Joy

When I was a student, back in the early 90s, there was a laboratory support lady who prepared whatever was needed for practical classes. As students we didn't need to see her very often but occasionally lined up at the barn style door to collect resources. Joy was most decidedly not joyful and we would comment to each other about her incongruous name.

I can still see Joy's cheap canvas shoes and no nonsense blonde hair, which I would best describe as a bob but not a manicured bob, more a combination bob/ bowl cut designed for easy care. Whenever I saw Joy walking to the station, she walked with her shoulders hunched as if to protect herself from the weathers of life and her face had long ago forgotten how to arrange itself into anything but her usual hard bitten armour.

In my final year of part-time study, I  found myself unemployed. By that time I had been in and out of the lab for years and and the lab manager, Maolcholm, offered me six months of work, aiming to use up his budget.

I was assigned the bench facing Joy and so we spent large chunks of our days together, her pet cane toads in a tank between us.

The reason I thought of Joy was that I was considering that I have 12 years to pension age but once upon a time, women could receive a pension at 60 and in that case, I would only have 5 years to go.

Joy had been caught in the change over, looking forward to retiring but then with the changes was being forced to work an extra two years and she was not happy about it.

I found that while Joy was not terribly happy, she wasn't as bad as we students thought. I also realise with hindsight that she was probably sick to death of students and likely treated us better than we deserved.

Joy had been the eldest girl in a large family so had spent much of her young life caring for her siblings. This had led her to decide she didn't want to spend more time looking after children of her own and she had limited social connections so lived a quiet life with her second husband and two cats, in the same street as Australia's largest mosque. She was never racist about the mosque but I know the crowds and the noise were sometimes overwhelming for her.

Joy once commented to me that she never should have divorced her first husband, that in hindsight there was really nothing wrong with him but that their relationship had got a bit stale and they had divorced. I don't think she was unhappy with  her second husband, more reflecting about the hardship and loss she had experienced for possibly no good reason.

I liked Joy well enough and was happy to chat to her but our relationship was in the moment, I now wish I could go back and meet her again. I wish I could ask more about her life. I'd like to know what she had achieved, what she had enjoyed, what were her significant memories and what hopes and dreams had been lost along the way.

Thinking about Joy, I was trying to figure out if she could possibly still be alive. I didn't remember how old she might have been but if she was thinking of retirement in the early 90s, she would have to be over 90 and I doubted she was well enough to live so long.

A cemetery search revealed that Joy Eileen was interred at Rookwood on 14th March 2002, aged 75.

Rest In Peace, Joy. I'm certain you deserve it.

An Aged Care Tale

 A man phoned, asking to do a tour of the facility (lets call him Gary)

On the appointed day, Gary came in with his mum Edith and brother Rick. I said hello to Edith, shook Gary's hand and then moved to Rick. His handshake was unenthusiastic and he didn't give me any eye contact.

I did my standard tour with my standard patter and then took the family into a quiet room for a conversation. I explained the process from enquiry to admission and then asked if the family had a timeline in mind. Most families are looking at discharge from hospital into aged care and the timeline is "as fast as we can" but Edith wasn't in hospital and seemed to me to be quite capable (although some capable looking people are deceivingly needy)

Gary said he didn't have a timeline in mind but would be guided by Edith. I looked directly at Edith and asked if she felt ready for aged care.  She stumbled over her words a little and said she would be guided by "the boys." Trying to help her find her voice I said "but you probably have an opinion?" 

Edith told me that she married at 20 and her husband had made the decisions from the time of their marriage until he died. She also talked about how she enjoyed living in her own home and when necessary she had the support of Rick who lived with her. Then she made some throw away comment about having disagreements with an adult child. I was a bit taken aback so I laughed and made my own throw away line "Oh, just argue!"

I decided I couldn't push her further and let them know that we would welcome her if she decided that aged care was what she wanted.

Management advised me that Edith would make an ideal resident and asked me to offer the next available bed so I called Gary and he told me that Edith wasn't ready yet but then he said "I wanted to thank you for the pastoral care" I asked what pastoral care "When you told mum to argue. The truth is, Mum and Rick can't stand each other and I was trying to find a way for her to have some peace for the end of her life"

I don't think I will ever forget Edith, nearly 90 and still unable to live her own life. The great shame of it is, she wouldn't be the only one.

Birthkeeping

 Stacey Warnecke was a "wellness influencer" who died of a postpartum haemorrhage following the unassisted birth of her first child in Melbourne last year. As the coronial enquiry wraps up I remembered a client I might have had back when I was practising as a doula.

"Bella" was a doula herself and we had met for coffee a couple of times when I had wanted her to be my back-up.

On this occasion, Bella had asked me to meet up and wanted to discuss the possibility of me becoming her doula. She wasn't yet pregnant but was making plans.

Bella asked my opinions about various aspects of birth: whether I would support a home birth, how I felt about unassisted birth and finally she asked if I would call an ambulance if she lost consciousness. I carefully explained that if she was unable to make decisions for herself, that responsibility would fall to her husband as Next of Kin. I also explained that I hoped he would make that decision but if I was concerned enough, I would not be able to stand by and do nothing.

Bella told me she was so against medical intervention that she would rather die than go to hospital. I said that I didn't believe she would hold to those principles when she was actually carrying a baby and the life of that baby was at risk.

Needless to say, I didn't get the job but I did hear through the grapevine that she did have a baby boy after an emergency transfer to hospital.