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Mrs Thought Bubble

I was inspired to write a script genre piece on how it is dealing with Mortality, family illness, Dementia , care homes & relationships.

CAST LIST

*MRS BRUISED – CARE HOME PATIENT

MRS THOUGHT-BUBBLE- MY (DECEASED) GRANDMOTHER

CARD SHUFFLER- CARE HOME PATIENT

THE WEED -Me

MISS CARDIGAN- CARE HOME MANAGER

MISS ROSE- MY MOM

RED CAP : MY HUSBAND

GINGER:  Care worker

MRS BRUISED: “I’m tired”

                                “I’m tired”

 CARD SHUFFLER: (throws his voice from a table on the left)

                                      “I’m tired too.”

MRS BRUISED: (Sitting upright like a majestic, beaten up old queen)

                                         I’m tired

CARD SHUFFLER:  Aye? Go to sleep then

 The room fans out into a full house of insidious laughter.

MISS CARDIGAN: excuse me, Dear, can you tell me where the toilets are?                                        I’ve only just                                              popped by 

THE WEED:( Looks around for a sign of a staffed house)

                         Of course just follow me….

The weed walks back from the toilets and goes to crouch down to hold Mrs Thought Bubble’s hand.

THE WEED: “She has pissed herself. Can someone change her?”

THE ROSE: “No- she hasn’t.” 

GINGER: “Here you go. Open your mouth?

(Shovels a hefty spoonful of what looks like boiled bagged food) 

Lost in thought……

The smell of piss can’t be worse than death’s kiss…

GINGER:” Here- wah-la!  open your mouth.” 

Listen to thoughts of an animated  Mrs Thought Bubble.

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THE WEED: “Tu es Pleine? “

Like an old coffin opening for the first time in a century;

 MRS: THOUGHT BUBBLE: ( creeks out slowly)

                                                    “Pleine”

THE ROSE: ( Comes back from the kitchen with another full beaker of red diluted kids juice)

                        “You   are thirsty today.” 

                        “So so thirsty”

Three empty beakers all lined up in a row – My eyes rest and are ready to aim – trigger happy and ready to blow.

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THE WEED: “She has pissed herself! Look!”

THE ROSE: “Oh you have made a pee pee Mamie- a pee pee!”

BABIES ARE SO CUTE. LISTEN TO HOW REGRESSION SOUNDS

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Nodding.

A skeleton- face grinning.

Bright light beams from  Mrs Thought Bubbles eyes.

An Image.

A carved pumpkin with a toothy grin.

Burning away in a dark room:  within.

More strained laughter churning out lactic acid.

MRS BRUISED : (on a loop)

                              Oh,I am tired 

BRUNETTE: Fiddler, Stop putting your hands down your pants. Stop.

Maybe that is the only way she gets to feel something.

Legs splayed-  FIDDLER’S fingers exploring her vagina hungrily.

MRS BRUISED:       “I’m tired”

CARD SHUFFLER: “Yeah me too! Shut up.”

Eyes veer to the table on the left.

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Dying flowers is in a glass vase.

If I had to throw it would reality become what I once knew it to be?

Jeer me on why don’t you? 

Throw the fucking vase.

Throw it!

How long have those silver wrapped chocolates been stood there? This is not some fancy New York hotel. 

If they are going to start leaving chocolates to make sure you get Hershey’s kisses.

Brown as the shit underneath Mrs Thought bubble’s nails.

THE WEED: “She has pissed herself!”

GINGER:      “I will go get dessert.”

Does it come in different sex positions? 

Sweet Silence.

One of the toughest spells to break.

No one dares look at the other.

Carers go adrift.

Congregate to conflate into gossip office politics.

THE ROSE: ” Go and tell them to change her.” 

The weed creeps along the floor until it has found the right door.

THE WEED:        “Can someone change Mrs Thought bubble!  She is sitting                                    “in her own piss.”

MRS HEGEMONY: “Wheres nondescript and the other one too?”

Great big sighs. A room full of eyes wondering if the pay they get is worth the time.

The time finally has a stroke and then another and another.

The hoist in all its bluesy hues comes for Mrs Thought-bubble.

