Story and photo by Emmjay

I caught myself today.  Caught myself self-sabotaging.

It went like this:

• Woke up at 4:40.  Head full of ideas about how to write a killer application for a job I really want to win.
• Lie there thinking because my get up time is 5:00.
• Check cats, let in George, who’s not interested in food and just wants a hello pat.
• Put on kettle for a green tea. Brew.
• Take medications.
• Decide to put off exercise for half an hour.
• Tidy up kitchen bench while tea is brewing.
• Notice motorcycle magazine – open it and read interesting stuff.
• Realise that I’m off track.

Put down mag – remembering to enter Barry Sheen race day in phone – March next year.

Take tea to office, intending to complete the killer job application.

Desk is a mess and my new daily routine note is in there somewhere.  I need it so I go looking for that paper.  An identical one has a few notes I made to help FM out with a proposal for a project.

I reckon it’s a really good piece of thinking – re-usable, but I want to throw it out as part of cleaning up the messy desk.  I decide to type it into my computer and use it as a template.

I turn on the computer.  It opens up Email – major distraction – I notice new Email from FM forwarding the picture of the first snow from Linda and Steve in Scotland.  Under that’s a picture Email from Eastern Markets of Elena Dawson’s new collection – a favourite.

I realise that I’m off track again and decide to return to clean up the desk – and want to shut down the PC but I’ve also bought a new CD from the kitchen bench clean up, which is a calming and gentle piece of guitar and violin music-perfect for desk cleaning, so I can’t shut down the PC just yet and anyway, I’ll need it in a minute or two to complete the killer job application.

Then I realise just how random my morning has been so far and it’s only 5:30, so I decide to write all this mess down.

It’s 5:50 now and I’m hoping that the medications cut in soon, because I’ve started to yawn and I’m uncertain about what to do next.  I think I’ll put the CD on quietly to avoid waking FM, and return to the desk clean up to find my schedule, but I think I heard the cats meowing and that means that I need to feed them to get them to shut up.  So I might as well feed the dog and the fish and the tadpoles at the same time.

Then I remember that the fish food is running out and make a mental note to pick some up on the way to the poetry bash at the Basement this afternoon.  Malcolm Turnbull is supposed to do a reading.  That should be interesting.  Then I recall my conversation with FM about whether all this sweetness and light around Turnbull is publicity for a forthcoming Liberal Party leadership spill.

It’s 6:00 now – I’d better feed the animals.  The first flight of the day rips past the front of the house.

I feed the animals, and as I’m in the kitchen and there’s a fair bit of ironing, I decide to do some to keep the pile under control and Tim the Cabin Boy is coming home early today. So less clutter is good and then I’m reminded that we have to rescue his school clothes from his wardrobe in case the renovations have gotten dust in there.

While ironing, I start to fee a bit hungry, so I decide to make some toast.  But the chopping board needs a clean and while I do that I’d better hand wash the cut glass tumblers.

I do that, put the bread in the toaster and think that I’d like some juice too and I go to the fridge.  While I’m doing that, I get out the vitamins.  The toast is ready and I pour a drink quickly because I don’t want the toast to get cold – or the juice to get warm.

Right.  Ready for breakfast.  I might as well read yesterday’s paper on the iPad while I eat.  I become engrossed in the paper and I notice that an hour and a half have gone by.  It’s time to get FM a cup of tea.  I wonder whether she might want a piece of toast or whether the big bread hit might make her feel uncomfortable.  Maybe she might prefer muesli- in which case I need to cut up some fruit.  While doing that I should cut some for the birds and feed them too.

But maybe FM might prefer some eggs.  I decide to just do tea and ask her.  But since I have the fruit out, I decide to try and fit in a bird feed while the jug boils for the tea.  By this time I think a cup of coffee for me is in order and I put on the espresso machine to warm up, make FM’s tea and take it upstairs.

I hope she’s had a good night and is feeling OK.  She IS!  And she’s keen to go to the beach for a swim.

I start to change into my swimmers and pack the towels and other stuff.

Exercise is good for me too and she really wants me to come with her.  But the beach trip is a 2 hour event minimum, or more if we have coffee in a favourite cafe after the exercise.  So there’s a conflict in my mind.  I need the exercise, but I have so much more to do.  And there’s a complication.  The weather has started to turn and it looks like it might rain.  We’re not sure whether we should go.

Maybe we should just walk the dog instead.  So we change back into not beach clothes.  FM notices that the dog has a problem with her ears.  This is not uncommon.  Maybe a bit of ear mite.  FM gets out the treatment and notices that the rinse and bug killer is pretty old.  So I phone the vet, who’s surgery is on the way of the planned walk but the vet is not yet open, so FM treats the dog’s ears anyway.  We’ll call again later.

