Reflecting on the Past - School and Hospitals

Going Home from School

When I was six my mum stopped collecting me from school. She had to push my younger sister in the pushchair on the two miles round trip. So she stopped doing it. My brother walked with me to school each day and when it was fine weather I walked home on my own. But when It was rainy I had to wait across the road in the junior's cloakroom for my brother for half an hour. My mum wouldn't let me go on the bus on my own. I sat on a bench, pushing the coats back to give me room. It was dark and gloomy because of the rain. I never had anything to occupy me apart from my thoughts. 

A Thre'pny Bit

We always carried a thre'pny bit each for bus fare in case we needed it. A thre'pny bit was a small, octagon shaped yellowish thick coin. It felt heavy and satisfying in the hand. We were always given a thre'pny bit each for the church collection plate. It was the value of three pennies. A penny, in those days, before the decimalization of the British currency, was a large brown thin coin. A sixpenny bit was the same size as a thre'pny but very thin and silver. 

Outside Toilets

The infant toilet block was a scary place. In the shade of the ewe trees, corrugated asbestos for walls that started at knee height and ended with a gap before the roof. No windows or electric light. Smelly and cold. A big girl, a member of the large, poor and smelly Churchill family, locked me in a cubicle one time during playtime. She must have been standing on the other side of the door. I never really wanted to go there, especially to move my bowels. They were called 'outside toilets' because they were not in a building. Across the road the juniors had toilets that were inside a building. Accessed only from the playground and no heating, but what luxury!

Moving Bowels - or Not

When I had a chronic constipation problem at age 6 I asked to go to the toilet during lessons and when I was a long time the teacher sent someone out to check if I was OK. How embarrasssing! Walking home, I would get tremendous pains in my abdomen that I would have to stop walking until the pain passed. Sometimes I would pass some faeces on the way. This was very embarrassing and I would go home and wash my knickers. I would sit on the toilet for ages in such pain, passing nothing. I'm not sure how my mum found out. It could have been because of the soiled knickers or maybe the teacher told her or maybe that I was taking up so much time in the bathroom. My mum went on about how stoical I was. Well, I think it was more to do with embarrassment than being stoical. 

My mum took me to the doctor who decided I needed an operation to widen my back passage. He showed me a long clear perspex tapered stick that he said would be placed in my anus and pushed in to widen it! But I wouldn't feel anything because I would be asleep. 

There was no talk about diet at all. Dietary fibre had probably no been discovered. Nor was the fact that a wheat and gluten intolerance could have been the cause. 

Hospital in 1960

So it was off to the hospital for me just before Christmas. Parents were not allowed to stay with their children then, so I was left on my own. I arrived the day before my operation and that night I don't remember sleeping at all. I was told I must have slept, but I do remember the ward was a busy place all night and I don't remember waking up. The nurses opened the curtains in the morning and a lady came along pushing a trolly giving each child their breakfast in their bed. She passed the end of my bed without stopping or acknowledging my presence. Well, I was very hungry and I started to cry. She came back and told me that I was being silly. Didn't I remember that I was to have an operation that morning, and so was not allowed to have breakfast? There was a sign on the end of my bed to tell her so. Well, of course I knew about the operation, but the missed breakfast part had passed me by, and I couldn't see the sign on the end of my bed!  

There was a girl in the ward with a broken limb. She told me she often broke something because she liked being in hospital. I thought this was very odd. Now I think it was likely that the hospital felt a safer place to her than her possibly abusive home. 

Visiting - or Not

I remember there was a visiting time when I had no visitors. It was horrible. I watched all the other children being fussed over by their families. A nurse came and talked to me for a bit but it didn't really help. My mother swears that she came every visiting time. I decided then that I would not let that happen to anyone I knew. 

When I was an adult my elderly neighbour who I regularly visited, went into hospital. She had a sister and a nephew who lived quite a few miles away and they didn't plan on visiting much. So I found out when they were going and filled in the gaps. My lovely husband usually came with me even though it was really quite hard with both of us working every day. She was there over Christmas and on that day there were no set visiting times so we all ended up being at her bedside together. 

Hospital in 1980

It seems very odd today that children with broken limbs would be staying in a hospital ward. Also that anyone who was not ill would be taking up a hospital bed just to make sure they don't eat before an operation. They were still doing that when I was 24 and had all my impacted wisdom teeth out. 

