Wild Sovereign Development Site

Tag: caring

  • house mousse

    This week I’m going home to Berlin to find an apartment of my own, via a writing sabbatical in Thailand which I suspect I will sleep through. What was supposed to be two weeks has turned into a six week endeavour. I have worked from dawn til night, busted my finger, worn myself to a shred, and these are my small victories: Dad sat up and asked if he could have a cup of tea with lemon and honey. Dad wanted to sit out on the verandah and watch the sunset. Dad went on his first outing since the hospital and scoffed fish and chips and a giant fresh iced coffee laced with cream. Mum had someone to cry to. Mum went to a really good physio to whom I practically drove her with a stick and in a single visit was able to raise her damaged arm upright, from months of being stuck at a horizontal maximum. They learned how to use their iPad. The living room looks warm and congenial and less like a hospital. The garage has been cleared out and has one of Mum’s paintings hung to greet her when she gets in, as she starts now very cautiously to drive herself about now and again. The garden is healthy and the verandah brimming with fresh plants. The cat has been taught not to wash herself when she’s on the bed, which she was raised (by me) not to do but had forgotten in the local recent spoiling. In between I have packed up 11 cartons of painstakingly sorted and delicately couched feathers, crumples of fabric and shell, shards of perfectly worn wood, and partially assembled assemblages for shipping to Berlin. I feel replete.

    This afternoon I made this for Dad, and he ate two teaspoons of it – victory! It’s velvety and rich. You can replace the honey with maple syrup if you are vegan.

    FREAKY CHOCOLATE AVOCADO MOUSSE

    1 frozen banana
    3 tbsp cacao powder
    1 refrigerated avocado
    3 tsbp cocoa powder
    2 tbsp honey, or maple syrup if you’re vegan
    1 tsp lemon juice
    1 tsp vanilla extract
    2 tbsp iced water
    A tiny pinch of salt

    INSTRUCTIONS

    Blend.

  • watching the sun set

    Mum’s just taken Dad on an outing & waving goodbye to them I began to cry. Soon it will be the long goodbye. My Dad seems so cheerful and excited, sitting up in his passenger seat having been hoisted up by two of us out of the wheeling chair. The carer said he woke up this morning saying, “I have to get up! and get dressed! because today we are going to Jacob’s Well!” I was pining to go too but there is too much intricate and painstaking one-handed assemblage packing to do, for shipping to Germany. In between packing and finger X-rays I have rejoiced in the opportunity to serve, to be here and offer freshly ground espressos and little nightly shoulder massages where my Mum has torn her ligaments by helping haul Dad in and out of chairs; last night Dad’s hand took hold of mine on the guard rail of his hired hospital bed and was making little stroking movements that suggested to me a brand new notion. “Dad, is there any part of your body which might like a massage, too?”

    “Oh,” he said, diffidently, “I suppose.”

    “Maybe your hand?” I said, turning it very gently to palpate the withered meat. When I was done with that hand, his good hand, I said, “Maybe your other hand would like a bit of a rub, too?” And when I drew the clenched stricken left hand out from under the blanket like a miracle it had relaxed in sympathy, all the fingers spread flat and the palm as large as it ever was. I massaged the sweet curling poll of his head where perhaps he has never been massaged before. Dad closed his eyes and let his face unfold. I wish I could be here forever just offering these tiny daily services, these mutual favours. It uncrumples me to relieve his suffering. It filled my heart with heat when he said, three days ago after our first outing which was also to the seaside, “Darling could I have a cup of tea with honey and lemon, please?” Two months back he had to be fed sips of water from a spoon because his swallowing was so bad. This was the first time he had asked outright for anything to eat or drink since we all thought he would die, that night in Emergency. My mother that evening fell and shattered her hip, and they were lying two beds apart in the Emergency room at the hospital. My father said that if he had a heart attack or something else like that he did not want to be revived. Now he has revived, to a certain extent, all by himself. Or, via company. The companionship of the three of us in the house with this wonderful carer who is never too tired to bring him a fresh glass of milk when he calls into the baby monitor at three a.m. has latched him back onto life. The night after the voluntary cup of tea he had a friend visit who had come all the way from Sydney just to see them. It was the first time in all Dad’s friends’ visits I have heard his voice as much as the visitors’ voices, they had a spirited chat and then as it began to grow dark we asked Dad didn’t he want to come inside in case he got cold. “No,” he said, lying on the striped foam mattress on the cane couch which came back from Indonesia when we first moved here. “I’d like to stay out here a while. I want to watch the sun set.”

  • a happy visitor

    My parents have a spare room which they have been eager to put to use as Dad’s medical expenses mount, so I offered to manage it for them as an Airbnb listing. Airbnb has been so problematic in rapidly gentrifying areas of Berlin that it’s actually been outlawed: developers were buying up whole buildings and certain streets became so filled with short term pleasure seeking tourists it was impossible for residents to find homes. However in a context like Brisbane, filled with overlarge houses where older people like my parents want to continue to live independently, it seems to me one of the best uses of the internet. Meanwhile Berliners have been making new arrivals from Syria welcome using an innovative ‘Airbnb for refugees’ set up by two local men. You can register your spare room and the government, who are not much addicted to locking up children and families offshore in tropical death camps, cover the rent so that a new family can settle in.

    This is the review left this morning by our most recent visitor, who arrived jetlagged and disoriented off an 18 hour flight from Shanghai. She is here to study for two years. I feel good to know we have welcomed someone on first arriving in a brand new country and brand new climate, and I love knowing that people can experience each other, as strangers, through this medium and can build trust. We stayed with an Egyptian family in the Bronx last October and their hospitable kindness was transformative of our visit. In this case the tiny errors in my guest’s English just make me love her the more.

    “This was the first week I came to Brisbane. I really love the house Cathoel offered. She is really a patient and warmhearted people and can offer everything I need when I live here. The room is tidy cosy and quiet which offers me a perfect circumstance to have a good rest and the Chinese decorative style impressed me a lot. The transport is convenient and easy to buy commodities nearby. All in all, it is really a wisdom choice for me to choose Cathoel’s house. Living here for a week was enjoyable experience for me.”