Kaleidoscopic time

How strange to think that time can pass so slowly, yet at the same time, seem to flash past before the eye can blink.

Our trip was truncated, due to many reasons.

Sadly, I did not find myself able to relax and enjoy it all.
Much of the journey was tinged with sadness, as I recalled being in many of the locations with Gom.
We were rather impressed with much of the highway.
It has been extensively upgraded since I last travelled that way, with Gom.

We visited the "Hippy Village" of Nimbin.

It is a very interesting place, with obviously great significance to the local Aboriginal peoples.

My personal views were, perhaps, not flattering to the influence of other,  later,  peoples.

I felt it had a tired, sad, faded and jaded appearance, and time would not seem to have dealt kindly with much of the idyllic thoughts and plans from previous years.
It all seemed a little contrived now, to my eye. But who am I to judge, or even pass much comment.

We could only find 'Backpacker' accomodation in the area, and it was mostly of the rudimentary type.
As I said, I am too bl**dy old to be traipsing down some corridor, in my raggedy night attire,  in search of a toilet, in the middle of the night. Or even a shower, in the cold light of day.

We found a 'Bates Motel' some miles out of town. It was very isolated, and we were the only guests. Strange noises,  and leaking dripping taps,  did nothing to comfort us, and in the night it poured torrential rain with no letup. I kept telling myself the owners dog, Molly, looked very comforting, and well cared for, and thus reassured myself Molly's owner could not be a mass murderer, or even a ghoul!
It was ridiculously cheap, and having an ensuite was a highlight, in spite of the dripping waters.

 Byron Bay is ever an engaging destination, and the day we visited, it was almost sunny. We largely had wet, and somewhat cold, and miserable weather for much of our trip.
I must say, my son's driving skills leave nothing to be desired in the face of hideous wet roads, and almost monsoonal deluges.

I was delighted to see this Bag Limit for fishing at a Beach we visited. How lovely to think there were enough fish to require limits.
Of course the down side was the thought that man has been so greedy, as to require 'bag limits'. I think this beach was Flynn's Beach and close to Port Macquarie.

We did spend some strange nights in some 'interesting' accomodation. Not all to be recommended, but most to be discussed and (later), laughed about.

There were some sunny patches, and some beaches were sure to be delightful in the full heat and shine of Summer.

Hardy and enthusiastic surfers seemed to be out in most of the beaches we stopped off to visit.

This beach we loved, spent some time walking up the sand, which seemed to be almost pristine, and recenly washed. I never fail to enjoy the salt wash line of the surf, and the little kelp seeds, on the sand.

A small child had left these little footprints in the pristine sand. They somehow made me sad.

This is a carved statue of someone called Henry, who lived and loved on this beach. I have forgotten the name of the beach.

This is a Bush Turkey, which apparently Henry used to call his 'Chooks' and he fed them, when he was alive. It seemed he patrolled the beach, and kept it clean and tidy.


Upon my return home, I was greeted with a letter, advising me I had a re-call for my recent mammogram.
I was not worried, as I had had a biopsy and extensive investigation last year, for a minor condition.

When I attended the re-call Clinic, I  noticed a Jigsaw on the table in the waiting room. We were six women waiting for the tests, and the news, and some were more nervous than others.
I was struck how comforting women can be to each other, when a crisis demands.

We talked and laughed among ourselves and the Jigsaw remained untouched, but I kept remembering how Gom and I had loved to do Jigsaws together, when he could still see.

I was the second to be told all was well, and so I hope the other ladies all had positive outcomes, from the tests.
When I came home, I found a Jigsaw that Gom had never attempted, and I set about doing it by myself.

I found it engaging in a sort of numbing fashion, and I did enjoy the way it gobbled up my thoughts. A good friend came to visit and placed some pieces, and, inspired, went home to get a puzzle out to work on for herself.

I did finish the puzzle and here is the proof!
I did a further simple, smaller jigsaw, but feel I might take a break, as they say.

Dire Straits Private Investigations.

Follies and Foibles

I am going on a Road Trip, with my son.

We have decided to take the opportunity to visit some rellies, who live at the top of this State, New South Wales.

This is a trip that Gom and I had long planned to take, but somehow events conspired, and we did not take the journey.

Son and I are planning to be very flexible, and just take it all as it comes. We have no destination, apart from the rellies at some stage. We will see where time and tide take us.

I have always wanted to do a trip this way. Leisurely and slowly, with no rush or time limits. And no definite  destination.

Gom was a man of 'plans'- though he seldom let me know of his intentions, and calculations, before the journey was begun.

We would set sail, and he would then inform me that we would be at So & So by 5pm and heaven help us if we needed a comfort stop, or were dying of hunger, it was all go go, until we reached the destination, and we could wet ourselves or suffer dehydration and starvation.

Arrival as close to his estimation as possible, was what the trip was about.

At times this was almost alright. Howcver there were times when it was breathtakingly, clenchingly,  uncomfortable, in the case of the toilet breaks. Hunger would often  make both the children & I grumpy to the point of misery. To say nothing of thirst, once we had used our supply of beverages.

The most horrible of these regimented trips was a time when we were booked, for the 6pm sailing,  on the Inter Island Ferry, which sailed between Picton, in the South Island of New Zealand, and Wellington, on the North Island of New Zealand. This was a four hour trip, and not always pleasant, as Cook Straight can be notoriously rough.

We left Christchurch in plenty of time to make a visit to his daughter, who lived with her mother, not far from Picton. When we arrived, our daughter was not home, so off went Gom, hell bent for Picton.

The children and I were starving, as well as needing a comfort stop, but there was no stopping Gom. He was very reminiscent of Toad of Toad Hall, behind the wheel of the car.

