Cool apps for a live-in carer

I am one of those people who needs to be able to see how I am doing. Track my progress. Sometimes I need a visual reminder of why I am doing this, where it is taking me, and what I am achieving.

I have found three apps for my phone that help me with this.

Countdown+. 

I enter the date of my next break, and every day, boldly displayed on my phone screen, I see the number of days left. Very therapeutic. 

It allows lots of dates, so I had one for when my son was due to visit, and I even have the date that I landed here so I can see at a glance how any days I've been in the UK (380 today!)

Piggy Bank. 

Every day, I enter the amount I have earned that day. And the bar moves slowly to the right hand side of the screen and I can feel good that I am building up, step by step, day by day.

Especially good for when I start to ask myself the "why" question!

MyTracks. 

I love this one. When I go for a long walk, I track myself. It not only shows me the route I've walked (so that I can find my way back again!) it also shows me the distance, elevation and calories burned. Good accountability partner, that one.

I am sure that there are many more lifesaving apps out there. Maybe we can do a post showing the favourite travel and accommodation apps that most of us use. What else is there that I an add to my own "feelgood" collection?

When we miss home...

Walking barefoot on the beach

 My friend Sue asked me this morning if I am missing home. Home being Cape Town, until I sold my house there (the new owner took it over on the 1st August, just the other day). Now I'm not actually sure where home is.

The answer? Well, yes. Of course I am. But now that I'm allowing myself to think about it, what do I miss the most?

Some things that spring to mind:

1. Internet. Wherever you go in Cape Town, you are connected. And I am sure it is cheaper there too. Here, it is come and go. Today, thanks to the rain, it is a go.
2. Parking. Back home, whatever it is that I am wanting to buy, I can find a shop that sells it relatively nearby, get into my car, drive there, and park. Or walk! And when I visit friends, no matter where they live, I can park either on the property, or on the street outside their front door.
3. Distances. Everything important is so close to home. Under 15km. I used to find myself putting aside a whole day if I needed to get to the northern suburbs, or even Fish Hoek/Simonstown. Anything over 25km seemed a long drive. Whereas now: Cambridge from Southampton? No problem! Be there in 4 hours, have a cold beer waiting, please.
4. Spontaneity: I miss popping up the road for a cocktail with my friends. Or a coffee, sushi, a walk on the beach or up the mountain. Spur of the moment. 
5. My family - always up for any of the above, although my mum was always a better drinking buddy than my boys. Not sure where I went wrong with them, when I order a beer, they have milkshakes.... and they're both in their twenties...
6. My neighbour Nick. The sound of his guitar through the walls when he practised. "Hi Margs" from over the wall if we were both hanging out the washing or working in our gardens. The ever ready bottle of red if I'd run out. And if I cooked too much dinner, he was always happy to share. 
7. My cats.... who are now happily ensconced at Nick's place next door.
8. Music. There is  something musical happening within 15 minutes from home, in pretty much any direction. From Concerts in the Park as we picnic on lawns under trees, Kirstenbosch Summer Concerts in the shadow of the mountain in the country's most beautiful garden, to jamming in a local pub or even an international band at the nearby Green Point Stadium.
9. Rugby. It is just not the same, watching it on my phone, alone, in between calls for commode assistance...
10. Familiarity: At home, I knew where to find information, or who to ask. I always knew someone who knew something about anything. Here, I've had to try figure it all out, and I am still doing that. But getting there... 

See, not too morbid a post, this. I am slowly building up a network of quality friends here. And I did feel at home from day one; I love how things just work here.

 I am fairly sure that feeling homesick is something we share. What is it about the place you left behind that you miss the most? Would you go back? I am determined to spend at least a month every year in Cape Town. And all the things I've listed above will still be there...

Is this it?

Hanging in a hoist, during update training, I have to wonder. Is this it? What we have to look forward to? 

Picture it. 