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GINGER: “I’m sorry I got called into the office”

THE WEED: “Look it’s not you. Its just… I am sitting watching Mrs                                        “Thought bubble  over  here, shout out….  and                                                            “she is wading in her own  piss!”

THE ROSE:     “Let’s go outside”

THE ROSE: ( turns to BRUNETTE)

                        “Can we take her outside?”

BRUNETTE: ( a voice rolls out  like a plush  red carpet)

                         “Of course.” ( BRUNETTE rolls out the wheelchair – )

She hasn’t been outside in over a year.

She Shouts and protests.

Vintage sunglasses are placed on her  to help process her eyes.

Flowers.

Bees.

Sunshine.

colours.

More shouts and protests.

MAINTENANCE: “ Do you want me to take a picture?”

(THE WEED and THE ROSE in unison) “Oh yes please.”

CLICK !

CLICK!

Mature cheddar smiles captured against the vines.

THE WEED: “I love you Mrs Thought-bubble.”

Muffled sounds.

Feral.

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I’ll settle for that as an good enough au revoir.

Four doors.

Four Windows.

Four wheels.

Taxi take us very fucking far away from here , please.

THE WEED: “Did you notice that nobody came to clean the chair?”

THE ROSE:      “DON’T TELL ME THAT?”

                           “EVERY NIGHT I CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP!”

                           “IF WE MOVE HER AGAIN(pause) SHE WILL DIE.”

                            “PLEASE LET HER DIE”

                            “WHY?”

                            “WHY?”

                            “IT IS BEYOND MY UNDERSTANDING.”

Petals start to turn inwards – it’s a crying shame to see a rose start to wilt.

RED CAP:      “There was a sticker attached saying ‘TO CLEAN'”

THE WEED: “Oh.” 

                        “I’m sorry.”

                         “I love you , Rose.”

                         “I can’t imagine what you are going through.”

THE ROSE: (Wilts that tiny bit more)

                         “She doesn’t even know who I am anymore!”

THE WEED:   “I know who you are.”

                         “You know who I  am.”

It doesn’t matter if the sun is shining- water will always ignore the air around it. If it wants to pour so it shall.

Tears pour.

Tears break.

 The weed reaches and creeps until it has a secure grip around The Roses stem.

Hands entwined.

The Weed.

The Rose.

Both look out their own private window.

 Bee would have loved to see that cow…..

THE ROSE: ( watered and ready to pose)

                     “So tomorrow is a busy day. We have to sort out the cake.”

THE WEED: “The cake?”

THE ROSE: Daisy, the wedding cake?   And We need to find Mr Thought                              “bubble an outfit  for the wedding.”

THE WEED: (grapples for breath)

                        “Is she actually allowed to come?”

THE ROSE:    “Madam  Hegemony says it is fine”

THE WEED: (flat)

                         “Oh!  Cool. I wonder did we tell the cake makers that we have                          changed    the theme from sun flowers to  yellow roses?”

THE ROSE: (exasperated)

                           “YES! We are just having yellow icing on normal flowers..”

 THE WEED:     “Oh… like the colour on our invitations “

Stationary.

THE ROSE:      “See you tomorrow”.

THE WEED: (as an after thought)

                        “Mint,Yes, tomorrow.”

THE ROSE:   “10:30, Don’t be late.  We are getting threaded first.”

                        “Have you got The Bees shoes?”

THE WEED:  Yes Mam”

THE ROSE:” I swear if you had loads of money in this town you still                                        “wouldn’t be able to  spend it.”

                        “It’s all bullshit” 

From the horses mouth – let him narrate for this bit.

“...…And so the the earth continues to travel around the sun.”

“The sun goes down .”

“The moon is full faced and all fluttering eyelashes.”

“And  I still have a long face. “

Nothing but everything changes.”

Nay,

Neigh!

Horses don’t talk.

Neither do flowers

Horse manure.

Bullshit.

Jut another day in ‘I wonder what the fuck next land?

*FEELING POWERLESS*

Just an average day in average Care home.

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THE ROSE, MRS THOUGHT BUBBLE, THE WEED AND RED CAP

 

 

 

Vacant

I’m scared  because I don’t know how to comfort her anymore.