My husband took me to hospital to check in. I was very anxious and felt like I was being incarcerated. I was required to undress and get into bed at 4pm! I balked at this and said I wanted to go for a walk in the grounds. I went even though the nurse was reluctant to let me, for she thought I might not come back. It was a horrible night. A fit and healthy young woman listening to ailing women calling for bed pans to no avail, and then calling out that it was too late. This was so distressing that I got up and helped an old lady to the toilet. A nurse appeared and scolded me severely because I wasn't insured should the lady fall. 

After the operation my mouth felt so dry that I called for water. The nurse (who was the mother of one of my pupils at school!) was very kind and washed my mouth with wet cotton wool. She apologised that I couldn't drink because the anaesthetic might cause me to throw up. 

That evening, my head of department at school, came to visit her mother who was in the bed opposite me. 

I was perfectly healthy when I went into hospital but felt very ill when I left. My temperature and vital signs must have been OK but I felt like I had flu. I realised later that I was having a reaction to the anaesthetic! My whole body hurt and felt very heavy. 

Years later, when I told someone that I wouldn't be able to do something after my dental appointment because I always felt ill afterwards, I found out that I had a reaction to the adrenaline in the anaesthetic (as well as wheat and gluten). 

Just Keep Swimming

After the evening when the pool was as hot as a hot bath, and not really conducive to swimming, especially after a meal, the weather has been cloudy with rain for a few days. I've managed to swim in-between the rainy periods and each time, the pool has been cooler.

In fact today it got down to a temperature where it took me a little getting used to before I immersed myself this morning! It's still not as cold as the heated indoor pools in Britain though. The water and air temperature is so cold in those places that it puts many adults off going swimming, which is very short sighted of the management in my opinion.

This morning it was difficult to get the insects and other debris out of the pool because it was distributed within the water, and not just on the surface or on the bottom. I don't do anything with the bottom stuff, but don't care to ingest insects or get them stuck in my hair. I thought this was due to the wind creating little waves, but no. It'd been cleaned! A guy who came to empty the rubbish bin (sorry - trash can) told me. I hadn't noticed, because there was still dark stuff on the bottom at the corners, but looking closely I saw the amount was less. That would explain the amount of stuff floating in the body of the water.

Yesterday we had a power cut (sorry - outage) just after 6pm. I went swimming at about 7pm and met a swearing, beer drinking, smoking guy, who decided to sit on the pool side while his dachshund ran around the edge. His intruder alarm was making a continuous din and he couldn't find the instructions to cut it off. His dog was going crazy and he was too hot.

I'm shy about showing my body in public and am so grateful that so far I've not met a soul at the pool all the time I've been going (apart from the ground maintenance guys flitting about doing their work.) So I was a little perturbed when he sat down with his cooler of beers and started talking to another guy who stopped by. I just kept swimming (like Dory). I lost count of my laps but it was probably over 40 and I got tired and had to get out. Fortunately he was on the phone at the time so he took no notice of me.

Well, today I thought I could probably do 50 laps and I did! Now, I told you that the length of this lap pool was probably longer than a normal width, but I've changed my mind. I now think it's more like a width.

Instead of counting my laps I've started dedicating each lap to a person. So now I just count up the number of people I prayed for and this is better than losing count. I wasn't sure I would remember all 50 people when I was in the pool so I made a list and kept it at one end to refer to. It worked very well. I do a violet fire mantra for each person. You can learn more about the violet fire here.

I gave myself a goal of doing 60 laps by 9th July, (which is when we're moving to another apartment) but I had my doubts that I would achieve it. Now I think I might exceed it. I have plenty more people I can add to the list, so that won't be a problem.

Looking Up

I've started swimming twice a day now.

I went at 3 pm the other day, and was outside for 30 minutes and got sunburned! So I won't be doing that again. It was cooler than normal for 3 o'clock due to the rain in the morning, but still the concrete was too hot for bare feet.

At 8 o'clock in the morning the temperature is the same as a hot summer day in Britain. Very pleasant, but the concrete is too hot for feet. I now put on sunscreen. I got a natural one from Mercola.com because the skin always absorbs whatever is put onto it, so in my opinion, if it's not safe to eat, then it's not safe to use on my skin. The sun is shining onto the pool and the sky is blue, the trees are green and the water is warm, but not hot.

At 7 o'clock in the evening, the pool is in shade, the concrete is just about OK to stand on in bare feet, and the water is warmer than the morning. So that is when I'm having my second swim of the day.

