After scraping some money together and an awful lot of planning, I managed to take a trip to NYC for my birthday. Actually stepping on that plane was something I never thought would happen. Two weeks earlier my mother’s arthritic pain had reached a new high and she was due a knee operation. To ensure she’d be safe on her own for a few days, I put certain things in place and people to call should she have problems.
For everyone who has a great, still living father, Father’s Day is an enjoyable day. For everyone else it’s filled with grief and resentment.
I fall into the latter group.
My time away from blogging has been interesting, to say the least, in both hilarious and shocking ways. After I finished painting my kitchen green, I decided to take my mother 120 miles away to visit friends and family, family she hadn’t seen in many, many years. While the trip was successful overall, there were a few mishaps.
Forms, forms and more forms. Whenever I’m filling them out either for myself or the person I care for, I feel dejected at the sight of the ‘Employment Status’ section.
Carers Week is drawing to a close and as 60% of people will become a carer at some point in their lives I thought I’d share some of the tools I use to care for my mother.
On Friday it was Loving Day, the celebration of the 1967 civil rights victory for the legalization of interracial marriage. From those unions come mixed race children. I am one of those children – the embodiment of Martin Luther King’s Dream.
With a mixed heritage comes two issues: appearance and culture, which affect one another.
It’s harder to adopt a culture if you’re not acknowledged or accepted by those who practice it.
A week ago today I voted in the UK General Election. I voted because I didn’t vote in 2010 and the next day I immediately regretted it. For some reason I believed the outcome would be different if I had my say. Last Friday I learned I was wrong. I couldn’t believe it. After scanning multiple articles published by numerous media organisations, it finally started to sink in that the Conservatives had won. Once the shock wore off, fear set in. A Conservative (Americans, read: Republican) government sans the Liberal Democrats was going to be a bloodbath for those receiving benefits, whether healthy or disabled. £12bn of welfare cuts are going to be made, but no one knows who’s going to be hit.
Pink has never been my favourite colour, even as a child. But somehow my home is slowly turning Old Rose, Rasperry Bellini, Cherry Lush and Flash Bulb Fuschia. I’ve been redecorating because I can no long stand the sight of the UK’s favourite paint colour, Magnolia. And in my quest for warm and inviting without being too dark, pink has fit that bill, over and over.
As Chast’s parents aged, she recognised the need to care for them, and she did, until they died. Graphic novel memoir Can’t We Talk about Something More Pleasant? details her uncensored journey with humour and poignancy, examining her changing relationships with them along the way.
Life has changed down a gear and, as a result, I feel lost. Ever feel like that? Since my niece was born in February I pretty much fell off the internet. Life became slower. Suddenly there weren’t dozens of appointments to go to or a pile of paperwork to get through. My mother had finally recovered from her last operation of many. Mental rehabilitation and mild physical monitoring is all that’s required, which is amazing. My mother is the most stable physically and mentally than she has been in years.