A class of 9 live-in carers doing their annual update training, learning about new equipment and being tested on our moving and handling skills. We are transferring each other from wheelchair to chair. From bed to commode. From lying to sitting.

And this is where I start getting morbid.

It is disheartening enough that we are performing these moves on elderly, vulnerable adults all day every day. But next up, it will be my mother in the hoist. And then it will be my kids having to find someone to do it all for me. 

I could cry.

A reminder that time counts, and that we have a duty to make the most of it. 

My first step is to make sure that I ALWAYS have something to look forward to. That will help me get through the day-to-day tediousness.

Then I will book a holiday with my mum. And keep doing that, at least every three months.

And I will always look for the real person behind the façade of helplessness that presents itself to the world. These men and women have lived full lives and are full of stories and experiences. And it is up to me to recognise that in them.

And to help them to feel special.

First anniversary as a carer. Dreams, achievements and lessons.

A year. How do I feel about that?

Well this is a tough one. I have a different perspective now that I am taking a few weeks off and relaxing in a friend's flat. I am surrounded by hills and footpaths and beautiful scenery and yes, I'll confess, a shopping mall adds to the picture here. Much more positive now than when I was stuck in an old lady's house day in and day out with confused ramblings and constant criticisms for conversation.

Looking back on this past year fills me with mixed feelings.

When I set out in July 2014, I had big dreams.

1. Travel - UK, Europe, Eastern Europe. Travel is easy and affordable from here, isn't it?
2. Collect interesting stories from people who have been around since the beginning of the previous century
3. Pay off debt - mine and the boys' student loans
4. Pay off my house
5. Build up a huge savings
6. Make new friends
7. Have ME time
8. Buy a leather jacket
9. My money! spend my earnings on myself for the first time since leaving home at 18. 
10. Get the kids fully independent

What of these have I achieved in 12 months?

1. Travel - Barcelona, Wales, Cape Town, various parts of England. Not nearly as much as I'd hoped for
2. Stories - the thing with 99 year olds is that in most cases their ability to tell stories is, well, challenged. I felt like I was eavesdropping on my lovely old lady with dementia when she started talking to imaginary friends/family about personal stuff! I could write a book on that....
3. Debt and 
4. house - well I sold the house, and paid off all the debt. Tick those off.
5. Savings - I'm working on that.
6. New friends - tick. I keep meeting such inspiring, strong, interesting people. Far more so than I did back home, working at an office.
7. ME time - I try. And to be honest I think I can tick this one. I make ME time a priority now, whereas in my old life I kicked myself to one side too often.
8. Leather jacket - still to come. That will just be a symbolic purchase. 
9. My money: spend my earnings on me - yes, most of my money is mine now. What I manage to hold on to, that is.
10. Independent kids. Tick that one off. I am so proud of those boys. They have achieved so much these last 12 months. One has just landed an apartment at the V&A Waterfront! And the other is about to walk off with his Bsc in Genetics and Biochem. Well done, boys. 

What have I learnt about myself?

1. I can do this. So many people say "I could never do what you're doing" but you what? You probably could. Some empathy, perseverance, determination, and focus, and a view of the bigger picture makes it manageable.
2. I am resilient!
3. I can allow myself the occasional wobble. Or, as I like to call it, a wallow. After all, if a hippo can take so much pleasure in wallowing, why should I not take a day off a month, blame pms if that helps, and just let go? As long as it doesn't last longer than a day.
4. Two new friends gave me some excellent advice the other day. "Make caring work FOR you." I am learning to do that.
5. I have good friends. Really good friends. Thank you.
6. I've learnt to be grateful.
7. I have choices. If I don't like a placement, I can choose to leave. 
8. I am free. Freer than I have ever been.
9. Discovering new interests and passions, things I didn't have time to consider in my old life.
10. An appreciation and respect for time. It passes. Use it well. 

I am happy. Momentary irritations, lack of sleep, missing friends and family, yes those are hard but on the whole, this is worth it and I am happy that I made this choice. 