We reached Picton around 1.30pm, and Gom became convinced he could get the car a berth on the 2pm sailing of the Ferry. I told him that was all very well, but our needs came first, and with 2 young hungry children, we needed to refuel. Gom, not to be thwarted, dropped us off in Picton township and motored off to the Ferry.

Imagine my horror, when once more, relieved and refuelled, we ran to the dock, to find it empty and no cars in sight and the Ferry about to sail.

The children panicked, cried and felt abandoned. I felt quite murderous thoughts, towards Gom.

A man appeared at the car ramp, and beckoned us to 'Come this way!'  'Has  father left you behind, haha?'

I spent most of that Ferry trip in aggrieved silence.

Thankfully, we spent that night in a Hotel in Wellington, but had Gom been alone, I am sure he would have begun the long drive up to Auckland immediately, upon driving off the Ferry.

**************

In other news, Beloved Brother has taken a Sky Dive.

I was rather horrified to learn he was to undertake this venture, and said to my Son that I have lost my sense of Adventure.

Son asked if BB was "adventurous", and I replied that I felt the word was "foolhardy".

 Here is BB about to leap from the plane, with his second born son, giving him the thumbs up, in the plane. Second Born's turn was to be next.

Here is BB flying. I wondered "Is this the face of terror?"

He tells me it was not, but remarked that the rush did strange things to his face and beard!

I told him I had visions of cheek flaps beating off his ears, but I can see they were well protected by the helmet!

Here he is, in what he tells me is the magic part of it all, flying and soaring above the earth, with the panoramic view, and the wonderful feeling of weightless flying.

He did land safely, and says he would do it again, in spite of an initial exit, halted, due to a 'problem', and a landing to refuel before taking off again, for his actual jump!

Second Born says he will never jump again.

I wondered how the photos were taken, and BB tells me the tandem man has a camera strapped to his left wrist, hence the wonderful shots of all the action.

I do admire BB his bravery, (or foolhardiness.)

Of course, I am extremely glad he enjoyed it all, and landed safely back on land.

In other joyous news, he is to be a grandfather again, so he is looking forward to that, very much.

One of THOSE drawers.

Do you have one of those drawers?

You know the ones that contain anything and everything, and seems always to be overflowing.

Gom used to despair at ours. He would always suggest I rid the drawer of really essential items, such as a tin opener which only partially works. But, it does have a great bottle top remover!

Or, the egg slicer, that Gom insisted was seldom used, which would then, produce a flurry of boiled eggs to be sliced to use in salads and such. Or, the cheese slicer, which I doubt has ever actually been used, but then... one never knows when it might be needed.

There are the collection of non stick-surface-safe-utensils. Spoons, spatulas, fish slices, forks,  and tongs along with the vegetable peelers, with brushes and other pitting/gouging features. I will admit the vegie peelers don't seem to figure largely on the list of  'most used', but on the other hand, they are handy if we have visitors, who wish to peel or slice.

Being left handed, I am rather protective of my pet vegie peelers. They almost become rendered utterly useless if right handed people use them. My knife collection is sadly lacking in left handedness, due to the righties in the family using them all the time.

Then there are the seldom used Pizza slicers, the sandwich cutter, the knife sharpener, from my Grandmother's era,  which still works really well, for me at least.

There are the garlic presses, some of which are almost useless. The ladles, the whisks, the spoons for various purposes.

The Parmesan grater, which is almost more trouble than it is worth.

The really blunt kitchen scissors, which are really just large, useless,  'normal' scissors and should be discarded.

One of these days I WILL clear this drawer out, and discard the useless items.

It won't be today.

**************

I bought a chilli plant for my son B. He loves chilli, and this plant was named Bruce.

Bruce did remarkably well, for me, who has permanent brown thumbs. Bruce bore two lots of fruit, and they were nice and mild and provided son B with some tasty zing to his meals.

You can see, the last baby is rather deformed and late to ripen. However my brown thumbs have actully produced the Parsley in the same container, so I am pleased about that.

The violets continue to produce healthy looking leaves with much vigour, but nary a flower shall grace their parents.

The Nasturtiums valiantly try to grow, and they produce gems of dew, and even have a few buds, which will no doubt flower in due course.

Unless, of course they are ripped out, in the course of a 'garden makeover', currently being undertaken by son B, with a little help from me.

***************

Small Grandson, who is growing up so quickly, it frightens me, informs us he loves classical music, and jazz is really his favourite, but he hates heavy metal rock, and loud guitar. What a sensible lad!

Ottmar Liebert, Duende del Amor.

Paralysis

It seems I am paralysed, which may seem like an insult, to people with physical disabilities.

My paralysis is, I think, in my mind.

I seem to have days where I can think, and can contemplate,  a life to be lived.

But then come the dark days, when rising from the coccoon of my bed seems terrifying, and I cannot see the point in even trying to pretend I am functioning.

I am not sure whether I should blog about this. It would seem, somehow to be, almost obscene. Other people seem to gather their wits, and carry on with their lives.

I could offer no judgement or comment on other's grief path. I suspect we all have to follow our own path in the healing, of a loss by death.

          *************

We have had a birth in the family, which is to be celebrated, with much Joy.

Mum, Dad, and proud Big Brother. We welcome, little Hayden to our wider family.

A daytrip to a soothing beach was pleasant diversion today.

We sat, and listened to the soft swash of the waves, on the small serene bay. We watched young children delight in the sheer joy of being alive, with parents who doted upon them,

The feel of the sand, and the sun, and parents adoration, seemed so full of joy and happy memories in the making.

Ah to be wealthy, and able to afford Real Estate, in that small but beautiful community.

Dreams are free.

New life is always a joy, and this little boy will bring enormous love, I am sure.

Don McLean: And I Love You So.

