Nowt-about the dangers: part V and LAST!

In his comment to Part I of this series, Ali 🐝 Anani, Brand Ambassador @beBee powerful intuition picked up on my need for quiet and isolation; he mentioned The Walden Effect. How right he was! My life is not my own; there’s no time to change my mind, re-evaluate, calm my spirit. That ALWAYS reminds me to clear my work-load and get in touch with you Deb🐝 Lange, Brand Ambassador @beBee, but it also I hope, explains so many other things; I, not being my own person! That’s okay – it is what it is. 

Unlike Che who looks at her husband’s dementia as his fault,  I can rail against Parkinson’s, but I won't beat my hubby Pete over the head with it!

Back to the story, which I won’t recap. I’ve left the links at the bottom – this is rather cathartic for me to get this out, so I mustn’t grumble about lack of comments!

The disaster of day 1 & 2 over, I’d hoped that things would settle down. But we’d sat over coffee on day 3 (briefly…I had a ton for prep to do before the remaining 300-euros worth of foodstuffs rotted), and it was evident that Pete was in trouble. Again, he felt that we should go home and again, I said give it another couple of days. 

Pete had set-up on my laptop (he has a 3-screen PC at home) most of the days anyway, like he would be at home. I was truly hoping he’d settle and then the sorely-needed sleeping would commence!

No more day counting – really doesn’t matter. It got hotter and hotter. Che had asked that we didn’t run the a/c longer than an hour a day. After 20 days, we just had to.

With the uncommon heat wave, everything came into bloom (I spent 2 to 3 hours watering each night). This brought on a plague of wasps. 

and I was stung many time. Mercifully Pete wasn’t, but it put him off going in the pool, when a dozen plus took water at any given time. 

There were thousands and we had water and a huge area of food for them – I am told they don’t use the pollen but feed on the ticks, fleas and larvae that are attracted by the blossoming. I killed many nests (for Pete’s sake!), but the roof was just undulating with them. Che said she was trying to find an exterminator…..

Pissy the dog was an escape artist and liked to be chased. The idea was to tie her to a retractable lead after dinner so she’s stay in the front patio area until her last wee walk and to the dog-house. If we were out, same applied. Of course, cunning was essential – she could smell my intent and would take off. Then wake Pete during the night with ceaseless barking. 

Incidentally, the 3rd night Pete couldn’t sleep so he decided to go swimming and was stuck in the pool for an hour – he couldn’t get himself out (no rails). That was Pissy’s first night-escape. Catching her was impossible. But she still managed to escape the patio several times. It was curious…I saw scratch marks on one area of the wall and wondered if she could jump the rest of it? Che said she could have her taken away…probably should have done that but I felt it would be unfair on her brother Mopey.

Things calmed down as bit as the heat steadily rose over the next few days. I had rigged several hand-holds for Pete so he’d be safer (if I had seen the pics of the inside as asked for, I would have said NO to begin with). Pete sat indoors at his desk or in front of the TV, door closed to preserve the a/c. Che told us she had close to infinity or π amount of movies etc. to choose from, just neglected to tell us how to source them, so Pete watched whatever was re-running on the 5 or so channels. He was too exhausted to do much else.

As it’s part my job to watch, wait, assist and be ready to fly if he’s unsteady, I could tell he wasn’t going to calm down. His freezing and Bradykinesia (very slow, reluctant movement) was ten-fold, and that was hitting his psyche horribly. So in tune are we that if I’m upset, so is he so I try to remain as calm as possible as I lift, guide, dress, undress him. 

Although there were a few days there of relative peace (because we had PROVISIONS), this ‘new’ Pete – unsure, beaten - worried me more than ever. His acute parasomnias were back as were his daytime hallucinations (that’s normal to PD…he knows he’s having visions). I told Che that we may need to return early – she wasn’t happy as she hadn’t got her husband’s medical investigations finished, so we stayed on.

Then the living room was flooded. I traced it back to the bathroom after seeing this on the wall behind the sofa:

Turned out to be an ill-placed hook directly under the main body of water in the shower; I tried to patch it up:

This taught me two things two things:

Between all the domestic disasters and cooking, there was no time whatsoever for me to do anything. I had laid out my plastic, paints, canvas, wood, brushes and dremel and they all came back untouched.

