If I can have a holiday so can Obama for crying out loud...

When is a hypocrite not a hypocrite?

When they don't say anything....is the answer.


I am going to comment on something sort of political. Not my usual fare but I just saw something on facebook that really... and I mean REALLY... got to me for its sheer irrationality.


OK,  so some character posted a photo of the Obama family heading off to vacation on his blog.  Then a bunch of people, some of whom I know, shared it on facebook. 

The caption on the photo reads as follows:


"The Obama family is taking a 3 week, 4 million dollar vacation to Hawaii while the rest of us worry about the fiscal cliff. Is anyone else as outraged as we are????? While he's asking us all to share the "wealth", he's taking a major vacation on our dime!!! Oh, the irony!!!!!"
  
 So,

Question: Since when is a working man and his family NOT entitled to vacation time?

Answer: All working people are entitled to vacation time.  Slavery was abolished.

Question: Is the man that posted the pic going to take a vacation sometime this year? 

Answer:  Of course he is.  Maybe even more than 1.

Question - does the man that posted that pic and caption pay taxes?

Answer:  Well, he sure seems to have a lot of time on his hands.

Question.  If Mitt Romney was elected would he have been allowed to take a vacation? 

Answer: Of course he would.

Let's keep going......

Question: If Mitt Romney got elected would his (insult deleted) supporters expect the secret service to go too and protect him?  

Answer: Of course they would.

Question: would they complain about the cost?

Answer: Nooooooooooooooooo!

Surely the man that runs a country 24/7, is at everyone's beck and call, is blamed for everything and never thanked deserves a few precious days with his family. I never heard anyone complain when little Dubbya went off to his ranch in his too big hat and too spangly boots during that other global crisis.

So ... new questions.


Would you prefer to have a president of the US who was rested and refreshed?

or

 


would you have a President that looked like this..... ?



















and had his hand on one of these?

Seriously.... some folks need to hear themselves......

...make mine lazy date loaf....

Well if this isn't the easiest cake I ever made in my entire life.  And why can't all of life be this simple and this successful.

4 ingredients plus some hot water - but I didn't have one of them so I used 3 ingredients plus some hot water.

Now go figure how you can make a cake with so little stuff and effort.  Is that what life is really about but we keep missing the point?  Maybe we - and by we I mean I -  over-think, over-plan, over-complicate every little thing - so that life becomes a concrete cross crushing us with its weight.

Recently I got the news that I am to have both my knees completely replaced.  After I got over the initial revulsion of the image of my legs being chopped into 3 pieces and having a surgeon hammer a titanium joint into the ends of my leg bones I realised something......  it was the happiest news I could have gotten at this very dark period of my life.  New knees.  A gift from the gods. 20% reduction in my overall rheumatoid pain, the ability to kneel down and garden again, the ability to go up the stairs without crying tears of pain and frustration.  All of a sudden the very thing I have been putting off for 5 years seems to be the best thing to be happening.  It is probably a part of my need to get my life back on track.  

So much has happened this year and culminated 4 weeks ago in my being assaulted by a client at work who had a psychotic break right in front of me and proceeded to throw 5 heavy desk chairs at me.  After I locked him into the interview room I had been in with him we evacuated our building and waited 11 minutes for the police to arrive.  In that small window of time - 11 minutes - he got out of the room and proceeded to systematically work his way through the office and throw every single desk chair at every single computer.  He also threw chairs at 9 plate glass windows, smashing them and damaging 3 of my fleet cars parked outside in the process.  Everyone was upset and as the manager of that site it was my job to coordinate everything including the repairs over the next 5 days - 2 of which were the weekend.

I still have a few injuries - some deep bruising and I think my left thumb may be fractured because every time I use it I get a sharp shooting pain there.  Now please don't worry it will be x-rayed tomorrow.

So as I have worked my very large ass off to get my office and staff back up and running I learned another bitter lesson in life.  The staff don't give a rat's arse about me.  Hardly any of them didn't blame me for the incident. They wanted to know why I had interviewed that client in our office instead of somewhere else... where else I have no idea.  Most of them didn't even ask me if I was OK.  I worked 12 hour days to get new computes, chairs, windows and a security guard.  I worked on the days they were allowed to go home and I worked on the weekend.  No one has thanked me.

So a week ago when the orthopedic surgeon said 'well, madam, we will have to whip those old joints out and get you new ones", I cringed then smiled. "Madam" indeed!  My only condition was that he NOT do them both at the same time.  I am not good with bedpans!....something to do with retaining that last shred of dignity women in general are deprived of early in life with their first Pap test.

Ah... the cake has cooled enough to come out of the pan.  Smells divine.

In a mixing bowl place 375 grams of dates.  Sorry my American friends I am not helping you with conversions - it's time you all joined the rest of the metric world.

1 cup of hot black coffee - made with 2-3 teaspoons of coffee - no sugar. I used 3 teaspoons being the coffee junkie that I am. Can use Decaf if you like.

Pour the hot coffee over the dates and allow to stand for about 2 hours.  You can chop the dates if you like - I didn't.....lazy remember?

After 2 hours throw in one heaped cup of Self Raising flour - the one that already has the baking soda and other stuff in it.

Mix it with a fork.  Now the mix needs to look like a sticky mess rather than a runny batter or bread dough. If it feels too dry just add a few more drops of water.  If too runny add a dash more of flour.

