Jean's story

Frank and Jean Newlyn - holidaying in Monaco 1971Frank Newlyn tells his very personal story of love, loss, grief and wonderful care at Catholic Healthcare's Bodington, Wentworth Falls.

This is the story of a sickness, a vile insidious thing that moves lava like and unyielding through the human mind, destroying its ability to function or relate to the complexities of life – it is called Alzheimer's disease.

It is the story of a girl, her name is Jean, and she is suffering with this incurable sickness. However, there is a team of wonderful people who give her the crucial ingredients of love and respect on her final journey.

My name is Frank and I am Jean's husband and lover of 60 years. We married in the last months of World War II and our life together, in the peace that followed, was that of a happy busy family as we raised three boys.

The boys are men now, married and pursuing their own dreams, but during visits they often recall the many pleasures in their young lives with mum and dad.

With their departure in the early 70s we became ‘empty nesters' and bought a caravan. For 15 years, we travelled the length and breadth of Australia, then a great deal of the world.

We worked at many trades, but as we both had a serviceable knowledge of journalism it became our main source of income.

With age creeping upon us we decided to retire to the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, where we would live a relaxed life, tend our garden, go bushwalking, play golf and have an occasional dinner outing. Yet the fickle winds of fate determined otherwise.

Jean was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease in the final months of 2001 and I cared for her in the following years as she slowly slid into the abyss.

It became apparent to me by late 2004 that I did not possess the medical knowledge or nursing skills required to care for her. As she deteriorated I commenced a search for a hostel, which could supply her essential needs.

Many establishments were visited, but there was always that indefinable something that turned me away. Jean would not spend the rest of her life in that place, I reasoned, then we found the jewel in the crown – Bodington.

While being shown around by the softly spoken and very sincere Director of Care, Chris Connon, I noticed the well-appointed bedrooms and large dinner room. Most importantly, the nurses gave us a warm smile and hugged Jean, telling her how much she will enjoy Bodington. “We will care for you,” one nurse said, “because for us you are special.”

I have always regarded myself as mentally tough, having witnessed the destruction of war and the loss of young mates, but nothing prepared me for the sadness that followed when I delivered Jean to Bodington. The grief was so overwhelming that I ran from the place to hide in my car, sobbing for a good hour.

On returning to Chris Connon's office, to complete the paperwork, the tears flowed again. Chris gave me a cup of coffee and in a quiet steady voice she told me of her philosophy on life. It was very uplifting and this I found was the essence of the whole Bodington staff.

I recently met a nurse from the ‘low care' house (where Jean spent some time before being moved to ‘high care') and I was surprised to learn she visited Jean in her own time. This shows extraordinary dedication and generosity of spirit.

The nurses in ‘high care' are very special. Their patience with the sick people is exceptional and they make sure it is a happy environment.

I visit and spoon-feed Jean her lunch three times a week, because she is now incapable of doing this herself. On a recent visit she was unwell and the nurse repositioned her in bed for lunch.

When they were turning Jean I noticed her withered limbs and I began to sob uncontrollably. One of the nurse placed her arm around my shoulder and said,
“let it go Frank, just let it go.” How do you repay respect like this? It is priceless.

Although the nurses are the front line troops, there are others who work quietly behind the scenes. Using their vast array of skills to ensure those under their care get the comfort and dignity they deserve. Their efforts are the best of all human endeavours.