Words of Wisdom from my old friend Annie Taylor
SANDRA’S STORY ………..
Background: Annie is an English beauty by birth, and the epitome of “Rule Brittania” and “Keep Calm and Carry On” – an inspiring, strong, vibrant, wise and thoughtful woman, with a razor sharp wit she often turns upon herself. My memories of her are those of a vibrant, outgoing woman, who loved a champagne and a dance and had strong opinions on many things. She was extremely generous and always kind to my husband and I shortly after we arrived from Africa, and guided us in many ways. She has three children and several grandchildren, and is very happily married to David. They left Sydney a long time ago to live in Hobart, where David is an avid sailor.
Annie and David’s fourth child, their beautiful daughter, Kate, died in 1984, thirty eight years ago. Annie nursed Kate during her illness and her tragically early death at the age of nineteen. Annie was an unbelievable tower of strength and courage and I remember how she just ‘kept on going’ through the hardest hurdle one could ever face, the death of a beloved child. Shortly afterwards, Annie enrolled in a nursing degree, and became a nurse. I was never ‘lucky enough’ to be nursed by Annie, but I know she would have been the most skilled, efficient, compassionate, organized and ‘No Nonsense Nurse’ on the planet.
Whilst I haven’t seen her for decades, our friendship has been maintained by long Christmas letters and more recently, emails, and I am so grateful for her commitment to our relationship.
I have her permission to share the following email with you. I have taken the liberty of removing some of her eagle eyed observations which are hilarious - just in case they cause some dissension in her family!
NOTES
I have had a mostly very happy life for seventy years – and yes, there have been some years that have been very unhappy, for example, the year of 2009 when my beloved parents died six months apart. The years Gerald and I were separated, before we created a ‘New Marriage’, about 1990. The homesickness I felt for Africa and my parents when we first came to Australia in 1973. We’ve had our share of challenges, which we’ve always managed to work out, if not triumph over. But largely our lives have been blessed with our son, our parents and family, wonderful, loyal friends, successful professions which we loved, and our own businesses, recognition for meaningful work in our communities, robust health and energy to burn, financial stability, beautiful homes, frequent travel around the world, hobbies we have loved, amazing projects, and we’ve turned dozens of our dreams into reality.
Yet the last two years have been the worst of my life. Covid arrived into our world, with its isolation and uncertainty and fear, yet even without Covid, these years have presented me with the toughest challenges. We all experienced the loss and isolation – not being able to see family and friends, no travel or socializing and each of us experiencing so much uncertainty and instability. I missed teaching Ethics at our local school, and not running my monthly Sacred Circles, being at a ‘real’ yoga class or Sunday Mass, and all those things which connect us by heart.
We painfully sold the home we bought for my parents to live in, in the year 2000 just after the Sydney Olympics. We had the worst bush fires in Australian history which rained burning embers on our house and had us evacuate our dogs to Sydney. I had a major upset with a beloved friend. Then a huge flood surrounded our home ‘The River House’, which sparked a decision to sell it, and move to a ‘safer’ house next door. We subsequently sold ‘The River House’ and bought the house next door. On the day of settlement, we had a major storm and a major leak which caused the kitchen ceiling to collapse, and an unpleasant upset when the vendors denied any responsibility. Then we moved into said new ‘safe’ house – and on the day of the move, it flooded through the ground floor on the day of the move. I kept waiting for the next disaster to happen and developed an inability to ‘trust’ the house. Selling three homes and buying two was self inflicted and way more stress than is wise for anyone. During this time, my Aunt died from Covid in Johannesburg, and eight of our closest friends died both here and overseas. With each death, my grief compounded.
I was unable to sleep, I lost an alarming amount of weight, I experienced growing anxiety and finally, depression.
Then a week before Christmas in 2020, Gerald was diagnosed with a Stage 2B melanoma, and required urgent surgery, which went well. Soon after, he had two massive infections in the large wound in the centre of his back, which necessitated two trips to Emergency, and required daily dressings for month. I was terrified by what had happened, and traumatized by the size and smell of the wound which I washed and dressed daily. He was determinedly cheerful despite his pain, and kept his spirits high. How I don’t know. Now, every four monthly ultra sound fills me with debilitating fear and each ‘all clear’ has me shake with relief and gratitude.