The pool is a perfect depth for me. It goes from 4 foot to 4 and-a-half-feet, so wherever I am I can easily stand. Although I can swim I do get a little nervous when I'm out of my depth. The pool is 2 lanes wide and the length is longer than a normal width, but shorter than a normal length.

I did 20 laps this evening then I floated on my back to relax and enjoy the view. A tiny white aeroplane went in one direction, whilst birds flew in al the other directions. Dragon flies also came into view and something that I haven't identified yet. It's either a large insect or a tiny bird. It goes too fast for me to see it properly. I'm hoping it's a humming bird. All this is framed in a beautiful blue sky by the green leaves of silver birch trees that are tinged with gold as they catch the last of the sun.

And then I became aware, as I gazed at the blue, of being able to see the water on my cornea. The water did not look very clean, or maybe it was the chemicals in it. If you've ever seen a puddle that had some oil in it you'll have noticed that the oil is formed into shapes on the surface. The water on my corneas looked a little like that with several shapes in my vision that didn't move much. As I gazed I also saw many tiny dots with tails darting everywhere. The dots were transparent and they only seemed to be visible because the light as shining off them. They looked like they might be microscopic organisms in the water that were constantly moving. I wasn't a particularly pleasant thought, that they were swimming around on the surface of my eyes but at the same time it was really fascinating.

So next time you're swimming, lie on your back and see what you can see.

Swimming

During my first week at Thurloxton Manor the weather was quite hot and the owners invited me to swim in the outdoor pool they have at the bottom of the garden. The thought was infinitely more lovely than the deed, due to temperature of the water. It took me a very long time to immerse myself, and I couldn't swim for long because my feet went numb. I'm told the water gets hot by August if there's been a warm summer.

By contrast I went swimming yesterday in Louisiana. The pool water was as warm as a pleasant bath. I'm planning on going every day. However It's raining today, and I learned from living in North Carolina, that it's dangerous to swim outdoors in the rain in case a lightning bolt hit the water and electrocutes you. I swam in the rain in an outside pool in Britain when I was a child. It was fun. British rain is rarely accompanied by thunder and lightning - only if it's been particularly hot weather.

Redundancy

[I've changed the title of this post from "Being Let Go" to "Redundancy", because I'm told the former phrase means being fired. As far as I recall, I've never been made redundant before, and hadn't matched the word in my head to the event.]

My job started out part time. My main shifts were Saturday and Sunday 8am - 4pm, then 6pm -8pm. But I also did 3:15 - 4pm and 6pm - 8pm on Mondayd and Fridays. the first 12 hours of each week was unpaid because it was to cover my board and lodging. This did not work out to be enough money for me, so the owner, Charis, gave me all the ironing for the holiday cottages. She had hoped I would be able to do this ironing within the hours i was already working, but her mother Grace, was taking up an increasing amount of time so this was just not possible. i was then given the responsibility for helping Grace to bed each evening so the person who did the supper shift could concentrate on that. This ended up with me working 7 days a week but on some days it was just for one hour. Then Charis wanted me to do the extra ironing from 4-6pm so there was someone on hand to help Grace with the toilet if she needed it.

The person who had the job before me had only ever lived in an orphanage and then other people's homes whilst looking after them. So when her friend got her her own house, from the Housing Association, she was very anxious about having the responsibility for everything including the bills. At the age of 62 it was all too much change for her. So she came back to visit and told Charis all this. Charis felt an obligation to help her and decided to have a reorganisation of the staffing. She had been losing money on this part of her business and her mother needed more care so she decided the person doing the live-in job was to just work 4 hours on Monday and Friday, and 2 hours each of the other days, whilst her mother was still alive. She knew I would not want to do that as I needed to earn more money than that. Especially as the first 12 hours worked were to pay for the board and lodging. So, there i was out of a job again. Charis was very keen to give me a good reference so that was OK. I was surprised, but understood her reasoning.

So it was packing up, back to my mother's and looking for another job.

Then my daughter Helen, on hearing I was free gain so soon, invited me over to the USA to live with her for a while to look after my granddaughter.

Looking After Grace

The owner's mother, Grace is dying, although I'm not sure she knows it. I was there one month and I noticed a great deterioration in her ability to care for herself. When I first arrived she managed to get herself to her toilet with only a little difficulty. Then she started needing help getting there, then she needed help with her hygiene, then she could only use the commode if it was near her, then she couldn't get onto to the commode by herself, and then I left, so I wasn't involved in the next step.