I’m scared because when I go and visit her ,

she  does this trick of making out like her eyes have glazed over into a  dark,shut, emerald door.

I can’t see inside. I try to peek through  the key hole,  carefully.

There is  seemingly no one there.

Vacant. a word chastened in hyperbole.

The remnants of a body is  clearly  still  in front of me.

I only sit and stare.

I hear a sound – high pitched screams.

It sounds like there is a disturbing altercation   going on in there.

A neighbour  breathes and passes by , leaving  only a scented whisper of

” Feed her chocolate. It keeps her subdued”.

Fair trade Chocolate does not seem like the  ethical solution  to end  a deplorable mental feud.

The air is thick with  my punctuated  words.

WHY?

the neighbour screams,

Red, furious and right up in my face-

“BECAUSE THEN YOU WON’T HAVE TO KEEP UP YOUR NOBLE ATTEMPTS TO MAKE OUT SHE IS STILL A PART OF US HUMANS SPACE

She is!

look,

Look at her .

I kiss her head and she flirts with that smile.

The neighbour shakes his head.

“All she does is mumble like a car spluttering ,trying to clock one last mile”.

“It would be kinder if they actually just stopped and kept her  underfed.”

Oh really, if she  doesn’t understand then why the hell did she lash  out to hit me ? 

She saw her ring on my finger .

If she is only a  shell then why do  such  emotions come out like she is  an venomous, angered Bee?

“I wish she would go. It is no existence”.

Yes, it is hard to see her exist like this but the only the alternative you suggest is that me ,you and her have even more distance.

Maybe I am selfish,

but nobody really knows how much she  knows.

Just because she can’t speak or walk or do much anymore .

it doesn’t meant everyone can just talk  around her like a she is a retard.

 It doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel our ignorance  like fists pummelling  her heart in  fierce blows.

I see the image of her in bed , sleeping with her Teddy bear.

 I can’t take my eyes away from it and just pretend that this is what it is and carry on like I don’t care.

I don’t cry. I try .

I don’t try . I cry.

Suffer.

Suffer.

Suffer.

If it was me in her place,

 I would make sure I had a will that specified I decided when I wanted to  dissipate into another state or  place.

(For my Gran. Dementia is ……. I am at a loss for words)

Dementia -merely human.

“I think that the only reason people hold onto memories so tight for so long is because memories are the only things that don’t change, even when people change..”   Unknown

This is a post that I  have wanted to write  for some time but my heart is still raw with pain. I’m comfortably numb as the song goes . No words I write can do justice to what this illness does to people we love.

We have had the plague

Chicken pox

Aids and HIV

Cancer.

The new cowboy in town in Dementia.

He has all the traits of the best cowboy in town

  • A steady hand

  • A look that says so much but not something you can be sure what it is thinking

  • It is true to it’s word

  •  It takes Pride in his work

  • A true perfectionist 

It doesn’t mind who it  consumes and takes out it the process.

This year DEMENTIA AWARENESS WEEK May 15-21  focuses on confronting your fears about Dementia.

The Alzheimers society is reaching out to give you support and information. You don’t have to fight this alone.  REACH OUT

I found this  – it captures how I feel whenever I see my Gran  and how helpless I feel.

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I’m going to show you some pictures of someone who has loved me for a long time.

But first

I must close my eyes

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AGE : 15.

STATE: awake

LOCATION : Kitchen ( Gran’s home ) South Africa

Gran comes shuffling in to the kitchen

“Que ce qui pas?

“Can’t sleep”

“I will make you a camomile tea” in her French accent .

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She spent a lot of time and money putting me in rehabs and looking after me when I was growing up.

I am possibly the  first and only person to have seen my Gran cry  that I know of — I’m not proud but honoured she trusted in me.

AGE:18 years

STATE:  possibly drunk or hung over

LOCATION: Gran’s Bedroom France

Grandpa was  not doing well. My Gran broke down.

All I could do was hold her.

She knew Cancer and Chemo  was going to be the   un-doing of him.

 He still tried to look after his ‘Trois filles’ ( me, Mom and Gran) until his last breath.

The greatest love affair ever!  ❤

What a pair they made.

