The other day I had a flu shot and a couple of days later I had an MRI with gadolinium contrast, and well we all know by now, I have daily injections of Copaxone for MS. Thus I think I am qualified (although probably not highly) to blog about injection type and the pain involved with each.
The flu shot was an intramuscular injection and it was injected into my left deltoid muscle... in my upper arm. I was at the doctor's surgery and I was with my kids, Chynna and Sabin and we were all getting the shot. Chynna literally begged to go first, but once we were in the nurse's room she quickly changed her mind. Poor little Sabin was the nurse's first victim. He let out a little yelp, but was very brave. I was next.
I think I pissed the nurse off, because I had to buy a flu shot from the pharmacy next store. It was super, just out of the fridge cold and I figured I would warm it up a little, so I took the shot of it's packet and put it under my arm. The nurse in question spotted the injection under my arm and gave me the, what the hell do you think you're doing look. While she said nothing, I felt compelled to offer her an explanation... the injection was cold, very cold, icy cold and that it would hurt if the close to freezing 10mls was injected into an arm. She tsked, clucked and puffed herself up like a blow fish before saying it only takes a few seconds out of the fridge to warm up to room temperature.... a few seconds my arse!! Clearly I never said that, because she was going to be the one holding the syringe in a few short minutes time. She was obviously having a bad day anyway as was pretty short and abrupt with us. Who knows, perhaps she had to lance a boil on some old lady's bum, or got stuck in traffic having to listen to Justin Beiber or woke up on the wrong side of the bed then tripped over the cat on the way to the bathroom prior to seeing us. We all have days like that, well perhaps not lancing a boil on an old lady's bum, but fortunately we don't have to shove pointy instruments of terror into another human's arm either.
The nurse lined up my arm and then stuck me with the needle - far out! I couldn't yelp or even scrunch up my face for that matter, as my daughter had to have her shot next, and I can tell you, she was watching me like a hawk... looking for any excuse to fall into a blubbering heap on the floor. Although I am not fazed about having injections, this one really hurt, especially because I couldn't release the pain via a yelp. I didn't have long to think about it though, because the nurse had seated Chynna on my lap and was placing my hands on her arms to hold her in place.
Chynna was whimpering. The nurse had the needle poised above Chynna's arm, when I saw what the problem was... The needle was like a toothpick - MASSIVE! I was pretty sure the nurse was going to stick Chynna with it only to find that it was poking out the other side of her skinny five-year-old arm. But before I could voice my concerns the needle was in and Chynna was like a screeching plank of wood. Just by her reaction I could tell the pain was about a nine point nine, nine, nine out of ten on her scale.
Chynna used to be amazing with needles. She breezed through all her immunisations without so much as a peep, until the four year old ones, which involved two injections. The same grumpy nurse as mentioned earlier decided in all her nursely wisdom, without consulting me decided it would best if she and another nurse hammered Chynna with the two needles simultaneously. So there I was holding my little slip of a child, when without warning they struck, banging the injections into to her arms so quick that her head and mine were left spinning. If they had of asked, I would have said, oh, one needle at a time is fine - she'll sit still for the second because she's really good with needles. But instead they ruined her for me... meaning that they are not the ones that will have to deal with her anguish at being injected and her lamenting afterwards until she’s all grown up and even then I bet she still asks me to go with her!
Luckily I had a three pack Twirl on hand to soothe our pain. I'm not sure about Sabin because he can't talk yet, but Chynna's arm and my arm were pretty sore for the next few days, I couldn't sleep on my favoured side in my usual sleeping position because my arm was so pulverized.
A few days later I had a scheduled MRI to check if the Copaxone I have been injecting for six months is having any modulating effect on my MS. In the past, I have had an intravenous cannula put in my arm for the super quick administration of the gadolinium contrast in between slices being taken... slices being the images the MRI takes. Instead this time I was in the machine on the narrow table with the head cage on when they pulled me out took my arm and said, just a little scratch then carefully slid the needle into my vein. Talk about feeling vulnerable, but it didn't hurt anymore than a scratch, which was a good thing because I didn't have much room to squirm. Then I was pushed back into the machine. It mustn't have been a big deal for me because I am pretty sure I fell fast asleep.
It's been about six days since the IV injection of gadolinium contrast and I still have a bruise at the entry site, quite disproportionate to the amount of pain felt.
By now, giving myself the daily Copaxone injections is pretty routine. Copaxone is injected subcutaneously into any fatty areas (I have a lot of those) just below the skin, usually in my belly, thigh or hip. Thigh injections I find sting the most... but they are nowhere near bee sting proportion as is most often reported on the web. Chynna was stung by a bee two or so years ago and she writhed around and squealed in pain for about an hour before she would take any medication. And she is still distressed by bees till this day. I definitely do not do squeal and writhe around every day after my injection because my injections do no feel like a red hot bee sting... not even in the slightest on the worst day. On the worst day I have a welt the size of an egg hanging off my leg (o I do exaggerate - slightly), but usually by the next day it has gone down considerably. Sometimes, but not very often now, after a couple of days the injection site might itch, but it's nothing some anti-itching cream can't stop.
