Category: Love and Hope

Why can’t our Health Service be Streamlined?

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A friend of mine almost lost her life as a teenager when she came down with Guillain-Barré Syndrome. It has left her with long-term problems, which saw her admitted to hospital a few days ago. She was due to have an MRI so the doctors could gain an understanding as to what was happening neurologically, but at the last moment, it was cancelled, much to the frustration of both my friend and her specialist. It was a Friday afternoon and radiology had a backlog. She ended up being discharged, and asked to make her own arrangements for the MRI and a nerve conduction test. Now this lady is a single mother with no family support, and lives quite a way out-of-town.

This scenario seems to be common in the Australian health care system, and one can feel overwhelmed, attempting to deal with it all alone. Ideally, these tests would be done in hospital, and once the specialists know what is going on, the patient would be sent home with that knowledge, and hopefully ongoing support.

It is incredibly confusing, navigating our system! On the one hand, pathology may be free when requested by a GP rather than a specialist and on the other, scans may be charged when requested by a GP rather than a specialist. If attending appointments alone, you are likely to forget to ask pertinent questions, and incredibly likely to not retain important information. Having an advocate with you is important! I would like to see a system where the person is asked before discharge what support systems are in place when they get home. How far from town do they live? Do they have transportation? If the answers are in the negative, keep them in hospital to have the tests done in-house. My friend works incredibly hard, and I have been worried about her health for some time. Instead of having answers last Friday, she has been left to organize the tests herself, with a lengthy wait in the interim. We need a better system than the one we have.

Reaching Out

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I have spent a great deal of my life alone, dealing with stuff. I have been alone in court rooms, making police statements; before surgery and after. I have been alone in hospitals and clinics and in my room at home. Of course, being a writer is a solitary profession, and as a homeschooling mother, I have to organize social occasions and outings. There is something comforting about relying on yourself to give what both you and your child need, and yet it is frightening too! Big decisions are made by me. No back-up, just me. No pressure!

There is a low-grade depression which can bring forth ferocious social anxiety at times, making me wary of reaching out. I hadn’t seen a friend for many months, and had missed her greatly. I rebelled against my fear of being dismissed and walked into her work the other day. I was greeted with a big hug, not only from her, but also others I knew. It felt like a home-coming, and I realized how silly my fears were. I had felt as though I was stuck between worlds. One as a mum who travels widely in order for her daughter to see friends and attend classes, and then as a woman who feared she had lost connection to the community in her dear little town.

I see now that I can be both… I can hold onto both. I was afraid that I would be forgotten, left behind. Feeling brave, I texted other friends, and organized catch-ups. I have a list of treasured people I want to catch up with! The brain can tell us porkies as a way of protecting us, but one of the biggest fibs is that to retreat shall protect us. It won’t, we will just feel alone. I have been alone too much in my life, and it is time to reach out. Time to yourself can be reflective, a way of filling your cup. Socializing can too. It is about getting the balance right. Who do you need to make contact with?

Vivid, Wirrimbirra and how to talk with kids about terrorism.

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Psychologist John Blythe has the following advice on how to talk to kids about the latest horrors. I was grateful to read it before I sat my daughter down to answer her pressing questions. My heart is with all who have suffered as a result of these atrocities.

There is evil in this world, the energy denser than tar, and yet there is goodness, shimmering and light as gossamer. There is also beauty, and thank goodness for that!

We had a little walk around Vivid last week. Sydney can get bitterly cold this time of year, and the food trucks supplied us with chilli bowls, hot chocolate and tea. Scores of volunteers of all ages cheerfully directed the crowds, and strangers chatted and greeted one another. I would suggest going on a week night, rather than the upcoming long weekend, as it is far less busy!

Waratah

We also went to Wirrimbirra Sanctuary, where we met the following characters.

There is evil, but there is also light and beauty.

 

I went back…

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A friend had just moved to a place which holds many memories for me. I hadn’t been back to this town for many, many years. I had lived close by at one time, and produced art, selling to shops on the main strip. I would be up all night, painting and writing poetry to take in my trolley the next day. After I had visited my lovely people, I would go to a little florist shop, who would sell me the last bunches of flowers at the end of the day. The florist insisted on only taking a few dollars. My home would be filled with the aroma of roses and lilies for the next week, then the ritual would be repeated. Listening to the buskers in the outside mall, sipping coffee and eating organic fruit… Such lovely memories.

