Forever Baby: Jenny’s Story - A Mother’s Diary. Mary Burbidge

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СКАЧАТЬ the bad things than the good things in my life? Would long descriptions of calm, pleasant, intelligent, friendly interchanges be unutterably boring? Are they boring in the living or just in the re-telling? ‘And they all lived happily ever after’ suggests that I’m not alone in concentrating on the turbulent, negative aspects of life for the bulk of the story.

      Have I mentioned Jen? Do I have to mention Jen every day? They said she was no trouble on the bus today. She never is.

      It is a shame, and sad, but it is understandable – one major purpose my diary serves is to let me let off steam, so at the end of a hard day, after several pages of ranting angrily, I feel calm and am able to finish more gently.

      I made Anthony cook the tea while I soothed myself playing hymns on the flute and playing with Jenny. Dear Jen, she never makes anyone cross, and will always give you a laugh and a cuddle and make you feel better.

      However with twenty-three volumes, covering over five years, to look back on, all those little entries add up to a full picture of my Jenny as she lived her special life in our family.

      Jenny was part of all sorts of activities, at home, at school and out in the community.

      Jen and I went swimming with Geraldine, then bird watching at Cherry Lake. Then everyone came home, seven loads of washing were hung out, or brought in, or folded, or dried in the dryer, and we all went to Nanny’s for tea.

      Nanny and Jenny came to Joey’s school concert with us. Jen was a bit of a pain: if she wasn’t kicking the man in front she was pulling and biting my hair and struggling to get her leg free so she could kick the man in front. It makes concentration difficult and I was glad when she fell asleep. Nanny behaved herself perfectly. Poor Joey was coughing a lot while on stage.

      Geraldine picked Jenny and I up for the Peace Rally at 4.30. The numbers were pretty disappointing–I’d say only half as many as last week and Mr and Mrs Average were conspicuous by their absence. At least we could hear the speeches this time and they were quite good. As we straggled along St Kilda Road towards the U.S. Consulate I played old peace songs on my flute while Geraldine pushed Jenny.

      Geraldine, Jen and I went swimming at Altona. Because of work bans, entrance money wasn’t being collected and all facilities could be used. Geraldine is a strong exponent of the joys and beneficial effects of saunas, so we hoisted Jen out of the pool at the deep end and walked her into the sauna. I don’t know what Jen though of it, but I find them stifling and uncomfortable (and also rather embarrassingly silly – sitting round in your bathers, doing nothing but make small-talk with a bunch of half-naked sweaty strangers) so we didn’t stay long.

      Show Day, a perfect day for spending in the garden, digging, planting, mulching, and mowing, while Jen wheeled herself around on the decking, walked along the balustrade, and bounced and snoozed on the trampoline.

      Jen, Jo and I did the marketing. Jo bought a short black skirt and a piece of pizza for herself. I bought everything for everyone else. (I’m the Mummy) Jenny touched up bananas and total strangers.

      Jen and I had a late lunch at the Pelican Cafe. I love it there – a great setting for a short story. All the customers are characters, cherished and greeted by name, by the loud-voiced Cheryl. She brings me up to date on the medical details of various friends as I eat my herb and mushroom roulade and feed Jen her sausage roll and chips as delicately as I can. Jen and I are characters among characters. Sharing our soup and food. Cuddling and clapping hands. Jen bangs on the table to make the dishes rattle. She lunges at the next table and whips off a plate. She rolls herself across to the counter, pulls down a collection tin labelled ‘Support Joan Briscoe’s Wheelchair’, shakes it and hurls it to the floor with a mighty crash. Don’t you think Joan Briscoe should have a wheelchair, Jen?

      She was in fine fettle in Burke’s too, while I was searching urgently for Christmas presents for Georgie and the family in Africa. She’d lunge at the merchandise and I’d lunge at her.

      By the time I was carrying four purses and wallets, and trying to manoeuvre the chair between laden tables with one hand, and lunging, snatching and restacking as I went, a shop assistant actually offered to assist. ‘Could I put all those purses on the counter for you until you’re ready to pay for them, dear?’

      I rode down to the Commonwealth Reserve at 8.00 am to help set up our Check point for the Community Aid Abroad (CAA) Walk Against Want bike riders, then rode home again. After doing all the usual morning things with Jenny, animals, clothes, food and newspapers, Jen and I strolled back to the Check-point. For the rest of the day I checked (stamped books and said, ‘There’s cool water over there.’) and Jen pushed herself in circles round the park in the big wheeled chair. She was very active, but I kept having to rescue her. She runs into tent walls, rubbish bins, water coolers, people’s legs, or gets stuck on power cords, little sticks or ditches. A couple of times perplexed citizens would start pushing her, looking around anxiously for her owner, when she was way off by herself. She had a lovely time. It was much nicer having the check-point at the Commonwealth Reserve. There was a band playing in the rotunda, lots of activity to watch and dappled sunshine to sit in.

      School provided most of her activities and filled most of her days. Yarraville Special Developmental School (YSDS) was a wonderfully stimulating and caring environment where Jenny could improve her skills and enjoy herself.

      Jen will be delighted to get back to school tomorrow – the holidays are pretty boring and unstimulating for her.

      Jen had a busy day, off to school by 8.00 and lots of special activities for Education Week. I went up to see a sing-along and music therapy demonstration. Jen kept standing up and leaning against me so I sat her on my knee. The teachers rolled around laughing at great big Jenny sitting on my knee having a cuddle. Quite embarrassing.

      Jenny had the day off for Parent-Teacher interviews, so I started her increased morning dose of Tegretol and she slept a lot. Her interview was OK but I feel her teacher rather over-rated her skills in her written report. I don’t think ‘understands most things that are said to her’ and ‘fine motor control is very good’ are really accurate assessments. She understands tone of voice and familiar phrases in a context, with cues, rather than understanding actual words. And I don’t really think fiddling with things till screws come loose and pulling out pubic hair are evidence of good fine motor control. They like to write encouraging optimistic reports. She is making progress though, in understanding and motor skills, at a greater rate than she has for years, and her skin has improved since I cut down on her sugar and fat intake.

      Jen has a sleep-over at school tomorrow. In the hall are a large case, a huge bag and her camp-bed – all for one night away.

      There was a Football day at Jen’s school. I couldn’t find any footy jumpers, but in Ant’s room I found a beaut Bulldogs flag, and the big wind-tunnel kite the Lindsay’s brought us from the USA has long red, white and blue streamers, so I sent her off with those flying from her chair and an order for a hot pie for her lunch.

      Jen’s school report was sent home. It’s amazing the things she does there. You’d think they’d get special parental consent for ‘parachute activities’ though! (That reminds me of a protest I visualised once, back in the days when Tom Roper was Minister for Health and Westraid was fighting with him about something. My vision was to parachute Jenny, in her wheelchair, off the top of 555 Collins Street so she drifted slowly by his plush executive suite windows up near the top there, with protest banners flying from the chair.)

      Eating was one of the skills her teachers worked hard on – with some success, some of the time.

      I took the extra time and trouble to make Jenny put each forkful of food in her mouth herself. СКАЧАТЬ