Me and Mrs Bugger Fuck part two-a day in the life of a first time carer.

(For those of you shocked by the title a little reminder:‘Me and Mrs Bugger Fuck’-a name that will offend some and cause hilarity amongst others: It sums up the wonderfully eccentric fun loving lady that I had the pleasure of caring for and HER two favourite words! For those who may be offended, Mrs BF would simply say, ‘F**k orf!’)

Well now, where do I begin?
I’d be lying if I said I was jumping with joy as I returned to the abode of Mrs BF, mainly as I’d heard the latest carer was refusing to return! This was particularly worrying given Mrs BF had spoken so fondly of her only a month previously. This was now the second carer who had left in a matter of months. Oh boy-what was I letting myself in for this time?
 I met the departing carer briefly and she explained the situation: Mrs BF seemed to have become even more highly critical, grumpy and picky than before-the carer was constantly walking on egg shells and seemed she could do no right. This was an unfortunate situation indeed-I feared she would soon run out of willing carers and at this rate maybe i’d be one of them!
I took a Deep breath and began my first day: It soon became obvious that Mrs BF was indeed worse than before; I was afraid the connection we’d had before had disappeared and if so, not only would I be greatly saddened but I didn’t know if i’d return; after all there are plenty of other clients out there but I had thought it could be quite special to build a bond with one person. I knew she’d had a bad bout of Flu and I’m sure that had set her back again; I was also wondering if there were any early signs of Dementia. I was determined to not let it get the better of me-noone ever said this job was meant to be easy!

Sarcasm-cynicism--criticism- these describe the mood on/off these last few days, with the occasional glimpse of the sense of humour that i’d loved so much the first time we’d met. My patience was indeed being pushed to the limits- Dementia has not yet been diagnosed (and hope it never is) and maybe she will improve but my GOD! I need the patience of a saint! I vowed then to find other coping stratagies, which would make life easier for both of us. So, in my afternoon break I went and became a member of the local library-signed up for twice weekly Pilates clases to help with my back problems-found a wonderful little hippie caf√© playing great music and checked out the local cinema! I knew that a happy carer would mean a happier client and if i could find sanctuary outside the house in my break I would return reenergised and better able to deal with whatever dark mood would be awaiting me: And boy has it begun to make a difference.
  Yesterday I went round the corner to the local cinema: It was more like a time warp; maybe it’s a bit of an expat thing-this ocassionally idealized vision of life back in the UK- a vision ocassionally frozen in time but this place without doubt would be deemed almost  antique in the cinematic world i’m sure. I suddenly felt as i were  back in the 70’s-back to my childhood again; I was even given a free cup of tea from the little old lady who took our (me and the only other person in the cinema) tickets, a novel experience indeed. I sat back, checked my phone- (on view but on silent in the event of any emergency calls) and relaxed as i enjoyed the lovely Jonny Depp.

I’m glad to report that today I returned home refreshed from my Pilates class to find a not too grumpy Mrs BF who cheered up even more at the sight of the coffee cake and smarties I’d brought her. The distraction of a visit from her relative probably helped too to lift her spirits momentarily. It was nice to finally laugh again properly as we listened to a report on, ’50 shades of grey’ the movie; prompting her to begin a rather graphic description of the ‘shocking’ goings on of some of her collegues back in the day; an MP with a penchant for whipping and being whipped-the friends who enjoyed threesomes-and all the war wives who became ‘lezzers’ while the boys were away ( her words not mine!) She of course thought it all rather ‘disgraceful’ though she did describe the Sado MP as ‘divine, charming and a ‘hoot’-for once my eyebrows were shooting higher than hers! Glad we were back on track with our bizarre conversations.