The memories which overshadowed the above were dark indeed. I was raped in this town at fourteen years of age, on a blistering summer’s day, by the river. I had to board a bus back to the clinic with the creature responsible… Years went by-years of difficult recovery-and there I was, selling my art in this town. I was having my coffee, listening to the buskers in the mall, when I saw him. He had already seen me, gazing at me through his sunglasses. I could feel his eyes, as reflective as oil-slicked puddles, reaching out to me. My chair tipped over as I instinctively ran. I was fourteen all over again. I locked myself in the ladies toilet, crouching down as he banged on the door. He wanted to talk. I sure as hell didn’t. I remained there until I heard my name called by the friend I had been with. The coward slunk away. I never went to this town again, after uncovering he was living nearby. It wasn’t the last I heard from him, though it was the most traumatic occasion.

I ended up having to leave Sydney for a time, a decision the police supported. My life went on a different trajectory; you could call it being rail-roaded. It felt peculiar to be back in the same mall the other day. Nothing had changed! The gum trees were still present, as were the buskers. The little florist shop was open, as was the book shop I used to frequent. I took deep breaths, the memories (of which I hadn’t told my friend), flooding my brain. I felt the pressure building. We stopped and had lunch, and as I sat outside with my friend, her husband and our kids, I had an epiphany. If I saw him today, I wouldn’t run. I would face him, challenge him, and he would be the one to bolt. I am not locking myself away anymore. With that, I once again became the young artist who sold her paintings to shops, and filled her house with flowers each Saturday. I came back for her. All the things he had commanded I couldn’t have-an adult  life, a child, my legs, my sanity- were on proud display. I walked back to the car, holding my daughter’s hand.

My Daughter

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My daughter made me this gorgeous cake for Mothers Day. I was banned from going into the kitchen the evening before, though I could hear the clanging and smell the delicious baking aroma streaming through the house. She picked roses for me, and brought me breakfast in bed. I am so very fortunate to have her in my life. Some parts of my life featured  dystopian imagery, though with her arrival, she somehow managed to paint over the garish landscape and procure a new palette. She never complains when I have to rest my back after a day of activities, and understand when I am in too much pain to do anything other than lay down. For all the pain that this life has procured, it gave me her, and for that I am eternally grateful. We spend 24 hours a day together, and yet I never tire of her company. Her humour is irreverent and we laugh, a lot! She is ten years of age, and has more common sense than I possess. I can’t wait to share the next ten years with her, along with all her young friends, who are set to take on this world. They will shake it up like it’s a snow globe in their hands, and what a glorious picture they shall create!

I would rather walk…

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She is the type of woman who sweeps over you from the feet up, criticising everything from your shoes to your handbag. She makes your daughter uncomfortable with her relentless grilling, and you feel exhausted by her relentless whining. You are never asked about yourself; how you are and what is happening in your world. You aren’t asked because it doesn’t matter to her. On a gorgeous morning, there you are, minding your business at the bus stop, when she comes along, insisting on sitting near you the whole journey. By the end, you have lost all your energy, and feel discombobulated. Its probably not a good portent, when you spot a person and inwardly groan.

The other day, I was waiting for a bus home after seeing my doctor. My spine was excruciating; lifting my arm had encouraged metal shards in my spinal canal  to give a sensation like being stabbed between my shoulder blades. It had taken five different medications to get a few hours sleep the night before. I just wanted to sit in silence, and get home.

Suddenly, she appeared, like a vulture. She immediately noticed that I had cut my hair. “What happened to you!” she demanded, pointing at my head. “I felt like a change,” I replied sharply. “Why would you do that? Why?” she hollered. And in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 the critique was coming. Bugger this! In desperation, I hopped on a bus that would take me several blocks from my place, rather than right outside my home. It was worth the extra walk, to get away from her. I am starting to understand that I have rights too. A right to peace of mind, quiet, and to be respected. I dont have to be polite and sit there and take such nonsense. All my energy has to be shared with my daughter and I will be damned if I will allow the likes of her to syphon it away with dribble. Not anymore. The look on her face when I suddenly hopped away and onto the bus was priceless.

When you wake up from a fitful sleep, you tend to have around half of the vigour needed to get through a busy day. If you subject yourself to miserable people, the tank gets drained further. Dont do it! Move or walk away from anyone who pulls this toxic stunt!