My husband used to give me my hip injections for a long time because your hips are in a difficult position to reach, if you are holding an auto-injector that needs to be in the engaged position while you press the button to send the injection hurtling into your skin. I asked him to inject me the other day... and as he placed the auto-injector towards the back of my hip I flipped out. The thought of someone else injecting me now, is too much. I like to have control of where I place the Copaxone and when I press the button - c-o-n-t-r-o-l freak you are thinking... hey it's my fatty bits we're sticking a sharp pointy object into.
All in all, if I had to have an injection every day (woops, I do!) I would not choose to have the intramuscular flu variety - too painful for too long. As I am appraising injection types on the pain they cause I guess I would not pick daily subcutaneous injections of Copaxone either... but this would more be due to the side effects I think. I'm not saying there isn't any pain associated with subcutaneous injections of Copaxone - it's not like a bee sting... it is a sting that tends to be a little different every day depending on the injection site, but mostly they are pretty harmless. So I guess that leaves me with my experience of an intravenous injection of gadolinium... hmmm it was like a sharp scratch - not very painful at all. On the down side, I bet you would have to have a steady hand, there are only so many accessible veins you could inject into and well, people would suspect you were a junkie with your track marks.
This is my final rating of injection types (in comparison to each other) that I was given last week.
Intramuscular flu shot: 8/10
Subcutaneous Copaxone: 5/10
Intravenous gadolinium contrast: 2/10
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Sneaky Robbers
Not so long ago, I rolled over in bed and discovered my husband wasn't there, foggy with sleep my brain decided he must be in the toilet. I must have dozed off but when I woke again he still wasn't in bed. I looked at the clock, it was 3am. I think I said something like are you going to the toilet, but was shushed pretty quickly. Ryan was listening to something... and immediately I was awake. He came out of the ensuite, saying he had heard something next door, that the noise woke him up. He was at the window next, then he was putting on his shoes. He said there is someone standing across the road... I asked him if I should call the police. He, of course, said no.
In the meantime, while Ryan was getting dressed or something, I snuck an eye around the blind and sure enough there was a figure standing across the road, a little to the right of where I was standing, under street light. I guess he had nothing to fear... it was 3am and he had a pretty good view up and down the street. He didn't look very old - perhaps in his 20's wearing shorts, jacket and a hat. He was just standing there. It freaks me out to think that people, and probably people up to no good, are just standing out in the street, just metres away from where I am sleeping at 3am in the morning, all nonchalant but with a sneaky, cunning plan to wreak havoc. Where was my faithful dog, Humphrey you ask? Snoring in his bed that’s where! Obviously he has no wake up out of my slumber THERE'S BURGLAR'S A'FOOT 2nd sense!!
Ryan went to the front door with the keys, all intent on getting out quickly... but when you are in a hurry and it is 3am your fine motor skills tend to fail abysmally. That was kind of a good thing in my book and probably a good thing for the sneaky robber across the road as well. Instead, he huffed; I'll just turn on the light. I was still at the window and when the light went on, the sneaky robber's hand lit up, he was holding a phone. It seemed like he fumbled, because the light went out quickly, but then it was on again briefly. Dirty little lookout! Very quickly, he was joined by a second shadowy figure. There was a bag on the ground between them with the second person reaching down into it... putting something in I suspect. Then they walked up the street. They didn't run and didn't even seem to be in any hurry.
At this point, Ryan had managed to get the door open - probably not even 20 seconds after he had turned on the light. The moment he was outside I called the police. I didn't call 000, because no one was dying... yet, but instead called the police attendance number, which told me it was after hours and I needed to call another number. A woman answered...and I started with, my husband is outside chasing some burglars up the street. After a few minutes, Ryan returned, saying he couldn't spot them anywhere that they had vanished into thin air or lived on the street or had a good hiding spot. I had to go over my story a number of times with the woman on the phone, clarifying details and giving descriptions for about 15 to 20 minutes, all the time thinking, what the hell - the sneaky robbers are getting away.
Not three minutes after hanging up the phone, there was a police van out front, with a big (f**k off) sniffer dog exiting the back of it. A police car closely followed the van. Ryan went out and gave them some man-chasing-sneaky-robber details. They seemed to be super noisy in the 3.30am dead of night silence, however no one came out of their houses, not least our neighbour whose house the sneaky robbers where trying to break into. Humphrey did finally wake up and insisted on adding his squeaky bark to the fracas.
The police and the big (f**k off) sniffer dog wandered all around our neighbour's home, but still there was no response from him. We decided he certainly wasn't home. During the next few minutes the van and car zoomed off in a hurry... we can only hope that the sneaky robbers were apprehended and sent to prison for a long, long time (doubtful, I know). However during the next half an hour, a police car drove up and down our street a couple of times - making it seem less likely the sneaky robbers were captured. All I can say is that if they were not caught I hope that they get shocking jock itch, athletes foot, head lice and anything else-itch for a year!!