But we had some fun with Paula and her husband who so gracious saved our lives during that damn shopping day! We went up to visit: Tiny speck top of L hill.

Such lovely peeps…until Pissy showed up…arrrgh! That set their 7 dogs off (I did suggest that she may be ‘edible’ yet; a meal for her army of mutts?...sorry Deb🐝 Lange, Brand Ambassador @beBee! I got Pissy in the car and drove her back to the Casa Aspiras. It would’ve taken half a day to walk it.

I saw she had chewed through her cord so I now attached a ratchet line to her, went back and got Pete and puzzled over this mystery between all the other distractions that demand my attention NOW NOW NOW NOW.

We’re about 16-days in. I have to accept that Pete’s been severely compromised as his PD is still on its highest settings. In the end I relent; we must go back early. We tell a very unhappy Che that we’ll be returning after 30 days, not the 56. His Blepharospasm (eyes squeezed shut; an often painful dystonic PD symptom) is full on almost all day, instead of just at night, and he’s having giddiness I suspected due to his dangerous BP drops. Time to go.

This was one of only two BBQ’s we had. I had moved the table, chairs, umbrella, BBQ & gas-canister nearer the pool where we could get out of the evening son – fun! I had also rigged up another tarp-sail to try and increase the shade…that didn’t work as I would have to put in fitting to their wall. 

Every afternoon, the wind came up something fierce in the 100F degree heat. The awning over the front patio was coming apart – thank God for clothes-pegs!

Nearly done. We tried to change tickets with the bucket airline (rhymes with Cryin’fare), but they wanted to charge us £450 for ONE bag! Can’t remember the total, but it would have been 3 times what we paid to get out there! 

We ended up booking something else entirely, so if anyone wants 2 tickets Malaga to London on 25th this month – contact me!

With maybe 8 days before we leave, shit happens!

It took SO LONG to break into that thing I finally took an axe to it, and carefully measured what was left – send to Che. I was worried (a bit Cyndi wilkins…only a bit) that the bloody dog would die on me. They’d both stopped eating a couple days back; I thought it was the heat. Ants had moved in like a tidal river and I ended up dumping the food almost as soon as I put it down, moved, put it down, moved. Two days of that and that was it with the dogs (well, Pissy anyhoo). 

Told Che she had to get someone to take them.

Down the hill we go; me Pissy & Mopey. I feel lighter; all is well for a moment…yay! I take some pics – I like to find out the geology of a region. I now know it’s called ‘unrelenting’ stone. 

It’s been about an hour; I’ve gone up and down the fairly loose and treacherous hills. It feels like a walkabout a bit! I’m in my fifties; not had the chance for a walkabout since mid-forties. The dogs are doing their thing and keeping up, going ahead, backtracking….usual. 

Sweating like hell, I’m now on the home stretch, already noted

As I walk up to the top of the far-side of the dam from the casa, it’s fairly flat; I misstep. 

The seemingly flat rock has an angle underneath, and I go down – hard; foot, knee, smash back of head.

I think its a few minutes. I think its nanoseconds. I’m looking up, mercifully through an almond tree that provides me some shade. I do a mental check of the potential damage..lots of pain but everything’s movable. I stagger back to Hacienda Hell – even with my phone on me I can’t call Pete or the Police; I have every confidence that if I can’t get back, the man who calls ‘Zeus’ will eventually find me.

This is the upshot: poor Paula has to take me to doctors then down to the hospital. Pete in tow, we were thankful for such kindness, but grateful we’ll be going soon (meaning lots of those delightful sub-cut anti-coagulant injections). Next day, I cut the cast off. We can’t both be immobile. It’s not a big break.

I’ve repacked all my art gear, given away a lot of my pre-mades, pre-marinades and dressings, to Paula. I realize just as the last days are upon us, I hadn’t even unpacked my clothes.

Here’s the question: Why would I believe and go along with someone I didn’t know (clearly) well enough?

She’s our landlady. She didn’t get her husband seen to; she wanted to be here to have the place valued for sale. Why didn’t she just tell us that? We’re to be evicted after near 10 years because she can’t re-mortgage. I wish she’d’ve just told us……

When walkabouts go wrong: Part Uno  2 min read

Walkabout part II 2 min read

But...Whatabout…..(sounds like walkabout) my brain?: III 5 min read 

Flap about: Part IV 4 min read