For now.

Your stories

What have you learnt about yourself? What helps you to keep going? Is it worth it for you?

GUEST POST: My Camino, by Ingrid van den Hoek

My Camino de Compostella

 Ingrid van den Hoek

July and September 2012

Camino Primitivo

Camino Finesterre

Camino Portuguese

Arriving in Santiago you queue at the Pilgrims office to receive the well deserved Compostella. 

3 Questions are asked.

Did you walk for 1. Religious  2. Spiritual or 3. Historical reasons?

My response? ‘All 3 and many more reasons.’

The official just smiled – probably heard this before. (Watch the movie ‘The Way’ and listen to the response of the 4 Peregrino’s at this same office – very interesting.)

Why did I go all the way to Spain and Portugal to walk 700 km?  It has been a dream for many years. I love the mountains, hiking, exploring new places and meeting people.  Having a limited budget, the Camino is an ideal way to spend a holiday. (our budget was €15 per day).

Yes, it becomes a spiritual and a religious journey, you can’t help being touched by what the Camino has to offer – walk in the footsteps of many other Pilgrims.  (Interesting articles on how the Camino de Compostella originated, can be found on the internet and worth reading before you start your walk.)

I walked with a friend from South Africa for 3 weeks – she was then 72 years old - covering 450 km. Starting in Oviedo and finishing in Muxia.

Why the Camino Primitivo and not the Camino France – a far more popular walk?

 We are both members of the mountain club, love mountainous and more remote areas and also wanted more of a challange– the Primitivo has all this to offer. The route is more up and down, but not that extreme. Anybody with reasonable fitness can attempt to walk this one.

www. Gronze.com gives you all the information you need including all the elevations of each stage.

The Albergues are much smaller and there is no rush to get from the one to the next. We even had some Albergues all to our self. This does not apply to the Albergues from Melide to Santiago. Here you meet the peregrino’s from the Camino Frances and some sleep up to 160 people. Then you walk like mad to get to albergue when it opens to claim a bed! If it is full, just walk another 15-20km to the next albergue!!!

What made me happy? Life was simple. You don’t worry about anything.  (unless you have blisters!). All you have to do is walk; follow yellow arrows; find food; admire the environment; chat to fellow walkers on route; see where you can find the cheapest vino rouge or beer and chill at the albergue. Here you will do some washing, attend to your feet, maybe explore the little village, take lots of pictures and go to bed early (with earplugs!)

There is no rush to leave in the morning – some do leave at the crack of dawn, but we took our time and still got to the next place in time.

It took us 2 weeks to get to Santiago – loved every step of the way.  We spend the weekend there (I don’t want to give away the ‘secret’ of Santiago - experience the gem yourself) and decided that this was not the end for us. We walked to Finesterre – another 100km’s.

Completely different terrain...more coastal and absolutely beautiful. Some days rather long, but you can find a private albergue if you feel you had enough. We did that once because of the heat and did not feel like another 12 km’s in the baking sun.

Finesterre – finish earth – end of the world, is the meaning of the word. 

It is a beautiful town and has a very special meaning for all the pilgrims. We walked to the light house and decided to have our picnic lunch down on the rocks. After a rather steep climb down, we could put our feet in the water and enjoy the peacefulness of the area. To think this is what the pilgrims did 1000 years ago!(they also burned their clothes and it was a real cleansing ritual.)

My friend and I felt that we did not want to end our Camino here...it just did not feel right. (don’t ask me why, but it did  not!)

Fortunately we had the time to walk another 30 km to Muxia, also a coastal town. This was the best decision we could have made. It offered everything we were looking for and more!

As in the movie ‘The Way’ we ended our Camino here.  ( I am pleased I only saw the movie after walking the Camino)

Muxia was The Grand Finale! Both of us very pleased as we received our 3^rd Compostella!