It became my job to help her get ready for bed each night. This was a pleasure because she was such a gracious lady. She went to a private school as a girl and had participated in many sports. She had married a clergyman who was a Greek scholar and had lectured at a theology college. Even though she was now living in her daughter's house, she had brought some of her furniture with her. They were all beautiful and unusual pieces, probably antiques. Her clothes were equally elegant and of good quality. She wore mainly pink and purple shades but her daughter said she did not like pink. She told me she called the colur she wore, mauve.

She didn't like losing her mobility and was often in much pain. She often said, "Getting old is no joke."She was bleeding within her digestive tract and so in the morning there was often a lot to clear up. She would apologise for creating so much work, but I really did not mind doing it and i would tell her so. But I remembered that people like their feelings acknowledged, so I told her that I understood she felt uncomfortable.

Thurloxton Manor

I wrote a blog post on the first day of my new job in May but for some reason i didn't post it. so here it is now.

My first morning in my new place - I bring the curtain rail down as I open the curtains. My room is a little dark because there is a clump of trees outside my window. It's lovely to see the green. The old, rambling manor house is surrounded by green. The house has been extended throughout the years and so has a higgledy piggledy arrangement of rooms.

The owners live in the main wing, with high ceilings and majestic stairs. The other residents, three old ladies and myself live in the other wing, the one with all the extended bits, quaint narrow stairs and a sloping landing floor. There is a step up to my room and a step down to my en suite bathroom which has a sloping low ceiling and therefore no shower, only a bath. One old lady lives upstairs and she uses the stair lift.

(I found out later that the part I was living in was in fact the original building and as the owner or owners became more wealthy, they built the imposing manor house part. And then someone added quaint bits onto the original old part. I the vestibule of my part of the building there is a bread oven built into the wall. This was no doubt the main living room when originally built.)

I appreciate when the lady on my floor, and the one under my room are watching the same TV program. I also appreciate that they go to bed at around 8 pm so I can have a quite evening,

There is a beautiful dog here called Hugo. He has a very gent;e personality which belies the fact that he will kill and present birds and small mammals. He has a person come in each week groom him, which is more than the ladies get. their hairdresser comes once a fortnight.

The Power of Feelings

Here is a video that is well worth watching.

Gregg Braden, in his illustrated interview 'Miracles of Healing', gives evidence of how our feelings can change our physical bodies and the world around us.

He says "We must feel the feeling as if the prayer has already been answered, and in that feeling, we are speaking to the forces of creation, allowing the world to respond to us." "The words aren't the prayer - it's the feeling behind the prayer that gets the results." If we pray for peace we can feel as if we are participating in that peace. "As we feel the peace in our world or the healing in the bodies of our loved ones, we are actually empowering the field of energy (or God) to mirror that back to us in a way that will bring those changes about in our lives and in our world."

He goes on to give evidence of healing and peace brought about by the collective feeling, believing or knowing of the immaculate concept.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2116868226384685853#

Shannon the Cat

Before I leave this house I must post about the cats here. Well actually they are kittens.

They are posh kittens in that they have certificates of pedigree and cost a lot of money. Because of their cost they aren't allowed outside in case someone steals them. The cats didn't know they were missing anything and never attempted to go outside, until they were taken away on a fishing trip. I don't think they actually participated in any fishing, they just went with the family to save the hassle and expense of boarding them in a cattery. They didn't appear to enjoy the journey. I know this because they were difficult to extract from under the car seats when they got home. But now, they know there is something interesting outside the front door they sometimes make a dash for it if they see it open.

I must say that only one cat has a full pedigree, the ugly one. She really is ugly. She has a face that has a permanent scowl on it. She looks very bad tempered. Fortunately she doesn't seem to actually have a bad temper. She, along with the other cat, a male called Peewee, who has only a partial pedigree, get hauled around all over the house, used as toys and get cuddled and squeezed to within an inch of their life. They are both remarkably docile with the amount of unintentional mistreatment they get, and only occasionally strike back with a scratch. I think this was the thinking behind spending so much money. The family has had several pets but some have not been suitable.

As soon as I saw the cat Marshmallow she reminded me of a girl who went to a school I taught at. Her name is Shannon. I looked at a picture I have of her the other day and was disappointed to see the picture looked nothing like the cat. She had smiled for the camera so wasn't wearing her habitual expression.

