Return to cyberspace
We have been without Internet access since I first tried to post this last Sunday afternoon, but we’re back in business!
Sunday's post:
We spent a quiet evening at home last night, watching a movie with the Zigman’s. The night passed uneventfully and so did today. Gilly performed better neurologically yesterday afternoon than he did during the evening, I’d say. No improvement is noticeable today, however no serious set back is evident either.
Yaron is in the process of dismantling Gilly’s office. It is exceptionally dusty and model train materials are everywhere. Gilly literally built himself (his display) into the room, basically and now we are trying to pack away the trains and accompanying materials in a respectful, careful manner. Gilly mentioned awhile back that he no longer uses these materials and showed an interest in selling them. They have been gathering dust for eons, and there is no way the room could be cleaned without removing the materials. We’ll wait on selling the materials for now, but Yaron will move into this room as soon as we have it clean (which could take a fair bit of time). I’m not sure why, but it feels like the right thing to do at this point. Gilly will be supervised by someone upstairs during the night or downstairs, depending on which scenario wins out. I feel we are taking affirmative action in a sensible manner.
Gilly offered us his blessing in terms of making the switch. We checked many times before embarking on the project, but as soon as the work got started, he had an emotional reaction. You could see it in his eyes. He says nothing, but it’s easy to read. His answers to questions are inconsistent. I believe it hurts him to know that he is unable to do what he used to spend hours on; he had a real passion for his model trains. He built each one as a true labour of love. I got him hooked on this hobby many years ago by buying him one piece of track and one locomotive model set. I’d say he stopped working on them about 5 years ago when his travels took him away too far and for too long.
I wish I could find a new hobby for him that he could enjoy; he spends his time sleeping, eating, and just sitting around. Nothing seems to bring him pleasure except phone calls and visits. He does enjoy music when we eat, but even the television brings him little pleasure due to sensory loss. I have been trying to solve this huge dilemma for months now, but I’m no further ahead. I hope to figure something out one day soon.
Wednesday’s post:
Yaron persevered and, with more than a little motherly prodding he managed to untangle the Internet problem. Hopefully, this will do the trick on a long term basis. It had something to do with splitters and wires and all sorts of matters uninteresting to me.
Gilly hasn’t fallen from bed since the new measures were put into place last Friday, but he has fallen here and there while traversing around the house, mainly because he flatly refuses to use a walker. Truth be known, he’s steadier than last week, but it’s still a relative term.
Now and then he appears disoriented, but this comes and goes. Because he hardly speaks and rarely moves around, it’s not clear how disoriented he really is. He recognizes voices on the phone, which seems to be a good sign. Susie called yesterday and I heard him say “hi Sue.” His answers to questions are increasingly more inconsistent. You could ask him the same question 4 times and there'd be a 50 / 50 chance of receiving a yes or no. He answered “yes” to Susie when she asked if he had gone to physio that day; he hadn’t, so it could be his awareness of reality, or a problem with memory, or, well, I don’t know what. Suffice it so say that his answers are not reliable, so we resort to guesswork based on what we know of his likes and dislikes, his facial expression and his mood.
We were called by the Jewish to come in for a swallowing test. First they mentioned next week at 11:00. I wondered how I’d get him there, since I teach Wednesday mornings, and then realized I could bite the bullet (I’m afraid of the unknown) and use the transport system. I was called back to ask if we'd come the following day instead (yesterday morning, in fact). I refused. It’s too difficult to plan it all at such short notice. Now I have a week to work out the kinks.
Gilly has made his way downstairs two days in a row, and refuses to come upstairs at my bidding. Yaron stayed down on Tuesday evening to allow me to nap, and then insisted he come up once he went to bed. Last night he gave me grief. I typed this downstairs on the couch, because he really needs to be in full view; he takes ridiculous chances.
A few days ago I mentioned to Tamara that I feel sad for my students this semester, because my teaching is not up to par. I admitted that I am anxiously awaiting the end of semester; I am just so tired and stressed that it is becoming increasingly difficult to focus on my work. Once I get home, I have realities to face at every turn. While at the college, it is hard to find a quiet, undisturbed location to catch up. Our offices are communal, and mine is located as part of grand central station, due to my role as fieldwork coordinator. Not having Internet access at home for two full working evenings did not help either.
She replied, “You know mom, you always give 150%, so even if you’re giving only 75%, it’s still more than some teachers offer to their students.” I felt somewhat consoled by her comment. It is true that I tend to try very hard to meet the needs of my students, and I care deeply about their learning. I especially hope to inspire them to make every attempt to extend their own learning; I share my passion with them for the topic at hand and hope that they will take the ball and run wit it. I make every effort to reduce their anxiety as best I can. Yesterday, a student came to see me in my office. She had something to speak to me about in confidence. She told me that she feels safe with me because of the type of teacher I am; she claims that I treat students with respect and share real life examples which students can relate to so as to bring theory to life during class sessions. I may not be accomplishing all of my goals according to my usual standards, but I guess I am having an influence (at least on some students), and for this I am a grateful.
