Because They're Worth It

I had a slightly surreal day yesterday.

Firstly I visited a friend’s elderly mother in the same hospital ward my Mum was in last year.  Bad memories came flooding back as I once again saw the good, the bad and the ugly of the NHS, the hideousness of growing old and the way some members of the caring profession choose to treat the elderly.

From there I took my mum to say goodbye to her hairdresser of forty-five years - the end of an era as she retires.

Picture this … a tiny, slightly tired and dated hair salon which caters to the blue rinse and curly perm brigade - to the ladies of a certain age who like to be coiffed to within an inch of their lives and then attacked with a full tin of hairspray to keep their set in place for the week ahead.  A place where equally tiny and tired great grandmothers go to have their morale boosted as they are made to feel glam again.

As I sat, sipping my dry sherry in a 1920’s glass, I witnessed another side of caring.  My mother’s hairdresser is 72, sprightly and finishing a job she clearly adored.  She treated every lady with the same love and compassion.  As did the lovely and incredibly camp 60 year old shampooist as he shimmied and sashayed his way around the rollers and the 1950’s driers, a camouflaged man bag strapped diagonally across his chest.

I watched them manoeuvre a client of approximately 110 (!) in her wheelchair to the sink and then to the mirror to set her approximately 3 (!) yellow hairs on her head as her orange make-up and clogged mascara dripped down her tiny bird-like face.  They joked with her as her husband (also 110!) sat beside her wearing his wife’s string of pearls around his grubby blazer to keep them safe.  She giggled at their banter like a little girl, her voice sounding like she’d sucked all the helium out of a Minnie Mouse balloon.  She was being made to feel important, fussed over and, in her eyes, she would leave that salon looking like Marilyn Monroe.

I could have sat and watched forever.  She was clearly once a young vibrant woman, attractive in her day, and I began to weave stories of her past life in my head.

But it was the joy of watching people who care so much about what they do and the people they do it for.

I left the salon feeling saddened that my mother has had to say goodbye to her weekly confidante, but buoyed by seeing people doing a job they truly love.

Getting old is a horrible thing but, if we’re fortunate enough, we all go through it.  The nursing staff who don’t do their jobs with love in their hearts would do well to remember that and to take a leaf out of my mother’s hairdresser’s book.  OK, wiping bottoms isn’t as glamorous as titivating someone’s hair but it was the job they chose.

Happy 2015 to all those who care - and to those who don’t, your time will come.

Happy Mother's Day

What does your mum mean to you?

Mine is now 87 and she means the world to me.  Yes, she sometimes drives me up the wall - and I return the compliment!  It’s a generational thing and we wouldn’t be normal if we saw eye to eye all of the time.  I don’t always agree with my teen either - that’s life.

But for the main part, my mum is my rock and I am hers.  I’m there for her in the same way that I know she’s always there for me - that’s what a mother/daughter relationship is all about, isn’t it?

Very rarely is there a day that I don’t see her - since recovering from her broken pelvis she has become less independent and, I won’t deny, this can be tiring and limiting.  Even when I had flu a couple of weeks ago, I dragged myself (in my PJ’s!) to spend a couple of hours with her in the afternoon.  She craves company - I believe it keeps her young and without it she would have aged more quickly.

I owe it to her.  She looked after me, now it’s my turn.

She won’t be here forever and that saddens me.  I couldn’t have asked for a better mum and I don’t need Mother's Day to make me aware of that.

Celebrate your mum every day - you wouldn’t be here without her!

Caring with love ...

I'm talking carers and caring this week.

An article recently appeared in The Independent stating:

'Disabled people are being forced to choose between having a drink or going to the toilet during “flying care visits” which last only 15 minutes and are increasingly being used by cash-strapped councils struggling to cope with rising demands on the social care system'

And people ask me why my mother doesn't have carers?  Why it's left up to me?

I'm currently sleeping on a mattress on the floor next to my mum while she recovers from a broken pelvis.  I'm there for every nurse's appointment, physio and occupational therapy.  Why?  Because she's hard of hearing and, more often than not, these people (often with very thick accents) make no attempt to speak slowly and clearly in a way she can understand.  She's not stupid, she doesn't have dementia - she simply struggles to hear. 

Do I really want to leave my mum to be rushed and bewildered with a complete stranger first thing in the morning and last thing at night when she feels at her most vulnerable? Answers on a postcard. 

Incidentally, I have also been appalled by the way nurses and doctors in the hospital my mother stayed in dealt with her hearing difficulties.  Nobody seems to have the proper training to raise the level of their voice without screeching AND to look directly at the person.  The audiologist (on our little day trip to get her ears checked for wax) was so softly spoken, I could barely hear him and he spoke to my mum with his back to her.  Please!  A little common sense is all it takes - and it's your job.

But I digress.  FIFTEEN minutes to get an elderly or disabled person up, on and off the loo (or possibly empty and clean a commode), washed, dressed and fed!  This is beyond a joke.  The infirm do not need to be rushed or made to feel that they are working against the clock.  For some, this may be their only contact during a long day and it matters.  It also matters that they feel safe, supported and cared for.  It's in the title!  'Carers'.

