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Showing posts from October, 2018

Daphney and Adriana in the Dutch Series Guyana

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27 January, 1813.  The Essequebo and Demerary Gazette of 27 January, 1813   has a notice from Cathrine Oxley. She is looking for a well known "Negro Woman" of the Ganga nation. People are asked to deliver Daphney to the 'undersigned' or to the colony jail.  Where did Daphney go? She was famous - why was she well known? Did her fame make her a target for the people to catch her? Did Daphney inspire others to 'absent themselves' from the slave owners? In another  edition of the gazett e , John Willouhby is offering a reward for Adriana . She "belonged" formerly to a Reverend . There is a list published in some editions of the Gazette of the  "Runaway and Arrested Slaves in the Colony Jail" On the 8th January, 1813 , the list includes Amelia and Margereth. These notices are published between notices talking about sale of imported claret, and "superfine baltimore flour", and pickled beef and pork and fashionable hanging

Mental health and Elmer's Wood Glue..

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The chairs had been made by an excellent woodworker. Some of them started loosening up early.  We had to be careful when people , on rare occasions would take them to sit. I bought the Elmer's Wood Glue in 2015.   One of those random crazy things when I imagined I could fix things. I could never get around to fixing the chairs. There was no urgency and it was always overwhelming. I would be brush and clean the chairs, try to fix them together and hope they stayed that way. They looked  stable even though they were disjointed, broken. Like I do sometimes. Somewhere deep inside, I feel the time has come to fix the chairs even though they will not be used much. I don't trust the glue to hold them together but at least I can move them around without having to push in bits and pieces. The chairs have to be taken apart. The mortice and tenons have to be dusted and cleaned.  I can't believe that I am doing this.  One video I watched said to remember to brush the side

Fixing the broken bell...

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The broken bell The handle of the brass bell had snapped off from the waist about ten years ago. The bell was left on a bookshelf, in a corner,  with the handle balancing to one side, one of the many things to fix.  No one really noticed it. I am doing the annual cleaning so I move the bell and its broken handle , and think let me wash them.. with baking powder as recommended recently as a quick way to clean brass. Wood glue on metal I had bought wood glue to fix some of the wooden things in the house. I put some of the glue on the thin circles. My arms, hands and fingers are in some crisis these days as it seems carpel tunnel is a thing and my fingers don't always hold things.  hold the handle on the waist , try to balance. But the glue runs off and the handle doesn't seem to rest.  The bottle of wood glue says nothing about putting on metal. I sigh.. I can't fix it. It is like so many other things at the moment. The fix.. I wipe off the glue, and my fingers

6 unexpected lessons on mental health from the plate of food

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"dear god , leh me ded now" I scream in my head as the body in pain tries to hold back the sobbing and the bawling. The pain isn't releasing with the sobbing.  It is early morning and the conversations with the two patients are not good. One patient tells me 'sorry' after I try to beg for instructions as to what to do for cooking.  The food negotiations are complex.  One patient has specific needs but holds on to control and any attempt that I  want to eat differently is a sign of breaking that control or rejecting the offerings. Another patient who used to enjoy food can no longer enjoy food the same way.  And this is only one of the decisions to make.  I breakdown, and feel more sick because I can't believe that interactions with the two patients can break me down. In my head though, as I cry to god to leh me dead, I know that I am not taking responsibility for my own death. I don't pray for anything, except that I can be useful and helpful and t

When breathing and yoga don't work ...

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"Me nah want tablet" the patient tells me and I start arguing with the and then he takes the tablets. I am tired after though. I could say okay, if you don't want the tablets then could you sign this paper in case people want to know why you are not getting better.  I am listening to understand what the problems are, as the problems are no longer what got the patient into this condition in the first place. The patient is in pain all the time. The discomfort with the stomach is frustrating the patient. The patient needs nutrients to recover, but does not want to take any tablets. No matter how little the food, it is always too much and it seems a sin to throw away the leftovers.  The patient has to drink water to keep peeing, but does not feel like drinking water. I curse the surgeons who recommended the surgery without any thought for the quality of life afterwards and no plan for the recovery.  The surgery has healed, but the other problems which have arisen are

The joy of water falling freely all over the skin...

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"It arite now, you discharge' the nurse told me and I exhaled and all I could think about was standing under the shower for a long time and let the water flow all over without having to worry about bandages getting wet. It has been a month of bandages and of bending and twisting under the shower, and avoiding sweating too much or trying to stop the sweat from getting near the bandages.  It has been a month of new care giving duties as well and I know that the patient used to like water falling on his skin but cannot get it. They told me that I should have a 'sponge bath' to avoid the area from getting damp. I said to hell with it, because I realise as life changes rapidly and so many things I cannot do any more.. that I will enjoy what I can. The water feels good on the skin. I can imagine that somethings are washed away. Not everything though. And so the relief.. water, (thanks GWI for the nice water pressure) , soap, water, scrubbing skin all over like I