Pour it into a greased and lined loaf tin.

Bake at 170 Celcius for 45 minutes.

so.... here it is again

375g of dates
1 largish cup of very strong hot black unsweetened coffee
Stand 2 hours
throw in a heaped cup of Self Raising Flour and mix.
Bake @ 170C for 45 minutes.

Done.  Did you notice there is no sugar?  Yet the cake is sweet from the dates.  A life lesson.  Don't add sugar and you can still enjoy it.

The fourth ingredient - in case you haven't fallen asleep yet - was slivered almonds to go on the top of the cake before baking.  But therein lies another life lesson - we don't always need the embellishments.

Of course I slathered some butter on my slice while it was hot - well you gotta have some fun.......

It was simple and it tasted brilliant.

And the journey back from the floom continues!

Summer arrives downunder as you can see from this pic of my walnut tree.  So coffee and cake under the tree for me.

Spring has Sprung.....

...siting here eating breakfast.  Bagel with butter and vegemite, hot coffee and a fistful of pills.  The usual fare.  It is 7.30 am Saturday and I have been up for an hour because I don't want to be late for my appointment at the Hospital where I will have an MRI on one of my knees. No biggie.

Outside the Sun is bathing budding trees and flowers in light - unfortunately if you go outside it is quite chilly.  But there are no clouds so from my vantage point I can pretend it is warm out there.  It is certainly so in here.

I love winter and I love my garden in winter... but what is it about blossoms and buds?  Why does the heart swell with happiness at this sight?

My grande dame - the walnut.  Reaching for the sky and preparing its new leaves.

 My popcorn bushes.  No idea what this plant is.  Grew them from cuttings and every year they pop like this.  On the left is our baby pear tree. 

An azalea that did not thrive in the ground.  I put it in a pot a few years ago to bonsai it but decided to just shape it into a ball and now look....

Last year I didvided my orchids. One of them was a huge round mass - now here you can see all the new plants.  There are 3 kinds of orchid in there - the pale pinks, a yellow and one trailing on the ground behind the sapling is a greenish colour.

That sapling is my claret Ash.

 Last year's Mandarins - still a few left and the tree about to erupt with the new crop.....

It's been a long hard winter.

Ok time to go and get Magnetised......

Ave Maria......

It's rant time.

This 'Floom" that I am trying soooooooooooooo hard to shake off is not my fault.

In February this year I told my boss that I have rheumatoid arthiritis and that I didn't know how much longer I could keep up the pace.  I also told him I was OK for now but that it was important he knew and understood that sometimes I will get tired and a bit cranky.  I explained about chronic pain but also that I know how to manage that.  I reminded him that the only sick leave I have taken in the past few years was once when I had the flu myself and a couple of times when I had a bout of vertigo and had to be taken to the doctor ( a remnant of the virus).  There was also the time I had a few days off when my husband had to have reconstructive surgery on his face after being wacked in the face with a pool cue by an inmate at work.  I told him that I had a 2-year plan.

I was honest.


I did the honourable thing.


I ended up in a meeting with the HR guy being told I might have to be performance managed and that they would help me to find another job.

Three weeks later in March I am back in there and being offered an alternative job.  This new role was one whole classification level below my current level, close to $30,000 p.a. less pay if it was full-time.  But it was not full-time. It was 0.8 - or 4 days per week.  It meant I had to travel a further 10 kms to work each day and would now have to pay for parking and use my own car.  In my current job I have perks - a car for one thing.  Bleeding money I was supposed to take up a project position with a woman NO ONE wants to work with because she is a lazy, arrogant bitch.  "Oh don't worry" they told me - we would maintain your current salary for 3 months ( gee thanks!). 

My manager was talking it all up to me and I was trying to keep a lid on the Vesuvious that was my rage.  24 years in this department.  I have worked my way up... and I have W O R K E D !!!!  24 years and my 34 year old boss is trying to put me out to pasture because I told him the truth about my medical condition.

For the first time in my life I understood what it means to be disabled and how the prejudice can shatter your world.  My mantra in every conversation with him since then has been " I have a physical disability, there is nothing wrong with my brain!".

I confess it sucked the life right out of me.

Prior to this I had taken my 10 months of Long service leave.  I had started a blog, joined facebook and had fun and rest.  I had forgotten all about my all-consuming job for which I am on-call 24/7 365 days of the year.  I had found new friends and re-connected with some old ones that I had missed so much but just didn't have the energy for. I sent time in the garden and discovered photographing it was wonderful fun.

I went back to work on 30 January 2012.   By the end of February the floor of  my professional world had started to crumble.  By Easter my husband had cancer and faced the loss of a kidney. In April I am physically and mentally exhausted.  I get the flu again - badly.  In May I am trying to get through each day stifling sobs of frustration and rage.  I see an ad for a secondment in a rural office doing the same job I do here in the city.  I applied.  I got it.  Of course I got it. I am good at what I do and everyone in this department knows it.  They couldn't believe their luck.  They paid for the accommodation so I could stay up there all week.  My husband and son were supportive.  We cooked and froze meals for them.  I went to the country and was welcomed for 8 weeks.  I loved it.  They wanted my opinions and they actually asked me to teach them things.

