Chapter 164
And here we are, the month of fools. Ha.
It’s been a long, wild ride and although we may feel at times that it’s a never-ending trial, I have to say that even at 84 years, it seems too soon.
Many of you will know that I had the privilege of caring for my good friend Phil as his dementia closed in and prevented him from living independently as he had his entire life. It was a real burden in the first few months, wading through what had become a complex mess of unmet obligations, debts and confused finances and other arrangements. Many of his treasured possessions were lost to the wind as it took the authorities considerable time to locate me and ask if I was willing to take on the responsibility of his Attorney and carer. I was in a pretty rough state at that time, my health was at an all-time low and the additional stress was not an instant blessing.
However. I persisted. As those who know me well will know, I can be a striking example of the stereotypical tenacious British Bulldog at times. I wasn’t going to give up on my friend without a fight. I feel the end approaching for myself and wonder how it will feel should I be in a similar position.
Four years later. I am so grateful that I had this opportunity, time and space to spend with my friend, to be his support and entertainment in an otherwise largely grim existence. Over the past couple of years I tried to visit at least twice a week, often more, bringing small treats and tokens, some of which were brutally dismissed by the voice of dementia, but most were eagerly accepted. He was so loving and happy to see me, never failing to recognise who I was despite struggling to connect the dots with others or remember outside the current moment. We had so many hilarious conversations harking back to comedy and song we share from decades past, from England and his homeland of Australia. He never stopped talking about Oz, despite the fact he left in his early twenties.
Over the years Phil travelled the world, alone always. He had many adventures; hanging out with Ella Fitzgerald, seeing idols Louis Armstrong and Frank Sinatra live, being hip(pie) at Woodstock, strutting his stuff with the band and a Singapore Sling in Singapore’s famous Long Bar, cuddling tigers in Thailand, turtles in Oz, sailing in Belize and not least, hiking the Inca Trail to culminate in a visit to the magical ancient city of Machu Picchu… at the grand age of 72 or thereabouts. He threw a hissy fit at our reunion lunch: He carried a painting all the way from his house to the restaurant we met in, so proud of his epic journey… sharing photos and stories… but somehow the precursor of Dementia made him take massive offense to a supportive comment and he stormed out in disgust.
This past week saw me ensconced in the Rockyview at his bedside, initially for a 30-hour stretch while I held his hand, and his heart in mine, keeping him company, soothing his soul as he went through delirium and fever, undignified times and udoubted pain, before we finally got him to a state of calm and comfort. Finally connected with another good friend of his who was able to relieve me for a few of the nights, I grabbed a few hours’ sleep at a friend’s house nearby. However, I spent every possible waking minute with Phil, playing music that he loved in endless rotation. Seeing the magic of his beloved music penetrate even the drug-induced lethargy and the wild delirium of dementia and imminent death was a balm for my soul. He rallied for a day, sharing smiles, hugs and kisses, speaking a few words of love to me that ring in my heart and will stay with me I hope until the day I find my way across the ether to the biggest, riotous party in which he now dances and sings.
I hope all our passings are as peaceful and magical as I believe we were able to finally make it for Phil.
Phillip Zelman Woolf. July 1939 – March 2024. Unforgettable.
Kat Dancer
bodymudra@gmail.com
403-931-3866 (h) +1 415 525 2630 (c)