It's currently taking me TWO HOURS to complete all of the above with my mum.  Two very long hours but I'm going at her pace and keeping her happy.  I'm not for one minute suggesting that all home visits should be this long but fifteen minutes is laughable.

I pity those who are being subjected to this nightmare.  I have no idea what the answer is but something really needs to be done.

Being a carer is the toughest thing I've ever done in my life.  It's relentless and I have to constantly remind myself to be patient and calm - this is for my own mother who I love with all my heart.  She didn't ask to be in this position - neither did those who are subjected to carers. 

I'll carry on because I have no choice, and on the days that I lay down and cry with exhaustion I remind myself that no one will overlook my mum's physical and mental needs by a fifteen minute flying visit.

She's worth more than that.

The Love/Hate Thing

I LOVE being a writer.  On any given day, I can become new characters with their own thoughts, lives, histories and problems.  It's like being a little girl playing dress-up all over again.  Or an actress, as I used to be. When I open up that Word document, I take control of the stage and my audience.

Yes, that creativity had to come out somehow.  And thank goodness I found a way that works for me.

So, what are the bonuses?  What makes my little author's heart beat the fastest?

1.  When I have that first exciting seed of an idea and it suddenly grows arms and legs faster than I can type or scribble my notes.

2.  Checking my sales figures on a day when I can put two fingers up to the publishing houses who were considering me and then changed their minds.

3.  When my husband reads what I've written for the day and looks at me with a smile and a nod, saying, 'I really want to know what happens next.'

4.  To have been able to be there for my son (when he's needed me - now, not at all!) and my lovely mum.  I am my own boss - I can make up time as and when I need to.  Juggling as 'The Sandwich Mum' has become my special talent.

5.  Looking at hunky guys on the web for 'research'.  We all want to have a clear image of the love interest, don't we?  It's a tough job but I hope my books are better for it.  (My excuse and I'm sticking to it).

6.  The thrill of having someone who didn't even know of my existence until a couple years ago, asking me when my next book is due out and telling me that they can't wait.

7.  Those reviews that bring a tear to my eye and make me realise that someone 'got' exactly what I was trying to say with my words.

8.  Getting up in the morning and knowing precisely where my characters are planning on taking me.  (Though sometimes cursing when life throws a curve ball at me - because 'you're not in an office so you don't really work, do you?')

9.  Having friends introduce me as 'a writer' - I still feel a fraud but, hey, why should I?   This is how I earn my money.

10.  Typing THE END.  And then the buzz I get knowing that I'll soon be typing 'CHAPTER ONE' again.

BUT ...  there is a flip side to every coin.  What do I hate?

1.  The days that I spend forever either staring at a blank screen or a boiling kettle as I drink endless cups of unwanted coffee because my characters seem to have gone AWOL.  I refuse to call it writers' block - the ONLY time I have that is when I'm waking up to the idea that I'm writing the wrong book.

2.  A bad review - thankfully I've not had to weather too many but, ouch, they hurt!  Thank you for taking the time to tell me that my baby is ugly, dear reader, I hope you always feel guilty when you indulge in your secret pleasure.

3.  Editing.  Don't get me started.  Regular readers will know - it's a time of great stress and exhaustion in the Misfit household.  If I never had to edit another book with husband again, I'd ... oh, I don't know, I'd run naked around the neighbourhood singing a 'Radiohead' song with a feather in my cap.

4.  Promoting.  Again, you all know why.  I JUST WANT TO WRITE!  If a character is calling, I don't want to have to put them to bed so that I can look at new ways of selling myself.  I'm a writer not a hooker.

5.  The fact that Indies are, generally, still not considered to be real writers.  And the attitude of some  traditionally published authors.  Get over yourselves!

6.  Knowing that I only have a window of a couple of hours before either chauffeuring, shopping or carer's duties and if I don't get all my thoughts down then, I'll be stuffed.  On days like that, I'd like to put my brain, or other people, into 'freeze mode'.

7.  Getting HALF WAY through a manuscript (about 40K words) and realising that I've fallen out of love with it.  The chances are, the feeling will have been creeping for a while but I've chosen to ignore it (a bit like when a relationship sours with a dodgy boyfriend).  I now have several hidden in a drawer - (books, not men - that would an arrestable offense and just a tad odd) but, the good news is, there have been characters within those rejects with such strong voices, they've either emerged in other books or are waiting in the wings for the next. 

8.  When I wake up in the middle of the night with THE BEST plot twist and I'm too lazy to turn over and write it down.  I can guarantee that it won't come back to me until about four the next afternoon.

9.  Always wondering if it's time to approach agents again.  With my 'stable' of books and my rather lovely reviews, am I doing myself a disservice by continuing to struggle as an Indie?  Is it time for me to have my faith in the profession restored?

10.  The first few weeks after releasing a new book and wondering if even my most loyal readers will hate it.  I can take the bad reviews from a one-off reader but if a 'regular' came back and said I'd lost the Egan Spark, I might lose the will to live.

So, that's it!  As a reader, I hope I gave you a bit of insight as to what goes on in a writer's head.  And to all you writers out there  - do you agree?  Tell me your thoughts, please - I'd love to know I'm not the only one who has this love/hate relationship with writing.   Oh!  And my latest novel is due for release on June 19th!  Sneak preview here.