I broke down during yoga class on Tuesday; kind of ironic, since I find this the most relaxing part of my week. Three quarters of the way into class all was quiet and calm as per usual. Suddenly my cell phone, which I normally turn off for class, started to ring. I noticed my instructor’s glance of disapproval as I slipped hurriedly out the door. It was a call from Lethbridge letting me know that they’d be coming by the next day at 9:00 to measure Gilly for a wheelchair.
I knew that I could not return to class; I was shaken by the call, because it gave me a melancholy feeling, and I was embarrassed for having broken the spell of peaceful mind and body connection we were all experiencing before the interruption. I waited outside the door during the cool down, which I needed just as much as the rigorous part of the session, if not more. Despite several invitations by my instructor to return, I sat outside and allowed tears to well up in my eyes. I let my guard down, and the waters came rushing forth.
I approached the instructor after class to apologize, but I could not speak coherently. She was exceptionally understanding and empathetic, as one would expect a yoga instructor to be. I remained on shaky ground for the rest of the day. I suppose I need the cry, but once I allowed my emotions to get the better of me, I realized how very badly I need to cry. It took very little to put me over the edge.
Lesson learned; leave the cell phone in my office next Tuesday.
I asked Yaron to spot Gilly for me that evening, and managed to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep under my belt. I think that’s what I need most. Even when there is no good reason to awaken, I find myself stirring, riddled with an unsettling feeling. My body reminds me repeatedly that something is very wrong. It’s a physical sensation, akin to butterflies in my stomach, although I feel it in my chest.
Gilly sleeps for longer periods during the night; sometimes he goes for 4 hours at a time. I’m not sure why, but this allows me longer naps between the need for high alert. Once he sits up he takes an awful long time to move; I have to struggle to remain vigilant despite my body’s need for sleep. I remember my babies moving from constant night feedings to longer stretches of sleep. In those days, I played tag team with Gilly; Yaron is my new partner.
Yesterday I learned that my blog postings are useful to others in similar circumstances. One of my colleagues candidly let me in on the fact that she missed reading my blog postings this week; she told me that she shared an excerpt from a recent posting with her dad. He too is having trouble when his wife shows anger towards him. This is turning out to be an on-line support group of sorts. Months ago, a special person who lives afar shared the same sentiment; she too is a care giver and has been for many years. She sees many parallels to what she experiences, as does another friend I used to work with, come to think of it. I’m honoured to be of help to anyone through this venue. I find it fascinating how sharing an experience with others, something I started for selfish reasons may have far reaching effects.
Sunday's post:
We spent a quiet evening at home last night, watching a movie with the Zigman’s. The night passed uneventfully and so did today. Gilly performed better neurologically yesterday afternoon than he did during the evening, I’d say. No improvement is noticeable today, however no serious set back is evident either.
Yaron is in the process of dismantling Gilly’s office. It is exceptionally dusty and model train materials are everywhere. Gilly literally built himself (his display) into the room, basically and now we are trying to pack away the trains and accompanying materials in a respectful, careful manner. Gilly mentioned awhile back that he no longer uses these materials and showed an interest in selling them. They have been gathering dust for eons, and there is no way the room could be cleaned without removing the materials. We’ll wait on selling the materials for now, but Yaron will move into this room as soon as we have it clean (which could take a fair bit of time). I’m not sure why, but it feels like the right thing to do at this point. Gilly will be supervised by someone upstairs during the night or downstairs, depending on which scenario wins out. I feel we are taking affirmative action in a sensible manner.
Gilly offered us his blessing in terms of making the switch. We checked many times before embarking on the project, but as soon as the work got started, he had an emotional reaction. You could see it in his eyes. He says nothing, but it’s easy to read. His answers to questions are inconsistent. I believe it hurts him to know that he is unable to do what he used to spend hours on; he had a real passion for his model trains. He built each one as a true labour of love. I got him hooked on this hobby many years ago by buying him one piece of track and one locomotive model set. I’d say he stopped working on them about 5 years ago when his travels took him away too far and for too long.
I wish I could find a new hobby for him that he could enjoy; he spends his time sleeping, eating, and just sitting around. Nothing seems to bring him pleasure except phone calls and visits. He does enjoy music when we eat, but even the television brings him little pleasure due to sensory loss. I have been trying to solve this huge dilemma for months now, but I’m no further ahead. I hope to figure something out one day soon.
Wednesday’s post:
Yaron persevered and, with more than a little motherly prodding he managed to untangle the Internet problem. Hopefully, this will do the trick on a long term basis. It had something to do with splitters and wires and all sorts of matters uninteresting to me.
Gilly hasn’t fallen from bed since the new measures were put into place last Friday, but he has fallen here and there while traversing around the house, mainly because he flatly refuses to use a walker. Truth be known, he’s steadier than last week, but it’s still a relative term.