I have experienced a pervasive joylessness and fear and a constant feeling of impending doom. My mind refused to co-operate with the simplest tasks. I stood in front of the wardrobe, unable to choose what to wear. I stood at the cooktop and tried to remember the passion I have always had for cooking, and some days I couldn’t think what to cook or how to prepare a meal. Making a phone call required energy I did not have, emails were beyond me, I was cold all the time, exhausted yet unable to sleep, and tearful, I couldn’t concentrate on the simplest of tasks, nor read a book or watch TV, and I couldn’t make a decision about anything.
This sounds arrogant, I know – but I was the last person in the world I would ever have thought would experience this. Prior to this, no matter what happened, I could fall into bed and sleep eight hours straight, and I could fall asleep anywhere, anytime, I could nap for half an hour during the day and arise, bright and clear. I could eat anything I pretty much liked, within reason, and my weight would remain at a steady 52 kgs, the same weight I was when I married in 1969. I was the original ‘Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm’ – the happiest person in the room at any given time, with an unquenchable – and sometimes irritating (as my sister once told me) passion for life. I was calm, capable, organized, able to accomplish six things at once, take on the difficult tasks that other people shied away from, I was the person people came to with their problems, a trained counsellor and life coach. I loved people and my family and my friends and dogs and nature and the beach and my home parties and fun and champagne and sex and food and travelling and making a difference and exercising and dancing. I loved my life.
So who WAS this exhausted woman with the frightened eyes who had inhabited my body? For the first time in my life, I experienced feeling old, and fearful of what the future may bring. Some friends who were accustomed to Sandra the Strong, who had always been able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, were unable to deal with my vulnerability and sadness. There were others who showed compassion and understanding and were a lifeline of tenderness to me. My beloved husband was – and is – my absolute rock and safety net. He has shown me such devotion and thoughtfulness and love and steadfastly believes that “Alles sal regkom” (Afrikaans for “Everything will come right.”)
I reveal my dark side when I confess that if ONE more well meaning person suggests I “think about all the things you have to be grateful for” – and says “you’re luckier than most!” I shall attack them. I AM grateful for all that I have. I KNOW I’m luckier than most. And I now know, something I never knew until I experienced it myself, that in depression – that NONE OF THAT MAKES ANY DIFFERENCE.
So - when I received the following email from Annie with her observations on aging and depression, I nearly sobbed with relief.
Here it is. Thank you for your generosity in allowing me to share this, Annie darling.
Sent: Tuesday, 24 August 2021 8:14 AM
To: sandragroom@bigpond.com
Subject: Hullo from Hobart.
Dear Sandra,
I was so disappointed to learn that Gerald has been plagued by post-op infections. They can be very difficult to clear sometimes. I fear that many of these bacterial-bugs are becoming increasingly resistant to the antibiotics we have become so reliant on and have for so long taken for granted. Hopefully no more infections or hospital stays and the next ultra-sound remains clear. It sounds as if Sister Sandra rose to the occasion in having to dress Gerald’s wound, not an easy thing to do when inexperienced in same.
I think you would be surprised at how many women of your age, to their shock, sink into depression that becomes exceedingly difficult to overcome. There are so many possible hurdles. Parents and people you love die taking with them little worlds that you will never be part of again. A life-long partner becomes ill and both you and he have to face your own mortality, possibly for the first time. Suddenly the years ahead have become rather short. Your body despite your care starts letting you down. You look in the mirror and the face looking back is OLD. Sex is no longer a pleasurable release. The utopian world WE have lived in, and again taken for granted, is changing for the worst at a frightening rate…………… My goodness I am becoming depressed just writing this!! Is it any wonder that depression occurs?