Moving On Again

Today I was offered a job. I hadn't applied for it - well, I had applied for it at the beginning of February and hadn't been given an interview. I was disappointed. I was told my frequent job changes had been against me plus I was overqualified for the job. They thought a teacher would not be content with a housekeeper/cook job.

The person they appointed is leaving. She has been given a chance of a home of her own. She's been looking after other people all her working life and at the age of 60 didn't want to turn the offer down.

When I applied for the job I loved the area - a small country village just outside Taunton in Somerset. I've always wanted to live in the country and have never managed it yet. The job is part time, working weekends plus a few hours on Fridays and Mondays. It's a live-in position looking after 3 elderly ladies in a manor house. http://www.thurloxtonmanor.co.uk/

I've been visiting my Mother this weekend and although she's said she doesn't want to live in a home for the elderly, I wanted to visit it and thought if she saw it, she might decide it was a lovely place and change her mind. She doesn't need care and this place doesn't cater for that but they do help people once it has become their home. Mum liked the place but doesn't want to move, however, they offered the job to me to save them advertising it again.

So now I'll give you the background on why I've (almost) decided to take it.

Last Sunday night my employers came back from a business trip to China. They had been away 11 days. I had not had a day off in 14 days and quite frankly I was exhausted. They had only planned on being away for 7 days but the volcanic ash extended their stay. When they got back it became clear they weren't planning on giving me a day off until the following weekend (which would have been 19 days without a break) but jet-lag caught up with them and they didn't go into work on the Monday. I stayed in my room and caught up with tasks I had promised people I would do but hadn't been able to due to not having any time to do them. I went down in the afternoon and the youngest girl asked me to do an activity with her. I panicked and asked the mum if I could please have the day off because I had so much to do. She relented. The next day the dad was ill and spent it on the sofa so I just took the day off, but I did relent and offered to get them all some food at lunchtime.

I had been given my normal wages but no extra. After releasing the resentment I felt about the whole situation using the violet flame http://www.transformnet.org/ and EFT http://www.eftfree.net/discover-eft/, I sent the parents an email asking to be paid for my time. I told them my wages for that time period worked out at £1.50 and hour. I gave them the going rate for 24 hour care and mentioned it was common to give double time pay for weekends worked over and above the week's work. I deducted 2 week's pay I'd already been given, plus one weekend's double time because I'd just had two days off after the 14 days and deducted another £100 because the house hadn't been as clean as the mum had wanted, so I was asking for an extra £500.

The next day they had a talk with me about my request. It was refused. The reasons were

• They had told me when I first started that I would be getting no extra money for trips because the girls were at school and the time for the (weekend business trips which they were talking about) would be balanced out by having time off whilst the girls were at school
• It was my choice to educate them at home. He said I had insisted and he hadn't wanted to take the girls out of school when he did. So therefore it was my fault that I hadn't had any breaks whilst they were away.
• It wasn't their fault the trip was extended
• He had provided me with a nice car, and even though it was to take the girls places it was available for my use when I had time off. (I reiterated that I had paid for all petrol that I had used for my own trips.)
• They couldn't understand how I could have been tired because I was allowed to do anything I wanted during the days (apart from having a break from looking after the girls of course).
• They didn't have rules for me to follow.
• They also threw in that they thought it was odd behaviour of mine to stay in my room each evening and not watch TV with them all in the lounge.

I explained that as an introvert I renewed my energy by being on my own, whereas extroverts renew their energy by being with others. I also told them that whilst I appreciated all he had said (although I disagreed that he had taken the girls out of school at my insistence) I felt that another person who had a high enough self esteem would also be asking to be recompensed fairly for the work they did. He then went on to tell me that some young girl they had interviewed for the job before, had worked from 7 am to 7 pm each day for £85 a week. I said that she probably wanted to leave to get more money.

Whilst I was still in my resentful phase I had decided to get another job, but after 'the talk' I'd decided to stay because I like the girls and the mum and I did have autonomy over how I spent the days and the car is lovely, and no family is perfect, and it's a big hassle applying for jobs.

When the mum gave me my wages she mimed zipped lips and gave me an extra £40. Quite a lot short of the £500 I asked for but was probably as much as she could get away with without questions being asked.

So the people at Thurloxton Manor are waiting to see if when I give in my notice the dad will relent and cough up the cash.