Tides

Amidst the tides and swirls of grief, I try to take time to see the rainbows.

This one came across the Valley, where we live on the hill.

It really was spectacularly bright and glowing. I wondered about the preponderance of rainbows we have had lately, across the Valley.

We saw a bight one the day after Gom passed away, after the thunderstorms, which had raged for the whole weekend while he was dying. I told my children, perhaps it was Gom, trying to tell us not to be sad.

We have had one of the wettest Julys ever, with the wettest day in 23 years. We have also had the coldest July day, for 8 years.

My heart has been frozen for many of these days, and some days it is an effort to just get out of bed.

I have discovered grief has Tides. Some are Seventh Wave tides, and some are just too overwhelming to name. They sweep over me when I least expect them, and there is no predicting how each day will be, or where the tide level will take me.

My Nice Neighbour, who has also lost her husband has taken me to the beach, on a glorious sunny day. We walked up part of the Skillion which is above the sea, at the end of the beach.
I saw a fisherman catch a fish, on the rocks far below, and I could tell, it was too small to keep. He looked up as if the say. "I will not keep this one." and he released it back into the water. I felt strangely comforted at the sight.

Mrs N N and I went out for lunch today together, and we consoled each other and laughed together about some of things we feel and notice.

There are bizarre things that strike the mind, when least expected.

The Undertakers, who came to take Gom, wore the most ridiculous striped trousers, with odd waistcoats.

We decided they looked like the Circus Band Members, and half expected them to bring out their trombones!

We asked each other why they would dress in such strange clothes. We finally decided it was to give family something to laugh about, at a time when everything was too ghastly to be fully realised, and stunned numbness was the predominant feeling.

My health checks have been completed, and it seems my heart is fine... well,  physically, so I am told, and I have the pictures to prove it.

There are ridiculous things happen, such as, after cancelling Gom's credit card, and having to watch it being cut up ~ which was very confronting, somehow~ I get two letters in the mail 2 weeks later, with  new Credit Cards, one for each of us, in shiny mint condition. I just cut those up myself. 

Perhaps once all the Legals are tidied up, and sorted out, I might take a trip to my homeland, to stay with family.

I am making no plans or decisions.

I just take a day at a time.

Solace

I am not sure why I named this post Solace.

At present, there is no solace, other than I am a scooped out hollow, which is frozen. Every now & then a hole appears in the ice, and it flows out as hot scalding tears.

I wanted to write to thank you all for your wonderful kind words of support and your love and kind thoughts. I wish I could thank you all personally.

I have not been much on the computer. My days are often blurs.

I have had a small stay in hospital, a mystery infection of some sort, but now 'they' tell me I am to have cardiac investigation. Like Les, I was glad to get out of Hospital.

I feel I am too raw to write about much.

I will just say, I have double grief, as little Leo is no longer with me. I cannot write about that for now, and I grieve as much for both of my "Leos". Some time I will mingle their ashes and they will always be together.

Gom's favourite quilt I gave him. He spent his last days constantly wrapped in it's vibrant, warm love.

Here he is with his beloved mate.

He gave me these beautiful roses, to thank me for looking after him. We had yellow roses for him at our private goodbye.

 Here he is with his beloved Daughter, on her wedding day. He was so proud he was well enough to walk her down the path to be married. He was so ill, and so tired, he did really well.

Here we are together, just before I took him home to put him to bed. This is the last pic of us together.

This is where it all began, 45 years ago. 

There seems to be no solace for me, at present.

My Beloved Brother and Sister came from New Zealand and spent 6 days with me. I did so appreciate their visit. Family are a type of solace, I know.

Scott Joplin, Solace

R.I.P. GOM.

Gom passed away peacefully on Sunday night at 1.30am. I am so glad I was holding his hand, when he took his last, peaceful breath.

He had a horror of hospital beds, and of the thought of strangers washing him.
In the end none of that was needed, and we managed to care for him right to the end. We had wonderful help from our Doctor. He made 5 Home visits to medicate Gom, and make sure we were alright.

A Palliative Care Nurse came on Sunday afternoon and fitted a syringe pump, to keep Les completely comfortable. She is a kind, loving, and very empathetic Nurse, and I appreciated her lovely hug as much as everything else she did and helped us to do.

Les did not wish to have a funeral, so we are having a Private Cremation on Friday afternoon, for Family only.

His little dog Leo is so confused and seems to search constantly for Les's return.

Friends, both near and far, are comforting and supporting me as much as they can.

It all seems unreal, really. I have to just take it an hour at a time.

We were married for 45 years, and it is going to be so hard to live without him.

Thankyou for all your caring thoughts you have sent us.

When we first met, GOM always played this song for me, on the local Jukeboxes in Cafes.

Dusty Springfield, I Only Want to Be With You.

Teo Toriatte

A song from Queen seems to be appropriate.
I hope you hear the words.

We are living with "End Stage" which is very confronting.
And very fearful, for all concerned.

I know so many of my friends have already faced this journey.
I know so many of you have managed to survive this hideous trasition.

I do not not know how we will ultimately traverse this phase.

We take each day as it comes, and read our part from what transpires in any given hour.

We have support of Palliative Care. We have had ACAT assessments done, advising of high levels of Residential care.

We are yet to have the Community Nursing Care to visit.

I wish to care for Gom, in our home, untill the end of his time. We have been advised this should be possible.

There is no further medical intervention or investigation to be undertaken. He has ceased his Transfusions, and is visibly weaker, each day.

I try for strength each day. I have lovely support from our Son and our Daughter, and also our Granddaughter.

I have a recently bereaved Mrs Nice Neighbour to support me.
Our new GP is so supportive, it is comforting to know we have his backing care.

Queen, Teo Toriatte
http://youtu.be/YG0AUw8B7Yk

Looking for the Treats..