 

Bill’s Meeting with the Dalai Lama

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Bill Crews wrote about his profound connection and recent meeting with the Dalai Lama. It is simply one of the most exquisite, transformative pieces of writing I have ever encountered. Grab a cup of tea, sit quietly, and be prepared to be elevated by this blog piece.

Shining Stars

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Shining Stars was set up by some local friends, and is living up to its name! For many years, these wonderful people (including nurses), traveled in their spare time to Kings Cross in order to help the homeless, before moving the service locally. The founder of Shining Stars regularly receives donations at her home, and sorting through the clothes and toys, food and other goods is a job in itself! The other day, they posted a heart-rending description of a homeless elderly lady on their Facebook page. The end result was that this dear soul ended up with comforts such as a dressing gown and slippers, toiletries and a walking frame. Somebody even donated a suitcase so she could pack all her treasures to take to the home found for her. Finding household goods for a family fleeing violence, providing meals and outreach services and much more. These Shining Stars do it all. For further information, Shining Stars can be contacted here.

Royal Easter Show

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We went to the Royal Easter Show on Friday, and had a wondrous time. We uncovered that our little bird, Friendly, is in fact a White Pie Face. She would have won first place, for sure! She’d have loathed to be put in a little cage though, finding a way to escape in all probability, releasing all the other birds too!

One thing I love about the show is learning about new products about to be launched. We came across a group of delightful ladies, who managed to tame my daughter’s thick hair, without causing pain. The brush glided through her mane, and afterward, her hair was silky and shiny! Impressed, I bought the brush and their peppermint and lavender Nit deter and detangling sprays. You can find Tangled Kids Hair Care here.

I gave my daughter money, and aware that once that was spent, there was no more, she impressed me with her cautiousness. She decided to spend a portion on a gorgeous pendant, with a picture of where the moon was on the day she was born. It was a gorgeous blue moon, which glows in the dark. You can find the jewellery pieces here.

We bought hats and tried out Sydney’s new light rail system.

With my bunged-up back, my daughter decided against doing any rides solo, and instead we stopped to admire the fashion, animals, cakes, flowers and art.

Some people are outrageously talented!

My advice for getting the most out of the show:

  1. Download the Royal Easter Show App. You can select showbags and put in your preferences and date you will be attending. An itinerary will be selected for you!
  2. Download the Opal App! I typed in Royal Easter Show, and an alternate route to the way I intended to go came up. We caught a train and then an express bus right to the gate. So easy!
  3. Decide what you want to do and see before you go. You will end up walking around aimlessly otherwise!
  4. Get money out as soon as you get there, and stop for a cuppa, a snack and a toilet break before venturing further than the nearest facilities!
  5. Comfortable shoes are a must, and drink lots of water to prevent dehydration.
  6. Enjoy yourself! Stick to a budget and research showbags before you get there. This advice is imperative! You don’t want to be wandering around the showbag hall without knowing what you are intending to buy!
  7. Buy showbags  just before you leave!
  8. Enjoy yourself! The show has a proud history, and is a celebration of agriculture, creativity and joy.

Melbourne

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I recently flew down to Melbourne with a wonderful group of friends. People have raved about how beautiful Melbourne is, but it surpassed all expectation. From the moment we checked into our apartment on Flinders Lane, there was a sense of coming home. A lovely friend was minding my daughter, and I found myself abandoning the infamous mental list of things I must do.

Laneways were emblazoned with art, and a Romani musician delighted with his violin. Scented candles and essential oils beckoned you into little shops, and my mind was torn, as I decided on where to eat, and what to eat! There were so many choices! Within an hour of arriving, I had fallen hard for Melbourne. It’s architecture is stunning, and rather than dismantle its history, it seems to preserve it. It is easy to get around, and the public art is astounding! My soul wept with the beauty it was being fed. I stood in Bourke St Mall, silently remembering those who perished a few short months ago. There was almost a holy reverence at play amongst the crowds. We shopped and dined at Chin Chin, a funky bar/restaurant, which catered to our individual requirements with aplomb. We walked to South Bank, ate at cafe’s and pubs, and had an exquisite time. Melbourne is far cheaper than Sydney, that’s for sure! It felt as though it didn’t matter what your leanings, you could find your tribe here. I was sad when our three days came to an end, and it was time to fly home. Melbourne, you have captured my heart, and I can’t wait to come back with my daughter.