In mid-August I come back to my regular job.  My replacement had left 2 weeks earlier.  He took my vehicle, a great 4-wheel drive - brand new - and left me another one that was dirty inside and out and a sedan.  My boss decides he doesn't want to deal with it.  It's a boy's club I guess.  I tell him that was the only car that I could get into and out of without wincing in pain.  He doesn't seem to care.

I am getting madder and madder as each day and week passes.  I have cleaned up most of the screw ups and backlog that was left for me.  I have cleaned up the car.  I am back on top of everything at this office and I am again doing things that all the managers are supposed to be doing, but are not, and then some.  I make a comment to this effect one day when I find out that I am the ONLY manager who provided feedback as requested on a draft document.  I say well if I am the only one I should get a pay rise. The response "I thought it was part of your job description."  My reaction?  "Well then if that's true then the other managers should get a pay cut!"  He is not amused.

Well .... I AM NOT AMUSED!!!!

I am pissed off spectacularly.

And.. as if all this is not enough... I have to sell my house.  Why?  Because it is 2-storeys and big.  We can't look after it with me not being able to do all the things I used to do.  I am heart-broken.  All those pics of my garden, my flowers and trees will be all that remain of my 17 years in this house - my dream house.

I am devastated beyond words.   Some days I feel as if my chest is going to explode.  Other days I feel like I am smothering.

If you are still with me during this rant with no pictures, don't worry.  I am not one to give up.  I just need to spend a little more time licking my wounds.  Then one morning I will wake up and BAM!  Things will start to happen.... fast.  That's how I am.

Till then I will go on.  Every day I will help my staff with their various problems, professional and personal (They think I am a very wise old woman when they don't hate my guts.  LOL.)  Every day I will do my job better than most of my peers.  Every day I will deal with the spectre of cancer that came into our lives this year. Every day I will climb those wretched stairs and every day I will tend my garden for someone else's pleasure in the not-too-distant-future.  Every day I will take my pills and every Friday I will stick that needle into my thigh so I can walk more freely.  Every day will pass and I will marvel that it did so.  Every day I will look out of the window in the morning and track the growth of my plants.  Every day I will hug my son who has become a man yet takes the time to kiss me on the cheek.  Every day I will look at my husband and wonder how we dodged that C bullet and every day I will wonder if we really did. 

Every day will be a new day and every day has the potential to be a marvellous day.  I read a book last week called " the hour I first believed" by Wally Lamb.  It's amazing how much the human spirit can endure and still prevail.

So I will prevail.  Like so many of you.

Please - no pity. That's not what this is about.  I am just voicing the struggles that beset so many of us.  What an amazing thing the human mind and heart.  Just when you think you can't take any more you look up and find that you can.

Rant over....

Speechless...(Warning - Adult content... and the 'f' bomb))

I find I don't have a lot to say these days.  Maybe I am overwhelmed by the plethora (thinking of you Kim) of verbal diarhoea on Facebook.

Is no one else frightened by the sheer and overwhelming volume of images people are re-posting (aka 'share') on Facebook.

There seems to be nothing but hatred and venom oozing from almost every picture being put up.  Now I am not talking about people's personal snaps of their not-always-very-pretty kids in leotards, or the always-very-cute  pics of newborn grandkids, or the I-can't-believe-I-actually-cooked-this pics of food (of which I am very guilty), or even the too-cute-for-their-own-good pics of animals doing strange humanlike things.

Or this...



No.

I am talking about the ones that advocate shooting people or hurting them or belittling them.  I am talking about pics that tell me to fuck off for no other reason that I am allegedly not a good enough friend.  Problem is they never tell us what we are supposed to do to qualify for the group of friends who don't have to fuck off.

It is upsetting - do they mean ME?



This one was posted by someone I have not met but who is a colleague of my husband's.  She sounds so nice. Always cooking and sending love messages to her friends and family.  She seems to work hard and is always doing stuff - Cleaning, washing, cooking, looking after her hubby who was seriously ill for a while.  Just the sort of woman I search in vain for to befriend.  But then she posts things like this and I gotta wonder.  Just what the hell am I supposed to do to fit in?










The day before she posted this........

So she loves dogs but hates people???

Now either she is schizo or I am.

 






Another friend - and I do  know this guy - seems so mild mannered and then he posts this.... no points for guessing he is an American.  But then so is my hubby.. Ok now I'm scared.  LOL.

I mean ... this is a prayer for fuck's sake!!!!!












 How about this one from a friend who never swears.  Truly she never does and then this appears.  Is the whole world fake???? 

Is there anyone out there who is genuine and says what they think out loud instead of only posting it on Facebook.  I gotta tell you I am starting to wonder. How am I to judge a friendship if on the face of it people act all warm and fuzzy with their kiddies and their pets and their home cooked meals and then advocate for the gun lobby or post abusive/offensive placards.  Someone please explain it to me.  I really wish people would tell me to my face!  I mean of her 357 friends which ones are the assholes?  And if none of them are then why feel the need to post this.  Ergo some of them are.  And if I am one of them then why not tell me to my face.   I have just put myself into a logic loop - anyone know what that's called?

I am skeered peeeples!!!!!!!
 
 Now I may have mentioned before that I am not religious, or even spiritual, but what I am is intelligent.  I am so intelligent that I know enough to know that I don't know if there is a God out there or no. Notice I capitalised the word God?  I do it out of respect for those who do believe, since I want them to respect me.  Anyway, my point is that if there is a God out there then s/he is sure gonna be one pissed off deity when s/he notices what we are doing down here on planet earth.  God ain't gonna like it that we kill each other, rape each other, shoot each other and subject each other to the endless torture of opinions - just like this one right here.