I am looking for the Treats in Life, free or otherwise.

They do not seem abundant at present.

We have learnt sad news of Gom's decline, which cannot be reversed, and which is progressing much faster than we had thought.
I had suspected as much, so requested an appointment with the Specialist, who confirmed my worst fears. There will be no trip to the City Hospital, for life improving procedure.

Gom had a choice of continuing on with transfusions, or ceasing altogether, along with 2 other choices. We were told that life expectancy would only be 4 to 6 weeks, if he ceases to be transfused.

I cant describe how badly I wanted to cry, and scream. I forced back the tears, and put on a brave face, for Gom's sake. He took the news quite calmly really. I suspect he knew in his heart, that his time is short.

We will just have to make our last days together as lovely as we can. Gom is aware of what is happening, and the fact that our days together are numbered now. We have had some really nice time together, recently, talking about how things will pan out. It is nice to think we can still have a laugh together, in spite of the grim outlook. We have both found humour to be a great salvation in times of extreme duress, and distress.
Times in our life together that have rocked our foundations.

Today was a Free Treat, in a way.
Gome slept late, and when he woke, he got up by himself, and came to tell us he wanted to take me/us, out to lunch, for a Mother's Day treat.

We were astounded, as Gom has been so tired and listless, it was amazing to see him so determined to go out. He managed to shower and dress himself, and even put his shoes on, without help.
Our son took us to a Club, and we had a lovely lunch, with Gom eating more than we have seen him eat in 4 days!

When we came home, he was happy, and warm, and he said he had really enjoyed our time out, and he seemed content.

Palliative Care is needed, we are told.  I have contacted an Aged Care service for help. I will not be holding my breath for when either will eventually 'get around to us'. This area has the reputation as being what is termed 'God's Waiting Room'.

All I know is, we are determined to keep Gom home, with comfort and his beloved Leo, as long as we possibly can.

Sadness washes over me in engulfing waves, that threaten to drown me. I must remain strong for Gom's sake. He told me he will go into Hospital, if that will make my life easier. It breaks my heart, to think we lost a year of such closeness, because the Dr's we had would not medicate Gom when I asked them, as he was so changed and irrational.  Our new GP is incredulous we have suffered so needlessly.

No looking back, and taking each day as it comes is the best we can do now.
Queen, Long Away.

This Day

This day, I stopped to admire the Free Treat of my lovely, soft pink, single petalled Camellia. Not a raving beauty, but somehow a simple soft, and complete flower that brings me much joy. It reminds me of the delicate Briar roses, that grew wild in the dusty little streets, close to the Railway line, in the small country town where I grew up. We used to pick the roses, in those dusty roads, and admire their simple beauty, the hint of perfume. They were best left to their prickly traling branches, as they soon wilted, once picked.

We have an extra Long Weekend, here in Oz, and also New Zealand, because of Anzac Day, 25th April,  falling so close to Easter.

I have blogged of Anzac Day before. It is to commemorate the fallen, who fought in World War 1 and World War 2, and also, all the other Wars which have claimed the lives of valiant Soldiers, Sailors and Air force personnel,  not least being the hideous, (and I believe wrong,)  Vietnam War. Service men and women, were altered irrevocably by these Wars, and indeed, any War, and perhaps, it was the 'lucky' whose bodies died.
Many survived, to spend a living hell, for the remainder of their 'lives'.

Their shattered bodies may have healed, but the mental scars and the long term health issues haunted them, and their families, forever.

I did not intend a dark post.

Here is Honey, absolutely refusing to look at the camera. She badly needs a grooming, and a haircut- or wool clip, to be more exact! She reads me just thinking about the scissors, and she scarpers!

Here is Gom, sitting in his chair, with his beloved Leo at his side.
Gom is not travelling too well, these days. He is very tired and very weak at times. He needs regular transfusions of blood every week.

He does get a lot of comfort from his little Leo, being so loyal. There are mornings when I fear to look at Gom, but when I see Leo there, I know he is looking after him.

Yes, yes, the socks... Gom refuses to wear slippers. He says only 'Old Men' wear slippers, and when I gently suggest he has become an 'Old Man' he scowls.

I am managing better now, with support from our new GP. I still have rough days and sad days, but Gom is calm now, and I can better cope with the highs and lows of our lives.

Some folk suggest I pour a little too much 'personal' into the blog. Perhaps I do, but I have learnt my blog ~friends can be a very supportive and comforting bunch, in times of dark despair!

Oh to be Morty, who can abandon himself with utter ease. Here, he is so relaxed as to be almost limp! What a great art.

We have had mixed weather for the Long Weekend. It has been very warm, then quite cool, and we have had a few cold mornings, Cold early evenings, humid midnights, and a few sprinkles of showers. Four Seasons in one weekend! 

Quilts on, quilts tossed aside! I had a sleepless night last night, so I read a lovely book, and this morning, I finished it!  It is 'Jacaranda Blue', by Joy Dettman, who is an Australian author, and I recommend it to anyone who loves an Aussie story, with true colour. To me, her stories rank up there with Tim Winton, who is a fantastic Aussie Author.

Reading has become a luxury, a stolen pleasure.

Roy Orbison, Blue Bayou

The Last Summer of Childhood.

Do you remember your 'Last Summer of Childhood"?

I think I do.

It was that last Summer, when you felt goofy enough to still be childish, but knew you were about to be expected to begin to behave, as an Adult, with 'decorum' and 'maturity'.

Though, really, what did those terms mean, in the REAL world, as you knew it??

It seemed to mean, you could no longer wade through mud, in creeks and gullies, where you had spent time, frittering away hours, as you built a dam, to stop the full flow of the creek. Then, when you released the dam, you watched with fascination, as the water gushed to rush free of all restriction.