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Grandpa got a massive contract with Loreal in the 1950′ -1960’s . He was the main sales rep for promoting the  Loreal brand  in Africa.

They travelled everywhere

Madagascar

Zimbabwe

South Africa

to name a few.

Gran had spent most of her life travelling. Her father was a general in the army. Her step father some sort of captain and she spent a few years in the cote de ivory and other places.

They had 6 children together

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And two other sons who I don’t have pictures of. She was and still is the queen of the family.

So much elegance ,grace and charm. She suffered a lot of heart ache in her life. Lost love, her mother was jealous of her as were her two step sisters.

She was kicked out of her home when she was 16 years old and pregnant. She went on to become a femme de menage and a beautician to survive the streets of Paris..

When she met my grandfather she never had to worry about love or  money again. Even when he passed on  from Cancer. Her twin sons and my own mother  still  after her.

The relationship she had with my mother was unbreakable- even now. My Gran  still demands my mothers time and is happier when she has her to herself.

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This last picture was taken in 2012 -four years ago.  My Gran’s 79 th birthday

She loves to laugh and is still a social butterfly just like my Bella Bee-

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Alzheimers and Dementia does not discriminate.

A cold and bitter night in the U.K..

 The Wind screeched out  a name

A lady manages to fumble with the keys to a door and lets herself out. 

Where is she going?

No shoes,

a  flash of car lights, 

 Great big BULGING eyes

FLAP ,FLAP

 a night gown whips around the lady’s ankles 

She couldn’t live on her own any more. She was find walking the streets in her night clothes, by her carer ,at the time on the coldest night the U.K. had in 2013.

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Gran in her new home – the first of three new care homes she would move to until the present.

This was a place with bells and whistles on. It was like a 5 ***** hotel.

In the few months she stayed here.

She was found sat in bed  drowning in her own piss.

She had spread faeces all over the walls and under her nails.

The home said she was too much trouble.

Funny, they didn’t have a problem with taking our families money for the few months she was there.

New home – two days until Gran’s 80th. Her twin sons came out to surprise her

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The day my Aunt died of lung cancer . My Mom got a call from her care home to say Granhad broken her hip. She spent 12 days in a normal hospital ward.. Always calling out. Neglected.

WAS THIS WHAT SHE SAW?

We thought we were going to lose her.

Three nurses,

A grand daughter,

A daughter.

a sedative

2 -3 hours

a struggle

Another sedative

FEAR

SCREAMS

SWEAT

PORES

TEETH EXPOSED – FERAL

EARS POUNDING

THIS SOUND      – my idea of Dementia raging  in audio.

 

She couldn’t speak but she could scream and lash out.

 I don’t  think I slept for 2 days after that event.

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Christmas 2009.

Gran  in hospital . The last time she would ever walk

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Gran loved to walk

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Gran will never walk again.

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She had to be moved to another  home that could meet her needs. No fancy hotel .

Gran’s 81st birthday

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I go see my Gran every week with my Mom. I take my daughter. I don’t want her to forget my Gran.

She went from speaking two languages, walking, laughing, taking pride in her appearance to this person.

To being a person who would blanche if she knew what she was like now.

Maybe she does and that is what makes her so angry still. 12728922_10206394372312168_9205953428105637055_n

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Yes, she screams and she can’t talk and she scares me sometimes because I don’t know what to do to help her; but she is still my Gran and she has a mental illness. 

IT IS NOT HER FAULT!

Her home she lives in now have really put quality over quantity. It;s not a show home -it is a home -home -check out  ROBERTS TOWN CARE HOME FB PAGE  .

The only people who have got my Gran to a place in her illness where she is  probably going to be able  to come to my wedding ceremony in June.

May is# MAKE MAY PURPLE   month.

Across the world May is the month for creating mental health awareness.

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I have Dementia and I still laugh

Never forget how precious your life is.   This is my gran.  She has dementia and if she had the choice she would probably love to exchange mind and body with most people.  Counting your blessings. I am counting  mine.

Rapid cycler

I’ve been bummed out for three days. I keep going onto my WordPress site and wondering what the hell to write about. This conjures up negative and totally unhelpful thoughts about my ability to be creative. What is that quote ‘Your thoughts manifest your reality’ or something like that? I guess I can see a whole lot of truth in that. So what has been going on with moi?