God isn't gonna like that we claim to be believers on Sundays, Easters, Wedding days, Christmases, fasting days, prayer days (or hours in some cases) etc etc etc and then only remember the violent parts of the 'holy' words.


I am thinking that when I get to 'heaven' (insert appropriate paradisical location) I am gonna be one of the few people who can look God in the eye.  And I haven't even lived a flawless life.  What I have lived is an honest life in all its ugliness and sometimes all its beauty.  With my luck however, I will get to heaven and there really will be 72 virgins waiting - all women.  I'll be teaching them how to knit.......some men.  That is if I can get them off Facebook long enough.

 The moral of this story is.....
 

Cited by the Writer's Studio on, guess where, Facebook!

 ... so please don't shoot me or unfriend me just because I don't fit in.  Thus have I spoken!


p.s. I luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuv facebook!!! Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

The floom is lifting....

It dawned on me last Wednesday 1 August 2012 that I was in a deep deep fog.  Literally and metaphorically and really really! 

I was driving down the highway on my way to visit  a smaller office that I am supposed to be managing as well while I am here on secondment in the countryside.  I go there once a fortnight.  Two hours up and two hours back.  In one day and at my age it's a stretch.

Last Wednesday was to be my last trip up there since this wednesday is my last day out here and I go back home to my regular home and regular job in the city.

So it was strange to me that after 2 months doing this I should hit the highway on this one day and plunge straight into this morass of early morning fog.

I snapped this pic from the car as I slowed to 40kph from 110kph.  It's not obvious from the pic but I couldn't see much at all as it swirled around me.  I confess I was scared. Not used to driving in fog.

Every few seconds a humungous truck would come roaring out of the floom (that's my contracted work for fucking gloom - sorry to the expletive sensitive amongst you).  It rattled me. I slowed to 30kph. It went on forever it seemed.  Where the hell was the sun? It was 7.30 already.  I was almost in tears.

Everything had gone wrong that morning.  I was not supposed to be making this trip alone - I was supposed to have one of my staff with me so we could share the driving.  But her little son was sick overnight and I let her stay home - yes I let her, I could have insisted she come and she would have.  I had been awake since 4.30am for some reason.  Completely unable to sleep.  So I was tired. And now I was in a white hell.

I kept going, heart in my throat.  I zeroed in on the little white centre lines and started counting them.  Whenever bright lights broke through the floom I held my breath and concentrated on staying on my side of the road.  When the lights passed with a whoosh I let out my breath and tried to get my heart rate back.

Now don't think I am normally such a baby.  I'm not.  But this floom was more than morning mist.  It was in my head too.  And it has been for several months now.  My martyrdom stopped working for me.  My energy sapped and my delusions popped.  Suddenly I am at the scary end of my working life, I nearly lost my husband and my kids are adults.

The scary end of working life is that part when your bosses are wondering how long it is before you snap or breakdown. The scary end is also that part when you are thinking exactly the same thing.  It's scary because you have been doing it so long and wishing you were anywhere else that you did not pave the way for the 'anywhere else'.  Now, it's here.  End of working life looming....house too big and too many stairs... kids old enough not to need me anymore and OMG suddenly I don't know what I am supposed to do.

So I run away to the country to work.  And I end up in the floom.

10 minutes later I emerge and I have made a decision.  Several actually.

I decided:

1. I am too old for this shit
2. I have to sell my house
3.I have to get a different job.

In that moment I wanted to turn around and go home.  I didn't.  I only had 6 working days to go at this secondment and I had to see it through.  So I went to the other office - did my thing and came back.  On Friday I went home to my own house and spent the weekend doing things for my daughter and some gardening.  I hadn't even been outside for weeks. Monday morning I drove back up here for the last 3 days. I finish on Wednesday and then I have 2 days off.

Today my daughter turned 30.  She told the world that I am her 'miracle worker'. She told the world that she loves me.  My son tells me he misses me and my hubby is sulking till I finish this wretched secondment and come home.

My path is clear now.  The future awaits.  It's gonna be a bit scary and a bit stressful to make so many changes in my life.  But, with the decisions made, the burden and the floom begins to lift.

As I sit here in my pretty little apartment, paid for by my employer, enjoying the last 3 days of the solitude that I so yearned for I begin to feel a little bit of excitement.  I am glad I took this secondment and I am glad that it will be over soon.  I needed to prove something by doing it and I did.  I proved that I can do it, but now I am satisfied that I no longer want or need to. It has been a tough lesson.

Kimmy - thank you for the constant messages of love and friendship.
Kat - thank you, I missed me too.
Al - thanks for the wordplay.

Bang Bang....

Huge identity crisis this past month.  Need to redefine a few things.

Will be back when I feel like I can contribute.

but first I need to shed my old leaves............

Have to decide if I really really really want to be this writer who has lived in my head for sooooo long.  Something is holding me back.

Time to wrassle the demons to the ground.

Back soon.

Birds in my garden....

NO energy for much other than brief meaningless posts these days.  But these parakeets are in my garden every day at the moment, eating my apples..but I don't care.  They are stunning creatures...


