Registering for the Welsh Masters

My running is going so well, including being selected to run for North Wales, I was starting to dream of running for Wales as a whole. That both times I ran for North Wales I was the slowest of the team didn’t deter me. And Louise has started to ask me about it. I started looking it information about it, but only found anything about 2026. Too late for that. 

During the Own the Night run, Emma also started talking about it. She explicitly named the Welsh Masters, and said the info about 2027 had just been published. So I looked again! And found what I needed.

From the WA website 

The Welsh Masters are for runners over 35. Each year they pick one event to represent the distances they cover: 5k, 10k, half marathon, marathon. (And then a trail and cross-country event, but I am ignoring these.) And they published the qualifying times. I looked; I haven’t run a marathon in 11 years so I am out for that, but I qualified for all three other distances. For the 10k, that wasn’t totally relevant as the chosen race was on the same day as the Snowdonia Half Marathon, which I really like. The 5k would be in June in Shrewsbury. I decided to think about that. I don’t have to decide until May. And the half marathon was the Caernarfon one. I absolutely would want to do that! So I officially registered my interest. I hope I will get selected! It will be summer 2027 by the time I will find out. 

I think my chances are good. They have teams of up to six runners in each age category. I obviously have no idea how many amazing F50 women there are in the south, but how many would be willing to come all the way to Caernarfon? And in the north there are only few in that category who can beat me. Jen can; she recently ran a sub-3 hr marathon and that's amazing, but I doubt she wants to compete here. Bad news for the other countries if she does! Jane from Buckley Runners sometimes can. That’s sort of it! In the last 13 races I ran, I had 12 category wins. And in the one race where I didn’t, the lady who managed to stay ahead of me was running for Cheshire, so wouldn’t qualify to run for Wales. She might be there for England though! She is quite the opponent… 

Nothing will happen for months now. But I am already excited! 

From the Netherlands: another shift

I was still reeling from my mother’s change of hart about professional help, and then my sister reported the next one. She said my mother had mentioned she was fed up, both with being ill and with life altogether, and my sister logically brought up euthanasia. I had done that too, and she wouldn’t hear of it then. But now she responded differently. Maybe because she realised her future was now lying in a nursing home. She now was in favour. 

I remember my mum speaking, over the past years, about euthanasia in different ways. I suppose that one’s opinion changes when circumstances change, but circumstances couldn’t explain all variability. I guess she still has some ambiguity about the topic. And ambiguity might very well mean it’s not offered. We will see how this develops.

I don’t know how long the process even takes. I am confident she meets the criteria regarding her situation. But we will have to see if she sticks with her decision. It could be one thing to want it when you find yourself bed-bound and fed up, and another one to want it once the process has actually started and it becomes starkly real. We will see! I personally find it a big relief this possibility is there in the Netherlands. Once quality of life has gone, it is possible to gently bail out…

In the Netherlands: my sister arrives

My sister also wanted to come to the Netherlands to see my mum. She would arrive on the Wednesday evening. It would be great to see her! And I went to pick her up from the station. It really was good to see her.

Her train had been quite delayed, and she came from a time zone where it is an hour later. That meant that the evening was short. We sat with my mum, and caught up until it was time for both my sister and me to go to bed. We would have part of the day together on Thursday.

The next morning she had breakfast after I came back from my run, and I joined her with a cup of coffee. She then went to see a friend while I did my usual caring duties. When she came back we sat with my mum again. It was nice to have a three-way chat! But at some point my mum got too tired. 

Morning run picture

I had to prepare for my way home again. I said goodbye to my mum, and my sister walked me to the railway station. In all likelihood, the situation would be profoundly different the next time I would be in the Netherlands! It was weird to leave. But my mum was in good hands…

In the Netherlands: a shift

It was on my second day in the Netherlands that I had, for the Nth time, the discussion with my mum about the near future. My mother had kept insisting that she could perfectly do without help. But she was the only person believing that. We would not leave her alone. So as long as she refused help, but couldn't get out of bed, my two aunts, my sister and me would just keep turning up. And I think the penny dropped. That changed her mind. Suddenly, she said she wanted to go to a care home. 

I didn't know what was happening to me. But I immediately notified one of her sisters, and the GP. The GP said they would send a geriatric district nurse at some unknown time in the future, to assess the situation. And then things would move from there. I was very relieved! I was of the solid conviction my mother couldn't be left alone for considerable periods of time, and it is very difficult to have someone there every day if you are drawing from a pool of two people living abroad, one 90-year-old on the other side of the country, and one 78-year-old nearby. For what easily could be months on end. 