I can write a book on what I have experienced, but everybody has to make the Camino his/her own.  It was an emotional trip for me personally as I had to work through a lot of stuff that happened in my life at the time. I came home feeling strong/ready to tackle life again and the biggest thing you learn is to stop SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF....

So if you have 2 feet, a sense of adventure, needs to get away from it all....why wait?

Ingrid

Ps. I walked the Camino Portuguese in September – all on my own and loved every step of the way. (Up to a point!)

The route was probably easier than the Primitivo, but more tar and cobblestone roads and more pilgrims. The albergues were in bigger towns, busy and they got terribly full at night. I did not enjoy the masses that much, got a bit grumpy and decided in Ponteverda to make a U turn and walk/bus/train back to Porto.  The best decision I could have made! I had the most wonderful time exploring towns I skipped and this gave me the time to spend a weekend in the most amazing city...PORTO.

Barcelona

Earlier this year, I visited Barcelona for a few days. It turns out that I am not a fan of tourist spots. Who knew.

My top 5 things:

1. The beaches. Reminding me of Cape Town. Just don't buy a cocktail from the guy with the cooler box - the Americans next to us fell for that one!
2. Wandering along the back roads of La Rambla. So much to see and hear.
3. Tapas and Sangria at out of the way, vibey spots.
4. The very generous servings, whether it is a goldfish bowl of beer, or a tumbler full of whisky...
5. Street music. Around every corner. A constant party.

Goldfish bowl of beer

Walking on the beach at night

Health juice. Nah, who am I kidding? Best sangrias!

... and some tapas to help them down.

As close to a tourist spot as I got. The rows of buses sent me packing.

Weird architecture of a different sort. Fairground attraction.

This was a good sangria spot on the beach

Reminding me of Cape Town...

Spectacular

... and imaginative

Who thinks these up?

Almost too pretty to eat

... but plenty to go around....

.... and such variety!

Love and the live-in carer

Love and the live-in carer. Possible?

Where would we find the time, energy, inclination, for a relationship of any sort? Where would we even find a possible candidate? Yes, some carers are married, some have left their husbands back in South Africa, Spain, New Zealand, oh and there's a wife back in Cape Town bringing up the young son while her hubby cares for six months at a time here in the UK.

But for the rest of us, many of whom are doing this work to escape (or recover from) a life of relative difficulty back home, is there room for love? Are any of us even looking? Or are we just trying to get through each assignment unscathed, so that we can enjoy the short holiday at the end of the shift, rather than hiding in a hole trying to recover from another death/stroke/cancer victim's pain?

If a carer who yearns to travel craves spontaneity, adventure, new places, and is prepared to give up everything she knows to make these travels possible, surely, surely, she can see love as an adventure too? Face it head on? Grab a moment?

Allow me to tell you a story about love in the life of this live-in carer. Yes, we will call it love. Because suddenly life feels too short to be holding back. To be hiding behind barriers. To be playing it safe.

It is possible. And the difference is, it doesn't need to last forever; it can be a moment in time. Just long enough to remind me that there are good, decent men out there. And allow me to embrace the feeling of safety, of being cared for, of being valued and admired. Someone who can balance out the rollercoaster ride of palliative care, death, suffering, bereavement, picking up the pieces of a lost spouse left behind.

As for where, well how about a chance encounter at a coffee shop on a rainy day? It could happen anywhere. It's what we do with these connections that can change our lives. This time, it was a case of realising that as this lifestyle does not often allow for meeting new people, when there is an offer of a connection, we should take it.

Let's say that we will be separated by 5,500 miles for a full year after what adds up to, over a length of time, just ten nights together. Ten incredible nights, filled with music, fireworks, thunderstorms, talking as if we've known each other all our lives. A connection that neither of us has felt before. A "secret link that people spend a lifetime looking for" as he puts it. Isn't that worth the lowering of the barriers, the risk of hurt, the pain of a goodbye?

Or would it have been better for us both to walk away that first day?

I am hoping that it was worth it. We say goodbye tomorrow. For the last time. Although we plan to stay in touch. And we have a date set for twelve months time.