You pulled clay, from the banks of the creek, and fashioned it into models. Ducks, bowls, and various weird looking creatures.

You waited, naively,  for the clay figurines to dry, in the hot Summer sun, then you painted them, and glazed them, with domestic varnish, you stole from your best friend's Brother-in law's shed, in the hope they might prevail, in some space and time, in the future. Some little portion of this last, magical, childish Summer may exist, long after all had changed.

Your observations of the sun, gleaming through the delicate spider webs. The beautiful silver strands so delicate, yet so strong, but ultimately,  so very fragile. Swept away, with the sweep of a hand, or the rush of an insect, too strong to be captured, in that fine web.

Your fondness for the moss, the delicate ferns, that grew on the side stones of the creek.

How beautiful they all seemed, as if viewed through an exaggerated magnifying glass, a type of 'diamond view',of perfection,  to last the rest of your days of living memory. How precious the memories were, to be stored, and savoured, as a milestone in your  life.

The trips to the Beach, which was a local "Resort", of the day, which were so exciting., and so intimidating, as the promenading young men, swaggered and strutted up to the Milk bar. The songs on the Jukebox, which made the heart ache, and seemed to offer an adult world, filled with romance, and 'love' everlasting.

The final 'School Holiday', spent at an Aunt and Uncle's farm. The secret excitement of the invitation for a 'date' after the holidays, when you would have officially 'left School' and become, somehow, an Adult!

The secret Admirer, someone a little older. How daring. How exciting to think, you might finally enter the realm of Adulthood. How exciting to think he might consider 'dating' an ex school girl!

The music all seemed to poignant, the dew on the grass seemed to cast such gems of light, in the early morning sun. Like the shades of your best friend's mother's cut crystal, in the light of the sun, through the afternoon rays, of the open curtains.

Or, your Aunt's diamonds, in her ring, that shed such beautiful shafts of light, in the sunshine, at the shearing shed.

After all, it was all Illusion. It was the Last Summer of My Childhood.

Tussles with..".Bastards Inc"

I suspect, we have all had our tussles, with 'Bastards Inc'. You know the ones. They seal the tops on the small plastic pots/jars of "Fruit Jellies" ~ supposedly for children to take to school, to use as snacks at Recess, or whatever they currently call the morning/afternoon  tea break.
It seems to me, no person with average intelligence, or strength, can open these sealed treasures, without the aid of a blowtorch, or a superhuman thumb!!

'Bastards Inc' design the seal for the tops of 'Child Proof' bottles of pills, that must be accessed by the aged to keep their lives in continuity, and prevent the 'children' from access to same. If the Elderly could only open them, that is!! I am sure the young could open them as easily as a hot knife might cut butter!!

One of the worst 'Bastard's Inc" inventions, is the telephonic system that uses 'Voice Recognition'.  You get asked questions, and you are asked to reply, (" I will understand your answers"  the disembodied automated voice intones,) with a choice of several 'responses'. Too bad, if your answer does not tally with one they expect to 'hear'. The stupid machine keeps saying "I am sorry, I did not hear your answer" and the stupid question will be repeated. Finally, when you are screaming into the phone, ~always remembering not to utter obscenities~ you may, if you are lucky, be transferred to a 'live' person.
I use 'live' here with quotations, because they, also, may be automated. They claim to be 'live' but the truth of this is often doubtful. The responses seem so far removed from human understanding.

Oh Yes! 'Bastards Inc' are very much alive, and, I suspect, hoping we will all give up, and Abandon All Hope.

'Bastards Inc' inhabit our daily lives, with increasing prevalence. I suspect they are hoping their stealth and silent takeover tactics will not be recognized.
How sad I feel at the realization that this must be true.

The false lulling into acceptance of their infiltration. The meek acceptance of statements, that,  upon later analysis, seem to be nonsensical, and totally irrational.
All the work of insidious 'Bastards Inc".


Here, is the disdainful Morty, who would choose to lie about, in seemingly carefree ~ or should that be, arrogant~ abandonment.

He is one very strange animal, and is not in the least inclined to be affectionate, or cuddly. Should one attempt any type of closeness, he is just as likely to attack, with bites, and scratches, as purrs, or even acceptance of attentions.

He has adopted our Son's stored Leather chair as his preferred daytime hideaway.
As our son says, he has "Mortified" the chair, with a nest of shed hairs, and his daily slumber.

Ah, the Mortification of an adopted feline, who is so affiliated with 'Bastards Inc'.!!

However, I still love him, unconditionally, and will continue dialogue with him, and the feeding of him, upon his loud demands.
There is no doubt that cats command their own agendas and their own proud indifference to the wishes of their 'staff'!

Returns

She watched the plume of the dust, travelling up the long, dusty road. It seemed to melt into the smokey-leaved Eucalyptus's, to be absorbed by their branches, and mottled, peeling , trunks.

When his Ute screeched to a halt in her front yard, she was standing, defensively, on the front veranda, her body stiff with anger, and a little, hesitant, expectancy.

She watched him leap from the Ute, his dusty jeans faded and torn. His shabby boots and faded shirt, some sort of defence, or a vulnerability, to her eyes.

Her heart went weak, at the familiar shabbiness, but she had a sudden stab of strength, and she faced him defiantly.

"What are you doing here?"

Not so much a question, as a statement.

"I thought we might talk."

"Talk seems little,... a little, a lot too late?"

She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, and felt a sudden surge of angry power, as if, she was in charge of this encounter.
She crossed her arms in a protective gesture, and glared at him, as he stood, a little indecisively, with one foot on the bottom step of the veranda.

"There is nothing to talk about." She swayed a little when she said this.