 My greatest frustration is simultaneously hers: Frustration as a lifetime of adventure and Independence is reduced to a body and brain who are most definitely NOT in simultaneous agreement-reliant on everyone and everything (her zimmerframe for example) her life is no longer her own and she will of course never drive again. Difficult indeed and I sympathise greatly, I empathise, I put myself in her shoes and can only imagine my frustration but, and this is a big but: This does NOT have to be the end of all pleasure and this is MY frustration-what do you do when someone will NOT listen at all? Who, despite moments of rational thinking and recognition of her stubborness, will absolutetely refuse to do anything suggested??!!
 I long to take her out either in the car or in her wheelchair to visit her few Friends still breathing-or get her to partake in her favourite past time,Bridge. I have tried every tactic known to man but to no avail-so an unhappy person sits in a chair in front of the televisi√≥n in a steaming hot centrally heated sauna of a living room-reading the the broadsheets and stuck on the goggle box all day. She will move from her chair to the toilet and kitchen-and the occassional trip upstairs via the stanna to visit her living room. If she were honestly content to live like this, then who am i to try and push an 88 year old woman into changing? But she is NOT happy at all and indeed mentions death on an almost daily basis-this is not an easy situation believe me-we’ve managed to half joke about that in our dark way and steadfastly refused to take her to Switzerland! But damn i’m having to work my patience. Thanks to ‘HeadSpace’ my patience is improving and my mind is becoming slightly more peaceful with my nightly meditations, enabling me to switch off from death, Sado MPs and whatever other oddities

  Glad to report things seem to be a little better and some of that old chemistry seems to have returned; I really do enjoy some of our hilarious off the Wall chats and it so completely changes the mood in
well it probably goes down as one of the least romantic in my personal history so far-both Mrs BF and I stuffing our faces with chocolate whilst drooling over the rugby (her not me) ‘Bloody French’ she shrieks with a mouthful of Thorntons. Atthis point I decide to retire upstairs and try to capture the ‘romantic’ mood by watching ‘The romantic Englishwoman’ with Glenda Jackson and Michael Caine-It didn’t work, odd to say the least: I spent most of the film wondering if they were in Surrey where I was born. From Dorian Grey to Ana Karenina to this-my film choices haven’t done much to enhance my mood this week. I was momentarily feeling rather sorry for myself, pathetic and ridiculous I know but there is something about all this faux romance being shoved in your face that makes you dwell on past relationships. Oh well. So I retired to bed and to my latest book about Afghanistan, ‘And the mountains echoed ’ Khaled Hosseini: It was there I stumbled across this quote by ‘Rumi’ and it was that that truly made my Valentines day, beautiful indeed.

“Out beyond ideas
of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
There is a field.
I’ll meet you there.” Rumi

A truly sunny day! I left Mrs BF lazing in bed with her Sunday papers to take a brisk walk into the great British countryside, though Mrs BF felt my ‘attire would scare the natives’! My ‘attire’ being incredibly normal in my little mind, consisting of black and white leggings, black biker style boots and black jacket-how could I possibly scare the ‘natives’ in that?!

 Ah how I rejoice at the feel of the sun’s rays on my face again: Glorious feeling to match a glorious day.

I returned to the house feeling invigorated and began with Mrs BF’s ablutions and back massage: She informed me about ‘Eastender’s’ 30th aniversary and pooh poohed my mention of ‘Coronation street’ -her comments in regards to erm, the ‘inhabitants’ who reside somewhere further North are some of the most politically uncorrect you can imagine but I expect nothing less from her! And you can but laugh at her downright rudeness-she ‘simply doesn’t give a damn’. I have this fantasy ( perhaps fantasy is really the wrong Word to use here given who it concerns) of getting Nigel Farrage and her in the same room together and filming it-the discussion I mean! It would be truly compulsive viewing and one of the funniest things you’d ever seen and heard. She ‘simply detests him,’ ‘awful drunken idiot,’ ‘pissed as a fart’ and yet the two of them do have certain views in common and are probably as downright rude as eachother. I’d give anything to see that-legendary moment: In fact, she sent back his electoral bumf, saying in no uncertain terms she would NOT be voting for his party and that it was damned rude to address her by her first name in the letter instead of, ‘Mrs’… (well not Bugger Fuck of course though I will not use her real name here)

 Whilst writing this I stopped to casually note that she’d not been saying ‘fuck’ nearly as much as the last time I was here; She retorted, “Darling I was fucking far too much, I really must stop though I wish I really was!Haha!” You cannot begin to imagine the pleasure I derive from those words-it means she is better, far better than last week.
I’m looking forward to an afternoon/evening of hopefully good film and TV: I’ve borrowed ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ from the library as I’m sure Mrs BF will enjoy and we are both looking forward to the first in the series of ‘Indian Summer’, both of us with our Indian connections. Let's see how that pans out...

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