I am dreading the goodbye, but am so grateful for the time we've had. He has changed my life. Reminded me of who I was before I picked up this anonymous label of "carer". Makes me want to rekindle the person who has been lost and buried during this past year. He has inspired in me the simple (forgotten) art of shopping for pretty clothes and shoes, and I now have the urge to wear them rather than the sensible shapeless practical outfits that get packed and unpacked from the suitcase week after week, month after month. I want to be the real me again. He's helped me to find her.

Says I've made him a better man. That he admires me, I'm his hero. Wouldn't any of us find that flattering?

We will never forget each other. And maybe "love" is too strong a word. Whatever label we put on it, it's been good.

Love or not, whether I miss him hopelessly or not, there is always another holiday to look forward to. More adventures to be had. And one thing I've learnt during this journey? I am no longer frightened of falling in love. However, I may be looking for an alternative line of work.

Your experiences:
What stories do you have on finding love and friends as a live in carer?

Do you find yourself letting yourself go? Not putting as much effort into your appearance as you did in your old life? Do you still wear makeup, even if the only person you will see all day is a 90 year old nearly blind lady? Are you eating and exercising properly?

How do you keep a hold of the person you once were?

I'd love to hear your experiences and share them here.

 I think this is leading to a whole new story....

It's the small things

On the one hand, you'll find that live-in carers are strong, independent women.

We are survivors.

We do what it takes to make our lives work for us.







On the other hand, hell it would be good to have a bit of spoiling. Some self-indulgence.

5 things I do to perk up my day:

1. Read for half an hour on a bench under a tree
2. Have a real conversation with a good friend, a son, or my Mum
3. Go for a walk (or some retail therapy if it is raining)
4. Put on make up if the boiler/alarm/ANY service is due (don't judge me, any visitor to the house is worth the effort!)
5. Take lots of deep breaths and remind myself that I am doing this for a reason, and nothing is forever.

What do YOU do to make your day just that little bit better?

Carer's survival kit

Good for those days when it all just feels so... so.... well not very good.

Chocolate treat for wellbeing

Allsorts for variety

Health bars to make up for the wellbeing and variety

Headphones for surreptitious listening to music while nobody is looking....

What is your favourite treat?

GUEST POST: Lorraine

Dear Margi,

I went on the Care to Travel Facebook page and noticed your blog. Started to read it and felt most depressed.

I hear your sentiments, understand your frustrations...... Because your voice is my voice.

Selling your house - that was letting go of the one thing you had that belonged to you, a foundation, a root, like a plant; once you pull it out it dies and that is how I feel, dead.

I sympathise, I understand the loneliness. I respect the vulnerable side of the elderly, but does that mean I must die inside to give further life.

The more I think on this the more I realise it's not the job, it's living their life, it's giving of yourself and losing who you are. Where we give hope and enlightenment, we lose who we were once upon a time.

My self identity seems to have got lost in transit

It's finding that happy medium

It's making sure that our lives do not sail away, where one day we awake to find we need a Carer, so in actual fact our life just carries on from where it left off... With a client

In life we have got to learn we were all put on this earth for a reason. We all have a certain time given to us. They have had their time, do we have to throw away ours?

That is how I am starting to look at what I am doing , and right at this moment, I do not believe this was the life carved out for me!

We all need a foundation, we all need roots, we all need to embrace life, and not death that will come one day and maybe sooner than we expect.

Care life can be rewarding but we must not become a prisoner of our own emotions.

Thank you to Lorraine for this response to my "Independent and free, or homeless" post. It does help to know that we all have our ups and downs and doubts about our current way of life.

Independent and free, or homeless?