Autumn rolls on towards winter and my mood is not getting better, neither are my lungs.  Hopefully I will get better soon and start to feel human again....

Forced hiatus derails blogger!

Since the nasty business with hubby and his kidney cancer I have nosedived into the flu and find that 5 weeks have passed with not much blogging.

As I sit here hacking up a lung and fretting about the work that will pile up for me back at the office, I rail at the lack of interesting content on the TV - for which I pay the princely monthly sum of $120 and thanks for nothing Foxtel!!- and I fritter away my day trying to find something to do that doesn't require lungs pumping air at a normal pace.  THAT would be too much to ask.

Needless to say I am the world's worst patient....even when I am my own nurse, or maybe because of it.

I also don't want to pollute the intersphere (my new made up word to go with all the other ones) with crap blogs, so I haven't really been trying.  Seems like I don't have anything interesting to say at the moment that doesn't involve cancer or flu.

Today is a gorgeous Melbourne autumn day.  So I staggered outside to take pics of some of my plants.  I have no idea why the garden cheers me up so easily.  Maybe coz it doesn't talk back.  Perhaps because it doesn't ask me for anything .  Or is it just that it exists despite me so there is no pressure.

I don't know but I like it......

Golden rules of pregnancy and childbirth..

Was having a chat over coffee with a girlfriend reminiscing over the kids and, more to the point, about the process of having them.

Every time I have narrated the births of my kids everyone gets a few belly laughs out of it.  Oh don't worry I'm not gonna do it here.  But as they laugh I always wonder what part of the process was so amusing to them because NONE of it was fun for me till the next day.  Ok sure I went back for seconds...but that was not my fault....that was genetic imperatives steering me to the cliff edge.  And before anyone thinks it, I know I have 2 beautiful kids and would never change a thing.  I just wished someone would have told me the rules.

1

The 'mask of pregnancy' makes you look like a 12 year old frecklehead.

2

Braxton Hickses 5 minutes apart are ACTUALLY labour.

3

That puddle of water on the floor underneath you doesn't mean your bladder leaked....there was some kinda bag the baby was in... like those bags you roast a chicken in. They both break apparently.

4

Those breathing exercises don't work when you have hubby on one side and a friend on the other talking over your head about cars while a human melon tries to split you in two. Swearing, however, does help a little.

5

The nurse telling you to NOT push doesn't only happen in the movies. It also doesn't work.

6

Babies only weigh about 2-3 kilos so that other 30 really is all YOU!

7

The direction the chicken head falls onto the goats entrails at the azimuth of the something-or-other DOES NOT indicate the sex of your baby.  Next time use a human sacrifice for accuracy.

8

The placenta is the other baby-sized thing they didn't tell you would have to come out as well. 

9

Post partum time is the second time in your life people will be acutely interested in your bowel movements. 

10

Once you have had a baby in a room full of people, all looking at your nethers, you will never be shy again.

My not-so-young-any-more babies --->

...and the season turns...

The trees change colour and the cat could care less.

Jeff is recovering and I look forward to snuggling up in the winter looking out of this window in front of the fire.

Three months in to 2012 and we have been through the ringer.

But ohhhh how lucky we have been.

Thank you to all who sent their prayers and kind words.  We made it through.  But I will need a bit of time to find my stride again.

Meanwhile the garden hasn't missed a beat.

Comedy of terrors....

Thursday 15 March 2012

Question. 'Doctor will you need the CT scans on the day of the operation?'
Answer. No.

Wednesday 21 March 2012 3pm.

Question to Assistant: Will we need the CT scans?   We have them in the car just in case.
Answer: No.

Wednesday 21 March 2012 4pm.

Question to Admissions officer: Will we need the CT scans?
Answer:  What did the doctor say?
Response: He said no but....
Admissions Officer: Then you won't need them.

Wednesday 21 March 2012 5pm.

Nurse on Ward: Did you bring your scans?
Answer: Yes but the Doctor said he won't need them.
Nurse: Oh no problem then, leave them there.

Wednesday 21 March 2012, 9pm.  I get home exhausted from a day on the road and in the hospital with Jeff.  I park the car and take out my bag.  I look at the CT films in the boot and pick them up.  I hesitate and put them back in.  I shut the boot and know that Jeff will laugh when I tell him.  Apparently I am a stress head.

Thursday 22 March 2012, Noon and the mountain of pre-op paper work  begins.  Tick Tick, question, check.

Nurse: Have you got the CT scans for doctor?
Jeff: No
Me: Ummm yes I have them in the car.  Shall I go and get them?
Nurse: Might be a good idea.
Jeff. But the doctor said he wouldn't need them.
Nurse: Oh then don't worry.

Thursday 22 March 2012, 12.55pm.  Theatre staff arrive with a guerney and whisk a very pale and nervous Jeff off to theatre.  I settle in for the long wait.

Thursday 22 March 2012, 1.05 pm.  I am having a little cry in the private room we were lucky to get. One nurse comes in and offers me a cup of coffee.  30 seconds later another nurse comes in hurriedly.

Nurse 2: Mrs B, doctor needs the CT scans.   Where are they?
Me: In the car.
Nurse 2: Is it far?
Me: not for you guys but for me a 20 minute round trip (uphill no less).
Nurse 2: Ok Hurry!

Question: At what point does one scream??????

Oh well...all's well that ends well.

