peachmanstewart

Z is the end. No one wants to think about the end, but when the end comes, you’ll be glad you did. Since I’ve been working with the elderly, I’ve heard the term “palliative care,” but I was often confused about what it meant. When the hospital declared someone palliative, it didn’t seem to mean […]

I need to apologise. To God. There are many days–most days if I’m being honest–when I whizz past the beauty and the incredible wonders of his creation, and don’t look up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I saw that yesterday. And every day last week. Yeah, that tree is beautiful. Whatever.” I race out the door to

Y is for yesterday. Be careful not to deify it. What are your best memories?  I remember a time in the early years of our marriage. We were on our hands and knees, washing the kitchen floor. I can’t remember why, but things were tense, when suddenly the picture we made struck us both funny

X is for eXpert. (Okay, I cheated a bit. X is hard.) When you become a care partner, it’s often a new, unfamiliar world. The role sometimes is thrust upon you with little notice, and you look to all kinds of sources for help. Doctors speak a different language which is difficult to understand, especially

One of my favourite characters, Kermit the frog, sings the pensive song, “It’s not Easy Being Green.” He laments how green blends in with everything and is kind of boring. He thinks perhaps orange or red would be more fun, but finally concludes that green, the colour of spring and trees and other wonderful things,

W is for wisdom. Since the first day I walked into Christie Gardens, full of both hope and almost crippling fear, the residents have taught me many life lessons. They shared their wisdom, sometimes intentionally, but often without knowing it. I am the richest woman on earth because of it. Today, I share with you

V is for value. I have dementia. I can’t remember things. I don’t recognize what or who should be familiar (probably including you.) I’m also elderly, and many parts of me don’t work well any more. My walk is slow and shuffling, with the help of a walker. Macular degeneration has stolen my eyesight and

U is for usual. We all have “usual” in our lives. “Usual” is the routine we follow in the morning to get ready for work. “Usual” is the same commute every day. “Usual” is the tent peg driven into the ground of our lives that anchors us. If “usual” isn’t “usual” it doesn’t ruin our

T is for truth. In any stressful situation, truth can hide. Black and white is smudged and emotions, fears and the constant barrage of change can leave us rubbing our heads and wondering what is truth in this circumstance. Or worse, believing a lie to be truth. This is often the case for a care

Something happened yesterday that surprised me. It shouldn’t have. Freda lives in the neighbourhood where I work as an advocate at Christie Gardens. She says very little. Days might go by without her speaking, and if she does, she only says “yes” or “no.” She still communicates, though. She has the most incredible smile that