Her body, surely, seemed about to betray her. She thought 'I refuse to cry, or break down! No one is to see the depth of my grief! Not even his father!'



Their marriage had seemed to gradually sink into nothingness.She could not define any moment or time when it had begun to fray, unravel, and fall apart.
They had just seemed to become separate entities, with silent feelings and sole thoughts, emotions, ideas, and perhaps, even dreams.

Their son was the only cement, which had kept them together. He was a bright light for both of them, and he could bring them together for a time, when he broke into animated discussion of his school achievements, or his running victories.

His face would light up, and he would recount his running  triumphs, and make them both laugh, to hear how he planned the strategy of his races. He was so swift and true to his passion for running, they both stopped to listen and applaud. They did their best to attend every race he was in, to watch his triumphs, together.



When he drowned, aged Fourteen, in the Damn on their property, no one in the community could believe it. He had been such a strong swimmer. Such a strong Athlete.
How could this have happened? Where had his  parents been? Had they not known he was swimming in the damn?

The self recriminations for both of them had haunted them. There was no coming back from this tragedy. They both blamed each other. They both blamed themselves.

There was no road back from this.

There were no returns.

Ghastly Choices.

We are faced with some ghastly choices. Though, strictly speaking it is not "WE" who are faced with this dilemma.

How does one decide if one wishes to continue to be treated, for an essentially terminal disease?
Not my decision to make. However it is now Gom's decision.

His quality of life has been diminishing, and he is faced with possible death, from withdrawal of treatment- which he has expressed as being his chosen fate- or a procedure, which may give him a significantly improved, balance of life. It cannot be life saving, but alleviating the value, and quality, of remaining time.

It is a difficult choice, and I cannot decide for Gom. He has to make this choice for himself, based on how he feels.

Having seen him at his lowest ebb, and also having seen him after transfuions, and other life saving procedures, I am not convinced he is ready to 'throw in the towel', to use a sporting term. The basic hope for life's urge for continuance seems to spring eternal in the human heart.

He will face weekly transfusions, for the forseeable future, unless/until he has the procedure. If he does not have the procedure, he can choose not to undergo further transfusions. Surely, the beginning of his demise.

If he has the procedure, and it is unsuccsessful he will be back at square one.

We have a date, for consultation for the procedure, and that is the next step of the way.
I feel sure he is prepared to undergo the procedure, and essentially, is not ready to call it quits,- yet.

I was very pleased that his Specialist phoned me today, and gave me a chance to ask questions we had previously not had the opportunity to discuss. He is a very honest and forthright man. I appreciate his honesty. To me, it is a form of respect.

We have a new GP, who seems very caring, and optomistic.
I am having further tests re my health, and also, ongoing treatment.
I am pleased to learn there are new techniques, which will not involve painful,  blood tests, which involved invasive taking of blood from my uncooperative, shrivelled, shy,  and extemely painful veins. I could drink a gallon of water, and my veins would not want to see a needle of any description.

Why do the 'blood takers' refuse to listen when I tell them where the best site for obtaining blood, is located? Why do they insist they 'know better' and take if from horrible, painful,  sites involving my wrist and thumb? GRRRRR!!

I feel ashamed, to be complaining about our lot in life. We have dear friends, who are undergoing far worse ordeals than we currently face.

******

An Indian Feast, designed by a creative eater! I do love Naan Bread!

Cloud Banks, tinted by the sunset.

Cloudbanks at the fading light.

The sky is a neverending panorama, to be enjoyed by all who might care to view. A Free Treat!

Global Crises

Our particular little crises, seem to pale in comparison to the Global disasters we are witnessing.

Our beloved Christchurch, virtually destroyed.

Now.  the hideous Earthquake in Japan.

We  watch the events unfold, in fascinated horror. We feel ashamed at watching, but we want to know the magnitude and we  feel for the suffering of so many.

We are quietly disgusted at the Media take upon it all. The incessant braying about the 'death toll'.?? What the Hell is that about?

They should surely be celebrating the living? Incomprehensible.
As our son would say; 'People are "No Damn Good"!'

Our thoughts and hopes are with the folks of all Earthquake affected areas.

We consider ourselves 'lucky; to just be dealing with personal 'crubbish'!.
I shamelessly stole this word from Kitty,  who is a long time friend and blogger. I am sure she will understand, and forgive my stealth.

Gom is very unwell, once more, and I have had some further health issues. I refuse to address those at this time, and just want Gom to get the attention he needs.

I confess there have been moments when I have wished I could just drop dead, and not have to cope with anything, anymore!

There have been moments of such sadness, when we said Goodbye to our lady GP, as she has retired to look after her husband, who is forced to retire, due to his ongoing health crisis.
They are facing the return of her husband's Cancer. Everyone who knows them is  utterly devastated by this news.

They have been such dedicated and caring Doctors, and they are/were a dying breed. True, Family GP's.

As our lady GP said, no one wants to work the long hours they did. No one wants to have to care, when they go home. Nowadays Doctors want to work out of Medical Centers, where they can "piss off home and forget it all" when their shift is over, to quote our lady GP. She is so right!

The beautiful receptionists, who were always so courteous and kind, and understanding, as they 'knew us' and knew our particular problems. How they will be missed!
So many receptionists seem to be Rottweilers or Pit bulls these days.

This is the way of the world now.

I have to add something happy to this post.

This is my Great Nephew, who has just turned Three, What a gorgeous boy, and Hope for the Future.

Sheryl  Crow, & Sting.

Brief update.

Gom is home once again.

We had him for 'Gate Pass' days but now they tell us he is not 'bleeding out' fast enough, to qualify as a Patient Transfer. He will have to be referred as an Out patient, and it is our responsibility to see he can attend.