Surgery was successful and Jeff is recovering.  Still waiting on biopsy results but there is nothing I can do about that.

The sounds of silence....

The clock ticks.
The cats licks its paw.
The house creaks.
A truck brakes on the freeway beyond.

An engine rumbles for a takeoff at the airport.
A dog barks.
The compressor on the fridge starts a cooling cycle.
Another dog barks.

I listen to the whirring of the fan in my laptop and my fingers tap tap on the keyboard.  But when I stop and listen to the world around me there is no silence.  Only emptiness.

The house creaks again.
Above me I hear Jeff turning in the bed.  His sleep is restless.  Mine did not come.

The sounds of silence are shattering when sleep absconds and you are left with your thoughts.  Even thoughts make sounds.  A sigh, a long inhale and a slow exhale.

The clock ticks.

Now I notice the hum of the modem on the desk.  I hadn't noticed it before in the busy-ness of life.

The cat sighs and twitches in its sleep.

The clock ticks.

The sounds of silence are evidence that the world goes on with or without you.

The clocks tick, modems hum, fridges whirr and the cat now snores.  The wind chimes in and branches scratch against the window.  In the midst of all this silence I am alone.

It will not last.  In a few short hours the world will wake again and we will be one more sleep away from  a day that will prove difficult to endure.

A plane flies overhead - these are the international flights departing after midnight.  Hundreds of people will be looking down at the city lights and have no clue that I am listening.  And I am listening. But I do not hear what I want to hear.  I do not hear God telling me it will be alright.  I do not hear it.  And I do so wish I could.

*****

The great cook off....

As I was chatting with a girlfriend over coffee today I lamented as to how I was going to cope this week when hubby has his operation.

I just couldn't think how I was going to have meals on the table when I didn't even know where I would be each evening.  My son can cook but it isn't fair for him to come home from Uni and have to cook for us for whatever time I get home from the hospital each day.  It just seemed a logistical nightmare.

I had a 1kg pack of mince thawed to make a bolognese with and knew I would freeze half of it.  So there were 2 meals.

Well, says my friend, what other meat do you have in the freezer?

And so the big cook off began.

2 packs of chicken thighlets and a pack of stewing beef were whipped out of the freezer and dumped in a sink full of lukewarm water.  NO I was not gonna kills us with bacteria - not THAT dumb.  Just wanted them to soften so I could break up the meats.

I put the bolognese on to cook and left it on low.  Started on the stew and had that bubbling pretty soon.

Next I remembered that I had most of a store bought roasted chicken left from a lazy dinner yesterday.  So all that nice meat became the filling for 7 chicken pot pies.  Had pastry in the freezer from the last time.

Finally the chicken became french onion chicken casserole. Normally I make this with a packet of french onion soup - but as luck ( MY luck) would have it I had run out.  So I made it up.  Chopped lots of onions, added 2 chicken stock cubes, threw in some frozen leftover Xmas ham and carrots and voila..... french onion chicken casserole a la Marlia!.  There WAS a little more to it than that but you get the gist.

I had everything cooking at the same time by 3.30pm.  My plan had been only to make a cake and bolognese today. 

Interestingly, cooking while chatting with a friend made the time just fly.

Next I decided we needed snack food.  So out came the mixing bowls and my famous cinammon apple muffins were under way.  There are dozens of apples on the ground under the tree and there is no better way to use them up.

50 muffins later I am done.  Everything is cooked.  Everything is cooling. I only wish I had taken a picture of the sink!.

We now have meals for the week and muffins for dessert or snacks.

Once everything cooled the tupperware got a workout.

I can get 7 meals out of this lot with either a salad or some pasta or rice on the side.

Heated Muffins with ice cream or custard for dessert and we are set.


I am absolutely exhausted but happier than I have been all week.  I remembered a vignette from my childhood when Sunday was baking day and the house reeked of the smells of greek sweets.  Most of our sweets are either drowned in sugar syrup or dusted with sugar. Either way they keep for months.  Something to do with the lack of refrigeraton in mediterranean classical greece.  We still make our sweets the same way thousands of years later.

But my mark on the world is my apple muffins.

Wish you had smellavision....Mr Wonka let us down on that score!


Now it is 7pm Sunday night.  Work tomorrow and Tuesday and then the big day dawns.  Admission on Wednesday and the operation on Thursday.  But I'm ready!  No idea how Jeff is feeling but this domestic blitz has left me feeling a bit more in control and therefore a bit more composed.  Now I can support him better.

Oh and for those who counted - there WERE 50 muffins...just that some accidentally broke and fell into my and No. 1 son Jeremy's mouths...honest! They really did!

....and if you believed that you'll believe anything...hehehehehe

Diagnosis C

Ok so now we know.  Cancer.  The word should have exploded from the doctor's mouth.  There should have been a collective human gasp enveloping us.  The floor should have shook and the walls should have shuddered.  Because that is what was happening inside me.

Instead.  The word was spoken softly by a man who has said it many many times, perhaps too many, to many many people...and again too many.

He said it and he paused.  My world 'contracted thus' and all I could hear was the whooshing of my heartbeat in my ears.  I remembered myself in a moment and reached out to hold Jeff's hand. 

All I could think about was what would happen to me.  Isn't it sad?  All I could think about was how I was going to tell his daughter, or how I would manage his recovery.  All I could think about was how I was feeling.

