A few weeks ago I volunteered. Not having a local, needy Grandmother I thought volunteering with 'Carers Resource' would like me up with a frail old person who needed support with general household tasks and an occasional trip out shopping or for coffee. Instead I meet someone not much old than me who appears well apart from the walking stick.
Deceptive. A year ago B was in fulltime work, a volunteer with the local hospital and running cub and scout packs.
The symptoms were vague and diagnosis took a while. A fall, forgetfulness, half remembering (holding a potato peeler and potato and then not knowing what to do). A bloodtest and scan revealed a brain tumour, apparently not to be called 'cancer'. This was delightfully described as a butterfly tumour, meaning speading to both sides of the brain. A can nolonger stand for any length of time. The volunteers at the hospital thought it unprofessional to sit whilst helping so B resigned. Unable to negotiate steps and stair (B's brain can't tell her legs to lift her feet high enough) access to certain areas is nolonger possible.
Despite these limitations B seems determined to make the most of life. Between visits to the hospital for tests, scans and treatment there are more rewarding and enjoyable things to do. Over coffee we discussed the options. Volunteering at a charity shop was teh top of the list. Able to sort, rearrange stock and mend clothes would keep B happy.
Consequently, I'm voluteering for 2 organisations. Supporting B whilst she carries out her Oxfam shop work and working alongside her at Oxfam.
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
Sunday, 23 September 2012
intro
Who am I? I'd like to think I'm an independent woman, healthy, in fulltime work who has interests, a son, partner, step sons, friends and family.
I could also be a frustrated housewife , mother and worker. Sick of waiting for A N Other to do the cooking, cleaning, fridge defrosting, sheet changing and phoning for an electrician.
Well, I read Oliver Burkman's 'The Antidote' and it's given me a different perspective on life.
No motivation, positive thinking or waiting for inspiration. I just get on and do it. The achievement, no matter how small makes me feel better. Also, if I lived on my own I'd have to do all the above chores anyway.
I can also escape mentally and physically when I go running in the local hills. My mid filters and rationalises. I can fantasise about the life I think would be ideal, plan new beginnings and drastic, selfish life changes.
Yesterday on my run I thought about smelling salts. This I think, was triggered by a FB post about Grandma's record collection and 'Bell Bottom Blues'. The smelling salts were kept in the huge, floor to ceiling cupboard on the left of the chimney breast. Shelves so deep that small arms couldn't reach the back. To get to the smelling salts a settee arm had to be climbed on and various odds and ends, bottles and crockery had to reached over.
The bottle was about one and a half inches (this was the 60's) high and half a inch wide with a screw top. It contained turquoise blue crystals. Beautiful to look at.
Four sisters ranging from 5 to 10 years were not averse to playing tricks on each other. The meaner the better. There was a reason for the salts being almost hidden. The satisfaction of wafting the open bottle under a sister's nose was well worth the risk of being caught balancing on the arm of the settee
I could also be a frustrated housewife , mother and worker. Sick of waiting for A N Other to do the cooking, cleaning, fridge defrosting, sheet changing and phoning for an electrician.
Well, I read Oliver Burkman's 'The Antidote' and it's given me a different perspective on life.
No motivation, positive thinking or waiting for inspiration. I just get on and do it. The achievement, no matter how small makes me feel better. Also, if I lived on my own I'd have to do all the above chores anyway.
I can also escape mentally and physically when I go running in the local hills. My mid filters and rationalises. I can fantasise about the life I think would be ideal, plan new beginnings and drastic, selfish life changes.
Yesterday on my run I thought about smelling salts. This I think, was triggered by a FB post about Grandma's record collection and 'Bell Bottom Blues'. The smelling salts were kept in the huge, floor to ceiling cupboard on the left of the chimney breast. Shelves so deep that small arms couldn't reach the back. To get to the smelling salts a settee arm had to be climbed on and various odds and ends, bottles and crockery had to reached over.
The bottle was about one and a half inches (this was the 60's) high and half a inch wide with a screw top. It contained turquoise blue crystals. Beautiful to look at.
Four sisters ranging from 5 to 10 years were not averse to playing tricks on each other. The meaner the better. There was a reason for the salts being almost hidden. The satisfaction of wafting the open bottle under a sister's nose was well worth the risk of being caught balancing on the arm of the settee
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