Late again, bad blogger, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me when I tell you the news. I’ve had a mad day today. Good thing I went for a quick Pacific dip before breakfast, it turned out to be the only time I was able to get outside all day. Waste of a lip-smacking autumn number, but it couldn’t be helped. My deadline looms and now other things have happened that mean getting the articles written pronto. Namely, Nana’s got a bed.
You know, I won’t believe it until I see it. It still feels firmly in the ‘too good to be true’ category, but I wasn’t dreaming when I spoke to my sister yesterday, and I’ve had no word to the contrary today. Perhaps it’s really happening. Oh, blessed, blessed relief. And according to Gayl, the saintly creature from Uniting Care who’s been my lifeline and Nana’s cheerful and well-trained companion, it’s all happening just in the nick of time. We don’t know why, but there seems to have been a decline in her condition. So really, this is an amazing gift, because Nana living alone was getting increasingly hair-raising. I didn’t even tell you the locked out story. I didn’t know where to begin so just kind of forced it into a deep recess of my mind. But make no mistake: Nana is not long for independent living.
Easier said than done, of course, except not in this case (is it real…?). Kate was so excited when she called me yesterday I had to wait for her to slow down to fully appreciate what she was saying. It all came out in a jumble: Crowley, permanent bed, water views, better than St Andrews.
“Better than St Andrews?”
I didn’t think this was possible on the aged-care facility front.
“Di,” she said, “it is incredible. We have to take it.”
My sentiments exactly.
“Put your foot on it right now,” I said.
I was in Instruction Mode. Kate was basically acting as my agent – I’m the enduring Power of Attorney (POA), which really means nothing more than Administration Lackey. Paperwork Whore. Signatory Slut. That’s why I wanted to say “Buy! Buy!” or something equally instructive, invigorating, and powerful… but really we’re not buying anything. Nana is getting a bed thanks to the good grace of Australian tax payers.
“You have seven days,” my sister said, neatly turning that whole instruction gambit right on its head. She’s the eldest, so perhaps it’s the natural order. “Your time starts now.”
Well, no, actually we whooped it up on the phone for quite a while longer.
Anyway, I spent yesterday making calls, writing letters, licking envelopes, advising service providers, bringing certain aspects of Nana’s care to a friendly and efficient close. I booked two seats up to Ballina. I booked one return. Hopefully by the time I next post on Monday afternoon or night, Nana will be ensconced in her new home and – if the St Andrews experiment was anything to go by – happy as a clam.
Here’s hoping, hoping, hoping.