Because my aged mother is fading.
Not without a fight, and generally not without at least one argument with me daily. But she is fading, and You Do What You Can.
Which is, frankly, and let's not get too sentimental here, a lot more than she's done for me since the mid 1980's. But hey You Do What You Can and etc.
The stretch of road alongside Loch Lomond is one of the few highlights of the trip.
Scenic non?
And famous. One of the more famous lochs, if only because of some really trite songs pedalled about it and it featuring on shortbread tins and all.
Trust me though. When it's been on your itinerary as part of a three hour round trip every bloody Sunday the novelty doesn't half pale.
9 October 2011 at 20:48
My mum lives just a few miles away from here and I know where you're coming from. Mind you, she used to live on Dumbarton Road.
9 October 2011 at 20:52
I don't know the trite songs or the shortbread tins. I am impressed with the spectacularness of it!
9 October 2011 at 20:59
Rog - Good god! Small world! Next thing you'll be telling me Oz and Lil have had a walk round Balloch Park....
Von LX - The best lochs are all north west of here. Keep an eye out when you fly back over...
9 October 2011 at 21:16
Oh hon. Sounds like 3 shades of large Victorian knickers.
One trip at a time and *breathe*
9 October 2011 at 21:38
Roses - Yep AND it takes the whole of my Sunday...But it will get better after this won't it?
9 October 2011 at 21:41
During our mother's last six months, my sister came up from Wiltshire every other weekend, 230 miles away. Don't know how she coped. Mind you, I lived next door to our mother for 15 years. My greatest anxiety is being old and a pain in the arse. Because once you are the latter, it's too late to be told, you won't listen.
When I say 'you' I mean that impersonally, obv.
Sympathy regarding your ma. It's a bugger, fading.
9 October 2011 at 21:42
Has to be better than three hours of inner city congestion...
and I guess death will mean you don't have to do it anymore - yours or hers! Sad eh. I have still to face this with my parents - the gradual decline and the prospect of them going... but very hard when it requires time and effort at a a distance and you will be glad you did it..
play good music
learn a foreign language while you drive
take more photos and sell them to biscuit tin people
:)
9 October 2011 at 21:46
I've driven that road along Loch Lomond and it is indeed beautiful. But familiarity can breed contempt, or at least indifference. I hope your mother is at least fading without too much pain.
9 October 2011 at 22:12
Haha Macy. I have a very similar experience on the mother front only my trek takes me down a particularly (un)scenic stretch of the M25 and then the M23 and the bastard powers that be have dug up long stretches of both roads and made them 50mph with cameras to catch you out if you dare go at 52mph. Then I get to do it all over again a week or two later...ho hum. Our rewards will be great in heaven or somewhere...
9 October 2011 at 22:22
The scenery, the geology, doesn't change in its essence (it couldn't care less). It's the filter you see it through that changes, and that is both normal and healthy. We wouldn't be human if everything was just neutral.
So enjoy the Loch Lomond road, as you see it now. After all, you never see the same Loch twice.
9 October 2011 at 22:31
A bit like commuting really.
9 October 2011 at 22:56
Z - Touche. She is old and she is ... well she isn't making life easy for anyone, let's put it that way.
The Cherub has very precise instructions what to do if I ever start getting like my mother.
Fi - Sighs I will continue to sing. Loudly. Badly. And in a foreign language if I have time for language lessons...
Nick - Thanks. She's not in too much physical pain. Just scared of what's ahead.
Curry Queen - Indeedies. Major karmic rewards are surely just around the corner...
Tim - Yep. That's what De Quincy said. Though from here it does seem like I've seen that loch before...
Jenny - Yep a journey you really don't want to keep doing, no matter how nice the view.
10 October 2011 at 00:17
So you don't need to look at this video ...
10 October 2011 at 00:27
I do like your attitude, Macy. Yes. We do what we can.
Yoga, my friend. And deep breaths. I'm thinking of you.
Pearl
10 October 2011 at 01:26
My Ma lives on the other side of town, only 30 mins away. I visit a few times every week, but missed my last Thursday visit because other family members needed me elsewhere. And boy did I get an earful tonight from her! "So you don't know how to use a phone?"! :¬)
xxx
10 October 2011 at 07:02
63Mago = Brilliant!!!! That's the stretch of road north of where my mother lives now. Where I grew up. You can see my old schoolteacher's house and Sloy power station wehre my dad worked.
And at the end you pass the Drover's Inn. The best pub in Scotland for climbers and hillwalkers.
Pearl - Thank you! A lot of the doing what I can also involves spending time on the phone with care agencies. Remembering to breath comes in handy.
Maps - So lucky. I could do with mine living a lot closer just so I can keep an eye on her.
Never thought I'd see the day when I wanted her living closer mind...
10 October 2011 at 07:29
That's a beautiful shot you've taken and the loch looks so still and glass-like.
Now that Dad has died, we don't have to do the A1 run up to Newcastle quite so often, because Mum can come down to us on the train too. However I do have a poorly aunt who is in hospital at the other end of the A1 so I'm still on the buggering road!