If she would agree to go to a care home, at least none of us would have to worry about her trying to stagger to the loo, falling over, breaking a hip, not being found until 12 hours later, and then having to go hospital where she really doesn't want to be. That would really help!

Now that she had made that decision, she also wanted it to be implemented right now. But we didn't know when the district nurse would come for the evaluation, let alone how fast things would be happening after that. After some pushing, we heard she would be coming the Monday after. I would already be home. My sister would still be there. Only just! 

Phoning the district nurse herself then revealed that if she would deem the situation severe enough, she could report back to the GP, who in turn could arrange emergency admission somewhere. So maybe my mum would be in professional hands soon. A relief! 

In the Netherlands: other activities

When I was staying at my mum’s, of course my mum was my main priority. But I also took the opportunity to connect with my aunt Len. I think Jose was relieved to not have to go to Amersfoort for a few days, so I didn’t see her again after her being there when I arrived. 

Len suggested coffee at another relative’s place: Jennifer, who I had met before, thanks to my sister. She is the daughter of one of the younger uncles. And then lunch in town, just the two of us.

It was great to see Jennifer. And after the coffee, as we were biking around anyway to get to our lunch venue, Len and I popped past the old family home, and the grave of my grandparents. The lunch in town was lovely. This was the first time ever I had had some quality time with her. It felt very natural! 

My grandparents’ grave

I also saw a fair number of people who live in the same complex as my mum. Mostly, that was just a brief chat, but I did pop down to have a glass of wine with Mieke.

I also went on some runs, of course. The first day, I biked to the edge of town and ran from there. The other days I kept it shorter; just two laps around the city walls. A bit more urban than going to the woods, but still beautiful… 

Running amidst autumn colours 

In the Netherlands: my mum

I was one hour delayed arriving in the Netherlands, but otherwise my travels went well. When I got to my mum’s, my aunt was still there. It was lovely to see her! But then I wanted to get to my mum. My aunt understood, so I barged into the bedroom. It was so good to see her! 

Reaching the Netherlands 

My mum looked so frail! I was glad to be there. But after the initial meeting I waved off my aunt. She had to get home. 

I took my usual place in the spare room. And I could fill my mum’s glass of water, help her get up to drink it, do shopping, make her an occasional sandwich, and things like that. I also popped to a local medical centre to see if there were any aids I could rent or borrow. And I had a set of keys cut for my other aunt (with my mum’s permission, of course). In the meantime, my sister was organising a trip over. 

The local medical centre

My mum appreciated the visits but didn’t understand the fuss. What was the problem; she could still get to the loo! What more did she need? That her going to the loo was very precarious, and bound to go catastrophically wrong sooner or later, was neither here nor there in her opinion. And that I struggled to imagine her successfully fetching her own glass of water didn’t strike her as relevant either. 

She clearly also couldn’t clean the house or do laundry or any of that anymore. She didn’t even know where her glasses were. But she claimed she was fine. My mum, stubborn? Surely not. 

This was going to be an interesting visit! But I was really glad I was there… 

Drop everything and plan to go to the Netherlands

I couldn’t get my mum on the phone. That had happened before. But this time, I then got a message from from my aunt Jose to say she had tried to visit, with an actual appointment, but that she found my mum unwell in bed. She didn’t want any fuss, or anything really, and my aunt had to leave. 

I was wondering whether earlier failed attempts to phone my mum had reflected a similar situation. Would she have felt rubbish and been in bed? Unable to walk to the phone? It would have been a fairly regular occurrence then. But she would never tell me.

At that initial visit, my aunt did what she could and then left. But she came back. And rallied my other aunt Len. Jose is 90 and lives on the other side of the country; Len is the youngest of the (originally 9) siblings and lives in the same town as my mum. Unsurprisingly, as it is their home town.

My mum was just about able to go to the loo, but that was it. So she needed help. And my aunts provided it. And my mum showed no sign of perking up again, and being able to make herself a sandwich, let alone going out to buy sandwich ingredients. Or even go to the door to accept a delivery. Not that she wanted anything to eat.

If you are 86, only lie in bed, and don’t eat, you get weak. It might finish you off. So I spoke with the aunts, and decided to book a flight and come over. Was that convenient with work? No, of course not. My week was chock full of its usual teaching, plus teaching that had had to be moved from my period of jury service. But I only have one mum! And she needed help. So I sent a message to my line manager, sent announcements to all students it affected, and to the people who were on the modules with me. And then I was ready to go. I wanted to see my mum!