Bunjee Jump

I edge myself cautiously to the precipice not daring to look down to the gully below.  The safety harness is attached to me and I listen questionably to the operator who expects me to jump.  Should I jump or should I chicken out?
OK, STOP right there!  This is no bungee jump, this is a life decision we are on the precipice. There is no easy answer and no right answer.  What is right for one person or family is not necessary true for all.
Before leaving the city six months ago I spoke candidly to a trained nurse at the HD association.  She provided me with a list of care facilities to inspect.  After a bit of research I cut my list to three.  I have visited two already.  The implications of what lies ahead creates a battle scene in my head.
I remember attending Huntington's group sessions for carers when life with Merv was easy and no major decisions were necessary.  I had sat glued to my seat barely moving or flinching a muscle. I was  horrified, mortified of the group's real stories of their caring journeys.  I wanted to run, to hide and not be found.  If you hide the Huntington's will seek you out and cause you pain.  There is no hiding place.
I remember vividly a story I read about a male carer in a similar position to myself, he was just beginning his journey with his wife and was also horrified of the stories of other carers.  He related the story of hearing about 'the shit hitting the walls.'  Years later he confessed that was also happening to him.  Their journey had advanced and now his story was the same as the rest of the group.
Unfortunately my journey has also caught up with us.  There is 'shit' everywhere and I'm cleaning it up and poor Merv as well.  I don't remember at the alter on our wedding day when I said, "For better or for worse" never realising it meant cleaning adult shit as well.  Babies; well that a whole different matter.
Do I jump or do I chicken out?
To be fair, to be sensible, to be realistic I will get the ball rolling.  I'll put his name on the list of the local care facilities but when I get that phone call stating there is a room available for him I am the only one who can make that decision.  If I say 'no' his name will stay on the list.  If I say 'yes', our story will change.
Life is a story continuously changing.

Life decisions - always easier with apple pie and cream

Smelling the Flowers

I know I can count the number of summers and Christmas's Merv will enjoy in our house before being admitted to a nursing home.  There won't be too many.  Only the other day I told him when he can no longer stand (weight bear) he will need to.  His walking is much more animated and he gets breathless and sleepy easily.  Not being able to weight bear is my bench mark for his care to be transferred to a nursing home.  If only I had a magic wand.
Summer is knocking at the door and summer days enjoyed outside beckon us.  Our alfresco area is without a view of the sky or garden, therefore my fantasy back garden evolves in my mind.
Celebrating six months in our new house next Sunday and looking back over those months we have done quite a bit to the house including the front garden but except for the veggie garden not much else.
Thank goodness the back garden is so much smaller than our last one!  It's not what works for us.  There is a large area of grass with concrete borders for the flower gardens.  There is also a outlandish purple and pink pergola.  Sad as it may seem I'm getting used to the colours!  My idea of painting it in the Spring may or may not happen.
At the moment I'm busy digging up the grass, yes all of it!  It started with my blunt shovel before I swapped it for my $8 garden fork from the hardware store.  It worked a treat until it started to bend out of shape.  Oh well, another trip to the store for a better quality one.
Only a few months ago my quest was to have a gazebo built which will look out over the back garden but what is the point if the garden isn't finished?
I want so much to have a wheelchair friendly garden path where Merv can see, smell and touch the flowers and marvel at the birds who will visit our flowering native plants.  It is clearly in my head.
Merv already has a wheelchair ramp to the back garden.

our home grown veggies, yummy...

I have contacted local landscapers to quote me on my dream while I furiously dig up the damn grass! I will plant the plants myself and hopefully will choose them wisely.  It is so easy to plant things which grow out of control and need a bottle of poison and a lot of digging to eradicate them!
I have an ornamental windmill as the centrepiece.  A path will wind around it to all areas of the garden for wheelchair access.  Oh, may my dream become a reality....I'll keep you posted.

The digging begins...

Mel digging, bless her