I don’t know what the answer is, probably different for everyone. I have always felt people like my sister with their religious faith have a steadfast rock to hang on to. We don’t have the wonderful churches of Europe here but even sitting in one of the ones we do have you are reminded in the peace of the place that hundreds of people, just like you, have come there burdened with ‘black-holes.’ Sort of comforting!!
Nursing Kate so long ago taught me many things. One was that facing growing old and death takes courage. Kate, only 19 years old, never having the time to experiencing the many joys of a long life, had courage in spades. Caring for Kate also taught me to worry about the day but not about tomorrow, so much time is spent worrying about what might never happen. It taught me that you do have the strength to cope with almost anything when push comes to shove.
It taught me about friendship and that although you thought you had dozens of friends probably only a handful were able to cope with the situation and that as true friends they had to adapt to my not being the same woman I had been. This also applied to our marriage, 80% of marriages fail after a child dies, and again you are not the wife you once were and probably never would be again. After Kate died, I threw myself into Nursing, not the best thing for my family, but it did save me.
Enough of all this! It would be lovely to see both you and Gerald. It sounds to me as if you have never been to Tasmania; a treat is in store for you! I have always been paranoid about staying with ANYBODY; I hate the thought of sharing a bathroom and struggling to keep quiet when possibly using it in the middle of the night. Or that the Taylor snoring would be heard by all. I would say DAVID’S snoring but he tells me that I have been known to snore too. Not that I believe him, how could a sex-symbol like me SNORE!!??
Anyway, we have a self-contained annex where guests can flush loos in the middle of the night and snore like erupting volcanos without disturbing anybody. Our guest room in the house also has an ensuite and is at the other end of the house from our bedroom. You are more than welcome to stay. In fact, it would be wonderful to have guests after so long without any.
Covid, of course, is disrupting all of our lives and not helping our equilibrium.
On that happy note take care and I am quite sure you are still the amazing woman you always were, just a bit bruised by life at the moment - but bouncing back!
Love to you and Gerald,
Annie xx
And I received this:
December 2021 – part of a Christmas Letter from Annie
“We are still no nearer to down-sizing than we were LAST year and the year before that! I get quite stressed thinking about how we really must stop putting off the evil hour but I keep procrastinating. I just don’t know how to start getting rid of all the ‘stuff’ we have acquired over sixty years. Nobody, at least here, is at all interested in antique furniture (‘brown furniture’ they call it rather sneeringly) and I do not feel like giving it away but I suppose I will have to bite the bullet and do so. As a pragmatic friend tells me if I leave it too long, probably dying early from stress, our children will have no hesitation in sending a job lot off to our local Auction House!!
Heaven knows where we will move to. The town-house we bought in Battery Point, on the spur of the moment when passing the ‘for sale’ sign one Saturday, is totally unsuitable for anyone over the age of fifty! We have been looking for a small renovated cottage in Hobart, on this side of the Derwent, with a TINY garden, for at least two years with no success.
Two of our Hobart friends have recently upped-sticks and headed north to over 55yrs retirement villages in Queensland. Looking at the brochure of one of these villages, left behind by one of these friends, I feel a pang of envy.
On the front cover is a man resembling George Clooney, swinging a tennis racquet and smiling (with perfect white teeth) at a super-slim woman with that enviable thick hair, a perfect grey colour, pulled back in a youthful pony-tail. Strolling around the immaculate grounds and sparkling villas are other happy retirees, so cellulite and blemish free they are able to don shorts and sleeveless T-shirts. Not a Zimmer-frame or wheelchair or walking-stick in sight. On the back cover is a distant view of people still able to frolic in BATHING COSTUMES around an aquamarine-pool. Beautiful clear blue, cloudless sky!
Well, having written all that It is quite cheering to realise we would be TOTALLY unsuitable for a Queensland retirement-village!! So we will have to keep looking! A bit of blue sky would be nice, though. Winter seems to have gone on for ever this year. Roll on global-warming I say!”
Thank you Annie for being there, for listening, for understanding, for your wisdom and kindness and for making me laugh. Dear Old Friend.
Love and hugs
Sandra x
14th February 2022 – Valentine’s Day