I spent a bittersweet day with my three uncles who swept in from France and Miami, my cuz, my Nan to celebrate my Gran’s 81st birthday. I was blown away by how on the form she was. She toasted my mind when she looked at my Nan’s (Dad’s side)  handbag and uttered these words ‘tres jolie’

Hello! She hasn’t said a proper word in over a year. Then she came out with ‘J’taime’. Amazing shit.  She even laughed when my uncles joked about. She was soaking up the family vibes like a paper saturated LSD sheet, that after a couple of hours non stop twittering, she couldn’t keep up with everything that was going on and so we left her to chill and repose.

We all went to the place I am getting married on 22/06/2016

to have English tea and other fancies. I felt a slight tinkle of pity for the waiter then thought to fuck it, he is getting paid for this.. We all just rocked up demanding High tea.  Not just any cup of chaar know. He had other demanding tables to wait on and he had to get out all the fine china out and set a table for nine. The two non- tea drinkers of the day demanding a drink. Waiter becomes barman. Should he maybe get a superhero hashtag?   It took so long far too long to receive my drink so  I thought I might as well order two.  Seriously over half an hour to shake up a cocktail and pull a fine draught of ale? The thought did cross my mind to ask if we had decided to downgrade and have ‘low tea’ as opposed to high tea, would that hurry the waiter/barman up/china crackpot to point us to our table. 

We had a flip flapping time. Crumbs of Easy conversation and catching up. Lashings of Laughter, the clinking of inhouse family jokes peppered along with scones, clotted cream, creme brulee. tarts, crust free sandwiches and watches. Sounds like I’m straying into Lewis Carroll’s mad hatter party territory. Let me enlighten thee, My twin uncles decided to buy everyone a watch. I’m no-name brand dropper but it’s a good one. It tick-tocks. Hahaha. They left on Saturday and I didn’t want to see them go.  I didn’t want to say goodbye. I left our Rendez -Vous on a high.

Other news from the languished fields of Grasse. Imagine a delicate fleur’s petals being pressed into an uncompromising position and so decides to use its fragrance like a weapon. I too have been put into many -ahem… positions this afternoon. Ha, don’t be so dirty-minded. Or is that moi?

THE BEASTER has

totally beasted me.   I do genuinely feel like puking every time I finish her workouts.

Aaaaaaw I’ve been so spoilt. Earlier today my Ma and my other uncle stopped by for a natter-he bought a beautiful gift for all of us. A gold cross for my daughter, an Italian dog tag for the hubby to be and a  gorgeous Senegalese necklace for me. It is meant to bring good luck.

I have been so touched by the love and gestures of my uncles. My aunt was missed but ultimately we have to move on. Reminds me of another saying

‘If you are depressed you are living in the past and if you are anxious you are living in the future and if you are at peace you are living in the now’

I’ve been so low and anxious lately. I’ve had supercharged extremities in mood changes- rapid cycling – is the term most in the know use. I think I would rather do a 3-day spinning class than go through these mood changes. I am the proverbial ‘ mood ring’.  Is the mood ring a proverbial phrase?  Whatever it’s been done.  I always get through it but it is iffy dogs bollocks. Yesterday, I thought- shall I get tanked up on alcohol? and then I thought I can’t be bothered. I can see no benefit to it other than a little merriment. When did I get so sensible, so not L’Enfant terrible’?

Perhaps, my now not-so-new coping skills have changed the dynamics of my crisscrossed, disjointed and colourful patterns in my brain of some my old behaviours. The grooves may or may not have got ‘groovier’ Depends on who you talk to on the subject of grooviness.  This leads me to the  ‘WRAP’ (up)course I’m doing. I’m so new to blogging and WordPress.  I am trying to add a  WRAP page with subcategories for all the different topics I will cover in the group so I can share it. So far so not succeeding on the website works.

I did it.  Got a blog posted. FUCK that was hard. It might not win me an  ‘awesome blog post’ award but I did it. mmmmmmmmmmmmh that reminds me of a wedding cake update I need to do…………