Then I looked at Jeff.  I saw the panic in his eyes.  I saw him sitting rigid trying to listen to the doctor and absorb the information that was now coming fast at us.

What a lonely time for the patient!  What a lonely time for the wife of the patient!

Now it is mid afternoon.  All the arrangements are made.  Most of the calls/text/emails to family and friends have been seen to.  Return calls/emails and texts are piling up.  Many will call tonight when they get home from work.  We have tacitly agreed a script just from hearing each other talk to others.  I wish I was at work.  I will go tomorrow even though the fear in my heart is overwhelming.

We may be lucky and they get it all.  We may be lucky that we never ever have another problem with it. We may be lucky.  But luck has not been my friend in this life.

no news is.......

no news!

A whole day on the road. Surgeons, CT scans, bloods and other unmentionables and we know nothing yet.

AND - to top it all off it is a long weekend in Melbourne so no results till Thursday.

AND - the surgeon cost us $170 just for 10 minutes of his time.  Though I confess we liked him until he said...'I don't want to get ahead of myself" and slapped 2 brochures on the desk called "Kidney Cancer" and "Treating Kidney Cancer".  I mean geez louise...couldn't ya save that for next week.  The second brochure comes with a DVD no less.  Prime time family viewing???  I want to do a piece on this prochure - it is really a prize - but not tonight.  Maybe tomorrow.

What impressed me the most about this guy? - apart from the obvious ( he's gonna maybe have to save my hubby's life) was his:

• hand made suit
• soft white hands
• immaculate office
• punctuality ( big brownie points for that - I mean he got there before they even finished processing Jeff.)
• Awards and Diplomas covering an entire wall
• alphabetised pathology pads ( I mean really and truly I kid you not)

But that was nothing compared to his assistant.  She was:

• Middle aged
• coiffed to within an inch of every hair's life
• made up like a pro - and I mean a professional not a you-know-what. NO Al Penwasser not even a professional you -know-what...LOL
• Crisply ironed shirt and pressed seams on her jacket.
• perfect nails - not stick ons
• and elocution that would put the Queen of England to shame.

and.......this is how she greeted him....

"Good morning Mr Harewood"  Mister...did you notice? That makes him an Associate Professer type Doctor - ooooooh are we impressed?  I was!  "how was your trip in sir?" she asks.  "Can I offer you a cup of tea?"  I ALMOST said yes thank you..... but somehow her puckered lips didn't invite levity at that moment when she was greeting her lord and master.

Truly, honestly, really that's what she said when he came in.  I had to do a double take and snuck a look up to the corner of the room for a candid camera. I mean what century are we in where an assistant actually ACTS like an assistant?

I wish MY assitant - the fictitious one I make up for myself when I need an ego boost - greeted me with a "good morning Mrs B would you like a cup of tea?"  And if she did I would know absolutely and categorically that I was dreaming!.

So, no news, is just that.  If I wasn't so darned tired I would actually fret a little.  But I am well past that just now.

See you in a few days I guess.....

Life is a game of DodgeBall...

So.... 2 days ago hubby comes home with a slight medical problem I had a lot of fun with at his expense.  But then it was the second time in 6 months so this time no mucking around and off to the doctor the next morning with him.

That was yesterday.  Doctor says "hmm we need an ultrasound".

So off to what should have given me more ammo for fun tonight with jokes about KY jelly in certain nether regions being wasted.

That was this morning.

Tonight I sit here trying sooooooo darned hard not to cry.  We have each taken a corner of the room and the big fat white howling elephant in the room has a name that starts with "C".

Out of the blue.  Out of nowhere.

A swelling in the groin = possible cancer on the kidney.  6 months ago there was nothing there. Now a 2-inch thing that looks like fairy floss - cotton candy for the Americans in the wings - is carcinoma-like.

Jeff is 44 years old.

We met on March 21, 2001 when I travelled to upstate New York to meet a friend - him.

He proposed on April 19 2001.

He moved to Melbourne to be with me in February 2002.

We got married April 19 2011 on our 10th anniversary from the first proposal.

I didn't want a relationship with a man so much younger than me.  I didn't want a relationship - period!  But he was persuasive.

I didn't want to lumber him with a woman 9 years older who might become infirm and need looking after.  I must be psychic because 4 years after he came here I was diagnosed with  rheumatoid arthritis.  Not a death sentence, but a life sentence.  After that I didn't want to marry him because I didn't want him to become my nursemaid. I am proud that way.

Now I sit here and I am scared to death.  Not scared that I will lose my carer, but that I will lose my husband.  After making him wait 10 years and not wanting to be a Mrs again - it is suddenly so precious to me.

My stomach won't settle, my heart is palpitating.  I am telling myself it will turn out to just be a cyst.  I am telling that to myself.  But then I remember how the ultrasonographer wouldn't let him leave and then came out and told him to go straight back to the doctor, right then and there, and handed him the films and a letter.

I joke to myself that it will be a false alarm and we will laugh tomorrow and then I remember that the Doctor said the 'c' word and dialled the Urologist right then and there and booked us in for tomorrow.

I am trying to stay calm but I just can't.  Kim met Jeff 10 years ago as he travelled through LAX to Melbourne.  Kim's daughter is at this moment undergoing chemo. I need to talk to her but she is sleeping right now.

I need to talk to someone - anyone - who is not inside the family. I don't want to panic the family but my face won't cooperate.