Sometimes, I really miss having a home. Is that a common thing for live in carers? I will be meeting up with some colleagues next week so will ask the question!                                                                                                                        I thought I was going to be free, having fun, the eternal traveller, but it sometimes seems that all I am doing is trying earn enough to take short vacations, and I never make it home. I sold my house back in Cape Town last month. It has just hit me. The finality of it. The place I raised my children, where most of my memories were made.                                                                                                                                So the obvious solution would be to make some more memories. Starting on Wednesday... with two weeks off to play....

Cambridge. A city of romance, art, history, books...

... and lots and lots of bicycles.

The colleges are impressive 

I made some new friends....

St John's College - I got the guided tour, courtesy of a real "Johnian"

A real feeling of the past

Bridge of Sighs. Look familiar? Think: The Theory of Everything.

Now this bin used to have arms, and a guitar, and it sang...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Db8DpIlgcg

City of romance

... and interesting places

next time!

... and sunsets

A moment to absorb it all

“You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with”. Jim Rohn

That said, I spend my time with a 99 year old lady with severe dementia. All of my time.  Constantly. Each shift being three to five weeks long. 

How many people am I the average of now?

From one minute to the next, I don't know what I am going to be met with. Who am I? Her sister? A long lost friend? A stranger?

Where am I?

What story am I walking in to? 

Does she eat porridge today, or does she despise it, as was the case yesterday? Will she take her medicine? Or spit it out? Or politely refuse it, with all the charm and grace of the Queen Mother?

Will she be happy to see me? "Oh, my darling, how lovely of you to visit. Will you be staying long?"

Or will I be in the way? "Stop it! You are always interfering when I need to discipline this boy! Get out!"

How many plates will she break today? Will her tea end up splashed over the wall as she tries to fend off a threatening stranger (or the little boy who teases her?)

When she calls for her mother, is it because they are rushing to catch the midnight train? Or looking for her sister? Or is she simply wanting to die?

Will she allow the assisting carer in today? Or will she send her packing, with a "and don't you come back here, you are not wanted!"? Leaving me with a bedridden old lady to spend the night in tea-stained pyjamas and a wet diaper? And the fourteen hours of complaints that will follow before the next carer arrives, at 8am the following day?

Why do I do this? Who is it helping? Does the old lady even know that she is in her own home? "I just want to go home to my dog and my mother" is the plaintive cry I hear at least once a day.

Is it helping her family? Who visit once a month for two days, work permitting? Do they feel less guilty for leaving her, knowing that she is at home with a live in carer, and not in an institution? 

I wish I knew the answers.

What I do know is this. As I opened her curtains this morning, she reached her arms out to me, told me how much she loves me, wishes we could spend just one more night together as if I was a soon-to-be-gone lover, and my heart broke. With love for this poor old lady who retains all the vibrancy of youth. With sadness, knowing that one morning she will not wake up. With despair, because I don't know if I can carry on with this lifestyle for much longer. But for as long as I can, I will strive to make her last days, months, years at this rate, as good as I can for her.

A small town called Chieveley - Autumn walking

Chieveley, Newbury. My smallest town so far. A newsagent with a post office counter, a pub, and a church. And miles and miles of beautiful farmland, made for walking.
I was averaging 5 - 10km a day here. What is that in miles?
May I present Chieveley in October:

A rose outside my bedroom window.
My first view of every day.

The first of hundreds of pics taken while walking.
I love paths that disappear into the distance,
 reflected in the clouds.

How NOT to shoot a delicious mixed seafood platter.
Battered fish taking on a new meaning.
Lunch for two at The Crab
http://www.crabatchieveley.com/

I nearly turned back here. This was pre-boot days.

Never know what is around the corner.
In this case, a bridge over a busy road!

Gravestones in Autumn

Never know who you will meet when walking
in the country

Colourful birdlife outside the kitchen window

The beginning of another long walk

Pathways...

Go round yet another corner, and find eggs for sale,
and some llamas!

Bridge - fields behind me, woods ahead.

The gate at the end of the bridge

Through the gate, and into a magical fairy land

Friendly little robin came to say hi to me.

One of the walking trails I found after crossing a field