or even a whale perched atop a memorial along with a bleached seashell ; some Dear Departed were shown in cameos with pets ; cat, dog and bird figurines were numerous along with plastic flowers, windmills, marbles , candles , imitation butterflies, cherubs, angels , pelicans and toy cars .
There were several photos of prized autos. From the brief wording on plaques there were indications of injustices –Vonnie, for instance, did not deserve the life she had endured . A Southern Comfort bottle stood guard on a memorial bush rock. The multicultural face of Australia was reflected in the cemetery, one of the many Chinese there having worked on China’s hydro-electric schemes; someone had been sadly taken in Sarawak.
RIP : An indication that life goes on no matter what is the fact that numerous lizards found the memorial rocks ideal places to sprawl out on and soak up the life giving rays .
Sixteen years ago, my mother was rushed to a capital city hospital with an aneurysm;it was touch and go. At the time , we told the doctors that she, an ex nurse,who had seen many people die in distressing circumstances , had expressed the desire to die quickly and not become a vegetable, " a burden " on her family. In our vigil , we spent hours in the intensive care waiting room watching cockroaches scurry about near the watercooler . Dozing one night , my head against the wall, I was suddenly made aware that something had dropped into my head and bitten me . Brushed off, it rocketed underneath the watercooler. Some women screamed on seeing cockies ; one shouted ," Kill it! Kill it! "as a man chased a large one sprinting towards the safety of the cooler.
Mum survived the operation, the weird little men she saw climbing into the ceiling , a wardsman who allegedly pinched her on the buttocks and marauding cockroaches.
In subsequent years she developed diabetes , had angina attacks , her back , ruined by lifting heavy patients while nursing, became increasing painful and , reluctantly, though " still with her marbles intact " , she moved into a retirement village. This she named the Funny Farm , tried to help less fortunate residents , and laughed at the elderly gent always trying to escape who maintained his family had put him in the village so they could sell his house. As the years went by she became increasingly concerned , almost fearful, about the future of Australia and mankind.
Panic attacks combined with more painful angina and a feeling of breathlessness saw her in and out of hospital, with variations in medication , monotonous questioning to ascertain basic information which should have been on record . Because of her age, diabetes, kidney trouble ,the former aneurism operation and angina , it was decided that it would doubtful that she would survive a heart operation .Therefore she was marked down for palliative care only when ever admitted to hospital .
Taking another bad turn, it was discovered she had suffered some mild strokes which impaired her speech and thought . Another a tough fortnight was spent back at the retirement village, during which she obviously did not get the personal care and attention required because of the inadequate way so many retirement villages are run, the staff poorly paid and the large turnover. Strangely, the subject of organ donours had come up at some stage and Mum was asked if she would like her body left to advance medical science. She responded by pulling the sheet up over her head and firmly stated she did not want to talk about the subject, Shut up!
After another emergency, she was given a morphine patch , and sent back to the retirement village. My sister discovered that in the last week there Mum had been left a food tray from which she attempted to feed herself . Due to her strokes, she was unable to control her hands and there was a trail of foodstuff from the tray, across the bedding onto her nighty.
Not long before her death , she was admitted to another public hospital and over a weekend it became apparent that she had not received the treatment ordered by a doctor , her tongue swollen, dehydrated and she in obvious pain. An at first aloof doctor, got the message when he was asked would he like his mother to be treated this way . By sheer luck, and perseverance by my sister and brother , she was moved to a palliative care ward in another hospital which was excellent from the point of view of care and attention , staff and facilities. It even boasted a chef who turned out meals which were so unlike the usual retirement village /hospital fare. Anybody for braised steak, mushroom sauce ,rice , pumpkin, beans , with pears , wine sauce and cream to follow ?
In anticipation of Mum’s imminent death , we began to clear out her unit at the retirement village , the only way out being through the front of the establishment, so that we carried her possessions past residents, some slumped in chairs oblivious to the world, others who knew her became emotionallyy affected . One poor old woman, flat on her back , kicked at her blankets and berated her children- calling them “shitheads”- for putting her in a place like that. “Entertainment” of some kind-Top Gear ?- was projected onto the wall with a noisy soundtrack , but there was so much light it was hard to see the images.
In a moment of lucidity at the hospital , Mum recalled the large ,long gone , Sydney department store, Anthony Hordern’s , where her sister had worked in the ladies cotton frocks section , and said it claimed to sell everything from a needle to a ship’s anchor ;its motto-WHILE I LIVE I’ll GROW . Before setting out to navigate the Styx , Mum also firmly stated that she owned the air conditioner in her unit at the retirement village. Mum had made provision for everything –the cremation and the wake, which included prawns and oysters, she having a liking for seafood. Conscious of the pennies to the very end,she said a woman had told her that the market offered cheap cardboard coffins . A chorus of assurances that she should not worry about anything at all , especially the cost of a coffin , followed.
Another melancholy task involved selecting a resting place for Mum’s ashes in a memorial garden. Walking about the site, which offered a range of possibilities from rose gardens to memorial walls , you could not help feel sorry reading the sentiments expressed, the tragic losses and seeing the memorabilia scattered on and around the memorial stones. Here was what looked like the large bone of a shark, dolphin or even a whale perched atop a memorial along with a bleached seashell ; some Dear Departed were shown in cameos with pets ; cat, dog and bird figurines were numerous along with plastic flowers, windmills, marbles , candles , imitation butterflies, cherubs, angels , pelicans and toy cars .
There were several photos of prized autos. From the brief wording on plaques there were indications of injustices –Vonnie, for instance, did not deserve the life she had endured . A Southern Comfort bottle stood guard on a memorial bush rock. The multicultural face of Australia was reflected in the cemetery, one of the many Chinese there having worked on China’s hydro-electric schemes; someone had been sadly taken in Sarawak.
RIP : An indication that life goes on no matter what is the fact that numerous lizards found the memorial rocks ideal places to sprawl out on and soak up the life giving rays .