I cannot drive that distance, nor can we travel by train, as suggested by some Doctors. Gom is almost blind, and I am crippled, so train would seem to be no option at all.
Our son had offered to take us, but that may entail his having time off work.

We had been offered a lift with our Son In Law, but seeing he had his hand broken, in the line of his employment, he cannot honour that promise, as he is in a Plaster cast, and a great deal of pain.

The Hospital has a record for hanging theiir employers out to dry. His Human Resources Pitbull representative, today, demanded to know why he was not reporting for work! What the Hell?? He is in pain, and has his hand in a plaster cast, awaiting assessment for surgery to repair the broken bone in his hand. I find the whole procedure ugly, inhumane, and obscene. The HR woman suggested to our daughter, that he needs to look at changing his job! How bloody inappropriate does this woman have to be, before she is sacked? What a horrible individual. No allowance for stress, or pain. A heartless person, just 'following  protocol', to quote her. 


We had learned, earlier in the day, that our GPs are closing their Practice as of this Friday. I cried. I was shattered to learn the male, husband, Doctor.  has his cancer returned. His wife cannot possibly cope with a patient load of 1,000 plus. and I understand, wishes to care for her lovely husband.  We are in mourning for everyone, as they have  become friends, after 12 years of association.

We have had to scramble to find another GP. since we both seem to need ongoing care.  It seems we are lucky to find a practice,  which will accept us. How sad to think our Health system is so bankrupt.

We know Gom will need further tranfusions, but we are told it may be arranged for him to have regular transfions... whether he needs them or not! Hah! What a crock of rot!!
We had previously been advised he bleeds out approx one Unit every 3 days.
The sad fact is, when he comes home he inists on doing stupid things, which I am sure, accelerates his blood loss.

As I told the Dr, the mild, sweet old man they see in the Hospital bed, is nothing like the "Mr Poos", we have to deal with at home!

A very draining and exhausting shouting session ensued today. He went out to sulk, and has not spokent to me since.

Too much info, I guess. but I am at the end of patience, after all the cooking, and visiting, I have provided for him, while he was in Hospital.
He comes home, and turns into Toad. from Toad Hall!! GRRR!

Bryan Adams, Please Forgive Me.

So Fearful

These are harrowing times.
Gom has been hospitalised four times, since 23rd Dec, 2010.

He loathes Hospital, even though the Nurses are all Angels, and he is given great care.

He mistrusts the food. He tries to get me to eat his plates of food. I do not take up his offers. I do love vegetables, which he does not! (The Pumpkin Soup was divine.) I do eat some of the Sweet potato, and the beans, which are very nice. He does not wish to taste the Veal something, though it looks, and smells, nice. The Chicken Apricot is rejected, as is the mashed pototo, and the beans, once again. (which were actually quite nice, & tasty!!)

His neighbouring bed mate has eaten all of his food. Gom has left all but a slice of bread, and a Yoghurt.

As this is his fourth admission since late December, and they feel he will keep on needing  further treatments, involving transfusions and long hours spent in ED, and consequently various Ward Admissions, 'They' wish to perform a 'Proceedure" which could halt the condition. IE, the bleeding into his stomach.

This 'Proceedure' cannot be performed at our Local Hospital. It involves transfer, and admission to RPA,  (I believe this stands for the Royal Prince Alfred) which is a large Sydney Hospital. We have trepidatious feelings about this transfer,  and subsequent surgery,  As I post, we have not been given a great deal of information, about this proceedure, or the risks involved.

A Nurse finally told us, that the transfer would not take place this evening. We had been waiting for the Doctor to give us a further update.
I spent the whole day at the Hospital, awaiting word, on what was to happen to Gom. Late evening a Nurse finally gave us some answers. It is the only failing in the system.
We are not advised often enough, or, in enough detail. The Doctor who came to advise Gom of the Proceedure, did not elaborate, nor detail what might be involved.

I was horrified to learn that Gom would be discharged in the Central City location of this Hospital, after treatment and perhaps subsequent after care.l. I cannot possibly collect Gom from this location. I will have to get either our son, or our son in law to collect Gom. It is all very distressing.

I am fearful that Gom won't return from this proceedure. On the other hand, he is very tired of all that he has had to endure, to remain, even half agreeable to us, as a family, I sometimes think Fate may hold the answers.... or perhaps, the winning cards.

Tomorrow is another day, and we are hoping for some ansers, and some positive news.

Life, at present is a SeeSaw, and we have no way to gauge the outcome.

Queen , You take my breath away.

Friends are SO precious!

Recently, because of events outside our control, we have been taking stock of who, and where, and, perhaps, what, we are.

This my beautiful daughter, and I, on her wedding day.

I was so happy to share in her day of Joy, as she married the man of her dreams, and she feels, the man of her destination.


These next photos are from long ago, ~ and may seem inappropriate.
Perhaps I wish to post them, in affirmation of friends, who are gone, and perhaps no longer in our world.

This next photo, is of myself, with a lovely family friend from childhood, who has since died. We were fond friends and shared many memories of growing up together.

Here is a photo of myself on the left, and my BFJ in Nelson, when we went Apple Picking. What a revelation that turned out to be!! We shared our daily grind with an Author, and his beautiful  Nordic wife. They were appalled at the conditions and housing we had to endure.

This photo of BFJ and I, taken in Neslon, would seem to indicate the toll the fresh bread, and the fresh apple diet had taken on us!

 I am sure I had gained a good 10+ pounds. in 'old Money' so to say!!
My goodness, just look at those eyebrows, before I destroyed them..! Those chubby cheeks!!




This next photo is of a lovely Australian "'Gentle Man." He proposed to me, and I I did not accept. He returned to Australia, and proposed again. He was/is a lovely man, and I hope he found the happiness he deserves, when he returned to Australia, without me.

