Song Making
The conversation that inspired the poem that inspired the song
John Dair in conversation with Chris Rawlence.
50 years ago I met a beautiful lady who was to be my wife and now, after nearly half a century she's still my beautiful wife, but our roles have reversed. Whereas the past 40 years my wife has looked after me, looked after me very well, she now has alzheimers and dementia. She can remember things, but years ago, like her father sending her out for rolls in the morning or her sister - who's been dead 13 years - teaching her to play hockey, but as to what she's had for breakfast, she wouldn't have a clue.
I have lung cancer, physically I can't do as I used to but she still thinks that I should be that big powerful man. She'll say there's nothing bloody wrong with you. I really don't think she really understands how ill cancer make you. Now, even getting out of the chair is trouble. When friends ask how I am, she'll say I'm up the pub with friends, like in the old days, when I am just out in the garden. I couldna' draw breath but I was down the pub. What makes it bearable is that you've got to laugh. She'll ask What's the day - a 100 times a day. I'm getting more and more impatient and when I get upset it upsets her. Rather than say some thing, I just say OK.
My daughter brought some donuts over. My wife has a sweet tooth. Any more donuts, she says. I says, you ate them all last night. She says, I can't win, can I. If I eat them all I'm greedy. If I save some you say look at the food I'm wasting. She can still make a cup of tea. Last night I peeled the potatoes. She put them on the plate, half cooked. She says they'll be alright in half an hour. She used to be a marvellous cook. A brilliant cook. Not cordon bleu, mind, but I don't half miss it now.
The inner John? In the last three months the inner John has got a lot more calm. A lot more understanding of Gina I was in Guy's for a month and she'd come every other day to see me. People would say, how's John. She'd say, he's alright, he's in the pub. I reckon we're getting on better now than we have for years.
She's come to realise there's something wrong. More than something wrong. She tried to cover things up in case I stuck her in a home. It's very wearing, the same question a hundred times, but then for 50 years I've been a male chauvinist pig. A wife and 3 daughters, know what I mean? Never brushed a shoe, or ironed a shirt. Never did anything for myself. She used to do it Mum was indoors, I was outside, fishing. It was marvellous The saddest bit for me now is that Gina needs help but right now I couldn't even cook her a meal.
Gina today has more personality than she did have. She's more relaxed. She was always a quiet person. You'd have to speak to her - she wouldn't speak to you. Funnily enough, today she's more sure of who she is. Yesterday I had a bath, but I canna get in or out of a bath. Gina runs the bath for me. I sit on the bath edge and Gina pours the water over me. She still does that. She'll rub my back and dry my feet. She gets pleasure from this. It makes her feel wanted. She pulls my socks on for me. She's always says, I did this for my father.
I'm up in the night coughing and spitting, but she sleeps alright. I've made arrangements for the future. She's well looked after if anything happens to me. My daughter is her carer too. My concern is that when I go will she get any worse? But once I kick the bucket there's nothing I can do. The best scenario would be if she would pass on first. But she's fit as a fiddler's flea. I could look after myself much better than Gina could look after herself.