Figuring that the dog should probably take it easy today, we decide to not take her for a walk.

I want to visit my Mom in the nursing home and I usually buy her some flowers on the way and also get some for FM.  We decide to go our separate ways.  I have lots of time and FM will go and see the sale at Paddington and I will head off out west to Hammondville.

But FM hasn’t had breakfast and I haven’t had coffee so we decide to drop into our friends’ cafe – Silverbean in Enmore.  We enjoy a muffin and coffee and FM drops me at home.

She reminds me that Tim the Cabin Boy is coming home tomorrow and we need to vacuum the builder’s dust so Tim won’t walk it through the whole house.  I also need to tidy up the front bedroom so he has somewhere to sleep while the ceiling is out of his room.

I have lots of time and I get stuck into this work and make serious progress.  FM who has returned from Paddington interrupts me.  Two hours have passed by, but the job’s done.  She’s impressed.

Shower, change, collect Mom’s perfume (I always try to remember to take it and put a little on her wrists each time I visit).  She used to love French perfume, but when I left it in her room, it disappeared – twice, so it has to live at our place.

I drive to the start of the M5, but there’s a long line of traffic at the entrance, so I cut out and go through Bardwell Park and get back onto the motorway after the tunnel.  There’s a lot of traffic, but it’s moving well.  I pull into the small village shops at Hammondville to buy Mom’s flowers and order some for FM to pick up on the way home.  It’s stinking hot and humid and flowers wouldn’t survive waiting in a hot car while I see Mom.

When I get to the nursing home, Mom’s sleeping in her reclining chair and although the carers say that I should wake her, because she gets a huge amount of sleep anyway and I’ve come so far, I hate to do that, mainly because I struggle with the reality that it’s nearly impossible to communicate with her.  She has a few words, and seems to hear me, but she speaks so softly and in such tiny fragments that I often cannot understand – then she drifts off, motionless and stares into the middle distance.

I decide to wait and take a break.  I go across the road to the local cafe and have my second cup of coffee and a slice of banana bread by way of lunch.  I go back to the nursing home and decide to just put a little perfume on Mom’s neck while she sleeps, but she wakes up and takes some time to figure out what’s going on.  She still recognises me, I think, but she doesn’t speak.

I stroke her hair and hold her hand.  She can’t move much – part of the dementia is that her brain cannot control the muscles and they tend to contract, so she adopts a pose that reminds me of the foetal position.  Ironic, isn’t it.  That’s how we start and that’s how we finish – folded up like origami.

About an hour of idle chat – me putting my ear close to her mouth to catch her standard questions about whether she’s well, whether I’m well, where she is, what’s she doing here, when can she go home… and around and around and around.

I always make some lame excuse that it’s time to leave to do the shopping for the week or whatever.

I discover that I do not have the car keys in my pocket.  Have I dropped them in the nursing home ? Maybe they’re in the car ignition still.  No.  Well, that leaves the cafe.  It’s afternoon now and they shut early.  Rush over.  “Are these your keys, mate ?” Thankfully they are.

I always phone FM as I’m leaving the nursing home.  I check the phone and she’s tried to call me a couple of times, but I missed the calls.   I usually feel pretty sad after visiting Mom and FM is a great support.  She doesn’t answer.  It goes to voicemail.

I drive home on Canterbury road because the motorway was a parking lot going into the city.  If anything Canterbury road is even more depressing than Parramatta road.

When I get home, FM is excited about the new Paris fashions in the Paddington sale.

It’s still incredibly hot and humid.  She suggests a cool shower and a change.

And she gives me a cuddle.

We go off to Leichhardt, and enjoy a lovely light meal and a glass of wine at Tuscany.  The waiters know us and are always funny and kind.

We do the grocery shopping, drop off at Gelatissimo on the way home, unload the car and unpack the groceries, watch a little TV and crash out.

The next morning it starts all over.  The front end of the day looks like Ground Hog Day again.

Now it’s 7:15 and I’m back at my cluttered desk.  The green tea has run out.  I haven’t put the music CD on yet and I still haven’t found my written down schedule that’s supposed to help me put some structure into my day.

I edit this piece again.

… and around and around and around ….. And now it’s 8:15.  Up for three hours and nothing’s done …

This story is about adult AD/HD.  It is a very real mental condition that makes day-to-day life a lot more difficult than it is for neurotypical (normal) people.  AD/HD can be a schooling nightmare,  a career wrecker,  a personal finance destroyer, a marriage wrecker and often has strong links to depression.

AD/HD can often be eased with the right treatment (usually counselling therapy, behavioural modification  – especially developing practices like making and using lists –  and sometimes medication can help). 

The support of an understanding and loving partner is invaluable.

If this story looks a lot like your day and if that worries you, see your GP and get checked out.