Our friends, truly are, where we find them.

Hope for the future, for all our friends, and all our relatives, and all those we love, who have touched our lives with love, both near and far.

*************

There has been a recent birthday for me, and friends came to celebrate,

Not least of which, was my wonderful, beautiful, halfsister, from NewZealand. It was like a special treat to have her here. She is the image of our mother, and her every experession and mannerism, is like watching our mother, recreated, here on earth. When she left, it was like losing our mother, all over again.

She phoned me today, to give support and love. She is a true, and loving sister.

I am so lucky, with my family, as they are all supportive in our crises.

My dear old 94 year old Uncle rang me to wish me Happy Birthday. He is a lovely man, who never fails to say, "I love you girl!!" His wife is equally wonderful as she had embraced us all as 'her own'. I am blessed with a lovely, loving, and wonderful family, who are both relatives, and friends!

************

I have had wonderful messages of support and strenghth. over the past few days. We have had phone calls from friends in Christchurch, in resonse to our calls.

We just hope everyone is safe.

Love and thoughts your wayXXXXXXXXX

Too Sad For Words...

I have found it almost too sad for words, to post about the Christchurch Earthquake.

How does one write about the destruction of a dearly loved city?

I remember all the good times I spent in that beautiful City.

My Gom was born, and grew to Manhood,  in that City. Our children were born in that City.

I spent very many wonder-filled months in that City, with BFJ, who is my best friend. We laughed and cried together in that wonderful, mysterious, beautiful City.

We ran to work, our black stockinged legs flashing,  through Latimer Square, which became a Triage Center for the wounded in the latest Eathquake.

We smelled the wonderful, woodsmokey air, in the evenings, as we ran home together, from nights out, when we chose to keep our own company.

The Street we shared a flat upon, is now, largely,  destroyed.

My BFJ would now be a widow, ~though not as a result of this earthquake~ but the time has flown, and memories remain, of times, with joy, and laughter. Times as young mothers, young wives. Christchurch was a unique and magical City in many respects.

Memories of times spent with our children, upon the banks of the Avon River. Rambles in the Botanic Gardens, which were, effectively, our back yard, when we lived in the Inner City Hotel.

That Hotel is long gone, pulled down, because of instability, and a lack of interest in restoration. Our Country Hotel is now gone, as a result of the previous Earthquake.


A photo of the rubble left, after the Earthquake.  This was once the Christchurch Anglican Cathedral, which was a landmark and the Central focus of the Square, of Christchurch's Central City. BFJ and I once visited on an Easter Sunday. Goodness knows why.

Another shot of the destroyed Cathedral. Many lives are believed to be lost in this Cathedral, when the earthquake struck.

The Earthquake did not discriminate between Religions. This is a shot of the Catholic Basilica, which stood on a steet BFJ and I once lived upon.

These are before and after photos of Christchurch Cathedral.

We seem to have no anchors left in that beautiful City, we love, and have loved, these many years before.

We have managed to contact most of our friends and the few relatives Gom has left. All say they are well, and safe.

We are nowhere near this disaster, physically, but mentally, it has left us all feeling very sad, depressed, and fearful, for the future of this once glorious city.

Our personal tragedies, and day to day dramas, seem to have little importance, compared to the magnitude of this tragedy.
We still have our lives, and we still have each other.


Chris Bolton. How am I supposed to live without you.

Little Wisdoms.

Little Wisdoms, or Life's Free Treats, come in many guises.

One of my little Treats  was upon alighting from our car, I spied the Dandelion in full bloom and full seed.

As I mentally recited, "One year's seeding, Seven year's weeding."

Little SG leapt from the car, and picked the full seed head, declaring.

"Oh Look! An Opportunity for making a Wish!!"

And he blew the little parachutes, loaded with their precious cargo, into the world!

 I decided then and there, I needed to change my perspective and look upon the positive side of life, as it is presented to me.

SG is a source of wonder to us both, as he comes to visit, and spend time with us. He is so aware of the world, while being so aware of all the technological changes that are taking place. He has a very soft heart, and is a very loving, and rather gentle child.

On the other hand, he can exhibit quite ruthless thoughts about various things, when he deems it necessary!
"Well Nanna, dont worry about the Cicadas that Morty caught. Perhaps they were meant to die!"

**************

We made a mercy, or therapeutic, visit to Gom, on his last Hospital  stay- well the Xmas/New Year stay.
We loaded Leo into the car, and took him to the Hospital.
As I led Gom down the corridor to the outside door, he guessed what he was about to see.

His beloved Leo, who was somewhat freaked out at first, and he tried to leap into my lap! However he realised where he belonged in the end, and when I took Gom back to the Ward, he had tears in his eyes. He did declare he was so glad to have seen his 'Best Mate'.

Leo is his constant comfort and companion.

Leo has behavioural problems that our son disapproves of. I do too, but I can see, that out of Gom's narrow, & somewhat miserable life, he needs the comfort of Leo in his sad, diminished, 

 life.

*****************

On lighter note...

What is it, with me and hats??

I find I hate hats.

I have loathed them since I was very young.

I knitted, but refused to use, hats for my babies. Luckily, it was not really cold when they were born, so hats were not necessary.

I look at women, wearing knitted hats, crocheted hats, which I find very ugly.

Not the acutal hats, but the hats on heads.

I look at Pop Stars, who wear all manner of hats... why?

What are they hiding from?

Is it a way of proving your identity?

I find the male fedora, panama,  or pork pie,  or caps,  of any description to be hideous to my eyes, upon female heads.

And, I must add, offensive to my eyes upon many male heads, also!

My son tells me to loosen up.

Hats are choices.

I just fail to get the message? the meaning? the statement?

How do you feel about Hats??!

Bread, If