10 October 2011 at 07:47
I made them come to me this week, because I'm plain mean!!
Sx
Plus they are looking for property this way, so I do have an excuse for being a meanie.
10 October 2011 at 08:14
Trish - A friend once said darkly "we're going into the funeral years".
She was looking on the bright side.
We're actually in the long distance trudge of duty years..
Scarlet - A sensible move! Literally.
10 October 2011 at 08:27
"Keep an eye out when you fly back over..."
The flight path is over Southern England, so I can't see. Perhaps a blog meet-up in Scotland instead? bwahhahhahh!!!
10 October 2011 at 08:32
I get to do a trip like this every week but the view is not as dramatic...there is lovely countryside now and again though, so I stop and take a picture, and I always plan what I am going to listen to there and back...I really love my little 'me' time in the car singing my head off now! Imagine - all over the land there are ladies (and men perhaps) of a certain age driving here and there on 'care' journeys...a little army of people 'in the funeral years'.
Chin up Mace...x
10 October 2011 at 09:55
Macy, dammit. I've just been where you are. Breathing, wine and medication helped. And cake. Cake always helps.
(this would be why I've just joined weightwatchers ...)
10 October 2011 at 17:24
I know it doesn't mean much, but you do have my sympathy.
10 October 2011 at 20:38
Von LX - WAAAAAAAArghhhhh! sound of Macy running back to the hills
Libby - Every second person posting here seems to be doing a similar journey! Yourself, Trish, Scarlet, Maps, Curry Queen...I'll just have to try and enjoy my "me time" then....
Speccy - Oh I know you've been through it. And aplogies if it's bringing back bad memories.
Dave - Thanks. If you could put in a word with him upstairs as well....
10 October 2011 at 21:46
Already done. Regularly.
10 October 2011 at 22:36
Oh this brought back memories - and dread of the waning years of our last remaining parent.
No words of wisdom, just a virtual hug and a big bottle of virtual wine - the good stuff.
11 October 2011 at 00:01
I remember one Christmas Day driving back from visiting my MIL in Edinburgh. we planned to have meal at the motorway station with a lake but it was closed so we had baked beans at home.
Our five children are scattered hither and yon - including France and Australia. Hopefully we can stay independent and not be a drag to them.
Its time for you to have some good luck. I'll have a word.
11 October 2011 at 00:19
When my wife's mother was spending her last days in a Senior Citizen Home, my wife traveled twice a week (once a week I accompanied her) to visit. Those trips were full of conflicting emotion....obligation, doing the right thing, dread, and rehashing of sins of the past as we drove. We certainly didn't have the wonderful scenery in our drive. But, I think I understand your dread.
You visited me, and thank you. And now here I am to meet you. I think I got the better end of the deal.
Warm regards,
Jerry
11 October 2011 at 08:14
Dave - Ticks box
Barb - Waves at the wee bakery and new dog. Why have I just realised that nearly everyone does this at some point in their life?
And that hardly anyone talks about it?
Pat - I know the service station well...but what a drive on Christmas Day
You'll never get to be a drag on yours Pat. I can tell.
Jerry - No your blog makes me laugh. FBI duties allowing, I expect clips of piano playing anytime soon...
13 October 2011 at 06:57
After I have just realized that your last 3 posts have 29 comments each, I am going to break this pattern by leaving comment no. 30.
Word verification on this one is ficified. So, maybe I have just ficified your post.
14 October 2011 at 01:53
Librarian - Hi! But to reply to you, I'm going to have to nudge the comments total up to an odd number again.
There is, indeed, no end to this ficification....
15 October 2011 at 08:53
Hugs and sympathy.
Being close by — and needing looking after myself — it's Saturday lunch and Sunday tea with parents for me. I feel a tad inadequate as all I can do is keep them supplied with magazines and treats, because no matter what happens it's: "no, we're all right, we don't need anything, thanks."
15 October 2011 at 13:52
Mr Musgrove! Over here we've gone past the "no, we're all right" stage - through into the "I wish everybody would bloody leave me alone".
That could be arranged. But then I'd hate myself..
16 October 2011 at 00:46
"Why have I just realised that nearly everyone does this at some point in their life?
And that hardly anyone talks about it?" was exactly the realization I had when it was my turn. Talk away, sweetie, it helps.
(new dog sniffs your shoes and there's a loaf of Walnut Sourdough with your name on it anytime you care to claim it...)
20 October 2011 at 08:20
Hey Macy....thought about you this morning and wanted to say Hi...so good morning Macy...that's all.
20 October 2011 at 08:47
Libby#!!! I just posted a new entry as you added this comment!
Spooky. Deeply spooky.
Or synchronicity...
28 October 2011 at 11:50
There are times to forgive all past sins and do what we can. Somehow we will regret it if we dont.
Funny how routine takes away the beauty of our surrounds, until some visitor shows us how beautiful it is
30 October 2011 at 10:32
Clyde - Absolutely. I repeat to myself often - "Imagine this time next year she's gone"
That works.