This time tomorrow I sooooooo want to be saying 'phew - false alarm'.  But I am so so so so very very scared right now.

One year ago, almost, I was laughing as we cut our wedding cake. I can't even remember why I was laughing now, but I was in a fit of giggles.  A blushing bride at 52, never ever having believed that I could ever find joy in life after my history.

Well the bottom line is this.  If it is a false alarm I will post late tomorrow night.  And if it is not.......well, I'm not religious but KAT I may need some of your prayers.

Not looking for sympathy my friends - but sooooo needed to unload this somewhere.  I have had a lot of friends and family succumb, I watch TV and hear all the talk.  But no one EVER mentioned the mind numbing fear that makes you nauseous and incapable of rational thought while you wait for the final diagnosis.

Kimmy - NOW I REALLY know what you are going through.

Fingers, toes and eyes all crossed for tomorrow.

I'm so tired I'm watching cricket.....

because the remote is too far away.  And by that  I mean I would have to actually stand up to get it.

I'm so tired that scratching my ass involves a hike to the kitchen to get a wooden spoon so I can reach around - reach being the operative word- even though....

I'm so tired I can't be bothered scratching my ass.

I'm so tired that I buzzed a staff member on the intercom to go and check my pigeonhole for the number of the last invoice I paid coz....

I'm so tired I forgot what it was.

I'm so tired that a walk around my garden involves stepping out onto the veranda and turning my head left and then right.

I'm so tired that today I didn't use the 'f' word even once - I just couldn't be bothered working up enough 'care' factor to say it because.....

I'm so tired.


But there is one good thing about being so tired - you sure do see things differently.  It is a whole thing about asking one's self  "does this really need to be done"?

And the answer is "No, self, it does not really need to be done". 

Now I live with pain as part of my existence these days and I can still push through it.  But yesterday I was floored by a bout of vertigo - not my first and for sure not my last- and I gotta tell you that when you are sitting at the steering wheel of a 6-cylinder company car YOU DO NOT WANT TO GET VERTIGO!

Yet I did.  The only saving grace was that I was just back from a meeting and trying to reverse the car into the carpark.  I so wish someone had taken a picture of it.  Little Miss Perfect left it at a 45 degree angle across two bays and a ramp.  I left it with the door open and my head hanging out as I barfed up every meal I ever ate in my whole life while the world reversed both its axes and laughed at me.  Fortunately for them - the 3 staff who were standing a few feet away enjoying a 'death stick' on company time - didn't laugh.  They just ran.

Why did I get vertigo?  Stress, weariness, stress, tiredness, stress and creeping infirmity.  Why did I get vertigo?  Because I just don't know when to quit.

I have been back at work for 5 weeks.  I have worked about 50 hours each week.  I am dried up and empty already.  I miss being home, I miss blogging, I miss not dealing with other people's personal baggage - I have enough of my own.  I miss my garden, I miss my friends.  I miss my kitchen and my chair and my laptop and my morning coffee.  I miss finishing the puzzles in the paper each morning.  I miss not having 6 meetings in a day.  I miss the quiet.

So if anyone was wondering - or had even noticed - why I am not blogging so much these days, read the whole blog not just the punch line at the end.

I just have to pull my shit together.  Especially since I just noticed that I have 2 more followers all of a sudden.  Thank you to them for for joining and thank you to the rest of you for keeping the 'view' meter ticking over even when I am not blogging anything interesting.

I am going to reorganise my head and my life.  Work sucks and so I have decided I don't want it anymore. 


Ok so I will by 10 Tatts tickets this weekend and cross fingers and toes......

In the meantime I am going to ...awww crap... I'm to tired!

The world is not always a nice place......but.....

.... I get home and look outside ......

Don't you Wi-Fi me!

 

I'm getting frustrated coz my iPhone keeps dying on me.  It's my personal mobile as opposed to my work mobile and I only keep it on in case of text messages.  The calls are diverted to the other mobile.  So, essentially it is excess baggage.  But it keeps dying on me and I don't like that.  I am not talking about 2 days later.  I'm talking about 2 hours later.

So, I decide to ask the question....I already know I'm gonna get a headache... but I was bored.

- Hun why does my iPhone keep running out of power?
- I dunno, what have you got running?
- Um, the iPhone.
- I mean what programs do you have running?
- Um, the phone.

*he sighs*

- Ok I mean is the Wi-Fi on?
- How should I know!

*now I sigh*.

- Here let me see.

*10 minutes pass*

- What are you doing?
- Checking to see what you have on this.
- Well what's running?
- The Wi-Fi.
- It took you 10 minutes to figure out the Wi-Fi is on?
- I was checking other things.
- Like what?
- Other apps.
- Ok and the Wi-Fi is on.
- Yes.
- So turn it off.
- Won't you need it?
- Why would I need it?
- I dunno, you might want to do something with it.
- Well actually I DO want to do something with it but....(you guys know where I'm going with this...)
- What if you want to check Facebook.
- I would use the laptop.
- And when we go out?
- When we go out I CAN'T use the Wi-Fi.
- So I'll turn it off then.




















Now I 'm wondering how the Wi-Fi got turned on in the first place.  Seems logical to me that if I couldn't turn it off I musn't have turned it on. Right?  RIGHT?

I'll save that chat for another day when I want to have a headache.



Ho Hum.........................................