Now and then he appears disoriented, but this comes and goes. Because he hardly speaks and rarely moves around, it’s not clear how disoriented he really is. He recognizes voices on the phone, which seems to be a good sign. Susie called yesterday and I heard him say “hi Sue.” His answers to questions are increasingly more inconsistent. You could ask him the same question 4 times and there'd be a 50 / 50 chance of receiving a yes or no. He answered “yes” to Susie when she asked if he had gone to physio that day; he hadn’t, so it could be his awareness of reality, or a problem with memory, or, well, I don’t know what. Suffice it so say that his answers are not reliable, so we resort to guesswork based on what we know of his likes and dislikes, his facial expression and his mood.
We were called by the Jewish to come in for a swallowing test. First they mentioned next week at 11:00. I wondered how I’d get him there, since I teach Wednesday mornings, and then realized I could bite the bullet (I’m afraid of the unknown) and use the transport system. I was called back to ask if we'd come the following day instead (yesterday morning, in fact). I refused. It’s too difficult to plan it all at such short notice. Now I have a week to work out the kinks.
Gilly has made his way downstairs two days in a row, and refuses to come upstairs at my bidding. Yaron stayed down on Tuesday evening to allow me to nap, and then insisted he come up once he went to bed. Last night he gave me grief. I typed this downstairs on the couch, because he really needs to be in full view; he takes ridiculous chances.
A few days ago I mentioned to Tamara that I feel sad for my students this semester, because my teaching is not up to par. I admitted that I am anxiously awaiting the end of semester; I am just so tired and stressed that it is becoming increasingly difficult to focus on my work. Once I get home, I have realities to face at every turn. While at the college, it is hard to find a quiet, undisturbed location to catch up. Our offices are communal, and mine is located as part of grand central station, due to my role as fieldwork coordinator. Not having Internet access at home for two full working evenings did not help either.
She replied, “You know mom, you always give 150%, so even if you’re giving only 75%, it’s still more than some teachers offer to their students.” I felt somewhat consoled by her comment. It is true that I tend to try very hard to meet the needs of my students, and I care deeply about their learning. I especially hope to inspire them to make every attempt to extend their own learning; I share my passion with them for the topic at hand and hope that they will take the ball and run wit it. I make every effort to reduce their anxiety as best I can. Yesterday, a student came to see me in my office. She had something to speak to me about in confidence. She told me that she feels safe with me because of the type of teacher I am; she claims that I treat students with respect and share real life examples which students can relate to so as to bring theory to life during class sessions. I may not be accomplishing all of my goals according to my usual standards, but I guess I am having an influence (at least on some students), and for this I am a grateful.
I broke down during yoga class on Tuesday; kind of ironic, since I find this the most relaxing part of my week. Three quarters of the way into class all was quiet and calm as per usual. Suddenly my cell phone, which I normally turn off for class, started to ring. I noticed my instructor’s glance of disapproval as I slipped hurriedly out the door. It was a call from Lethbridge letting me know that they’d be coming by the next day at 9:00 to measure Gilly for a wheelchair.
I knew that I could not return to class; I was shaken by the call, because it gave me a melancholy feeling, and I was embarrassed for having broken the spell of peaceful mind and body connection we were all experiencing before the interruption. I waited outside the door during the cool down, which I needed just as much as the rigorous part of the session, if not more. Despite several invitations by my instructor to return, I sat outside and allowed tears to well up in my eyes. I let my guard down, and the waters came rushing forth.
I approached the instructor after class to apologize, but I could not speak coherently. She was exceptionally understanding and empathetic, as one would expect a yoga instructor to be. I remained on shaky ground for the rest of the day. I suppose I need the cry, but once I allowed my emotions to get the better of me, I realized how very badly I need to cry. It took very little to put me over the edge.
Lesson learned; leave the cell phone in my office next Tuesday.
I asked Yaron to spot Gilly for me that evening, and managed to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep under my belt. I think that’s what I need most. Even when there is no good reason to awaken, I find myself stirring, riddled with an unsettling feeling. My body reminds me repeatedly that something is very wrong. It’s a physical sensation, akin to butterflies in my stomach, although I feel it in my chest.
Gilly sleeps for longer periods during the night; sometimes he goes for 4 hours at a time. I’m not sure why, but this allows me longer naps between the need for high alert. Once he sits up he takes an awful long time to move; I have to struggle to remain vigilant despite my body’s need for sleep. I remember my babies moving from constant night feedings to longer stretches of sleep. In those days, I played tag team with Gilly; Yaron is my new partner.
Yesterday I learned that my blog postings are useful to others in similar circumstances. One of my colleagues candidly let me in on the fact that she missed reading my blog postings this week; she told me that she shared an excerpt from a recent posting with her dad. He too is having trouble when his wife shows anger towards him. This is turning out to be an on-line support group of sorts. Months ago, a special person who lives afar shared the same sentiment; she too is a care giver and has been for many years. She sees many parallels to what she experiences, as does another friend I used to work with, come to think of it. I’m honoured to be of help to anyone through this venue. I find it fascinating how sharing an experience with others, something I started for selfish reasons may have far reaching effects.
posted by Gilly at 5:12 PM
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