The next day we went next door to tell our neighbour about what had happened. My husband began the conversation facetiously, so, where were you last night Joe? At home, why? Really, you didn't hear anything? Ugh, no... Not even at 3am when someone was trying to get into your house? Joe (not his real name) didn't even seem shocked; deadpan he said oh I'm a heavy sleeper. Well you'd have to be, to miss a sound that woke my husband in the house next door! Joe went on to say, well there's nothing to steal here and he's probably right. It's the most "unappreciated", least security conscious house in the street.
Gossip on the street indicated that the sneaky robbers had also broken into a car parked on the street by breaking a window, nicking some change and a big heavy technical manual of some sort - good luck with lugging that around boys!
In the next few nights, when my husband just happened to be away... I was hyper-vigilant. I knew I would be, even though my husband and I discussed the sneaky robbers at length; whether they were opportunitists, whether they'd return to get the person who called the police, when Humphrey would bark if someone was breaking in etc etc! It seemed to help at the time - but in the hard cold dead of night, I really was quite unhappy with the whole sneaky robber situation.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Dumped Bridesmaid Opens Up About Wedding
So, you might remember a little while back, I wrote a catty blog about being unceremoniously dumped as the bridesmaid from my sister-in-laws wedding. If you don't then scroll back a bit and have a read... I'll wait.
Oooooooooo I hear you gasp - dumped as bridesmaid by your sister-in-law. Yes. Yes I was... I mentioned that all expenses had been spared at the bride and grooms request - I assumed the day would be a disaster, so I will have to gobble up my words now.
The wedding was a whole heap of fun - everyone enjoyed themselves, including me, the dumped bridesmaid.
I wrote that the venue was a pub, which I had not frequented before the big day. When I thought of a pub (insert grog shop) as a venue for a wedding I nearly choked - skanky, smelly, dark and dank. However, I got it wrong, so wrong. The venue is not known as a pub... it is a "tavern" and while that doesn't really invoke glorious wedding images in my mind, it is a slight step up from, awh we got married at the pub, mate! (Don’t forget your ocker accent with that, it’ll make more sense). It was a beautiful sunny day and the tavern was light and airy with rolling green lawns and clean toilets. The public bar was still open for punters and while we could see each other across the bar, none attempted to crash our party - pleasantries and jovial ardour were exchanged.
The bride with her daughters as flowergirls arrived on time to be met by her groom on the tavern verandah. All guests, including myself stood or were seated on the lawn. Several family members in hushed tones asked me if I was supposed to be the bridesmaid, I am sure I rolled my eyes and whispered the short version of the story - I was fired. I didn't want to be disrespectful to the bride on her big day after all. But I do have to dispense some bitchiness now. All through the ceremony the bride’s dress straps kept falling down - it was driving me bananas, surely it was driving her, her groom and the celebrant bananas too - it was such a distraction. If I had been bridesmaid... well you know what I am going to say. Otherwise the bride looked nice... in her forty dollar dress with her fake flowers. I'm just dark I didn't get to wear my "special" forty dollar dress - not.
After the ceremony we all lined up for photos in a somewhat organised fashion. I was standing in my place and happened to look down and noticed the youngest flowergirl didn't have any shoes on. Now, I guess like the straps, no shoes was not going to be the end of the world. But from my own experience with wedding photos you pay a crap load for - I wish someone had told my niece in the front row on my wedding day to close her legs so that her orange knickers weren't showing. So I piped up and highlighted the fact that the youngest flowergirl was sans shoes... I was quickly put in my place. However during the next break I quickly put her shoes on and adjusted wonky hairclips. Even if the bride doesn't notice in the photos - I will know that I put those shoes back on! Pat on the back for me.
The cocktail food was tasty and plentiful and seemed to keep coming out all afternoon. There were two wedding cakes - a serious, fruit cake number with the standard wedding caking white icing and a hunk of chocolate cake with no icing... who in their right mind doesn't like icing on chocolate cake? The bride that's who... They almost forgot to cut the cake, and by the time they got around to cutting it, it was late in the proceedings when everyone was too inebriated to care. If I had been bridesmaid... well you know what I am going to say... luckily I was there with my camera to take some photos instead!
The beer and wine was free flowing so pretty much everyone was happy. I was designated driver, but I too was happy. Late in the afternoon, after I had been ready to leave for about two hours give or take, my husband decided he would use his cousins spare football tickets and take his other cousins boyfriend to the footy. I could have left two hours earlier - but still I was happy.
I think it must have been a combination of events that left me happy on the day - the weather, the food, the venue, being surrounded my husband’s fantastic, social and supportive family, and not being bridesmaid. Perhaps it was much deeper than this... perhaps I was truly happy that my husband’s sister was happy with her lot on her big day. If I had of been her bridesmaid, this would have been my task - to make sure she was happy, comfortable and organised on her day. And blow me down, she proved herself truly capable of organising things for herself, just the way she wanted them. Well done!
She really didn't need a bridesmaid.
I saw my sister-in-law on the weekend and I started to internally cringe a bit, but she put an immediate stop to that, giving me my usual peck on the cheek and then coming to sit next to me. Clearly she is not into grudges. I've learnt a couple of lessons from all of this and that is, do not accept any role right away, just to seem polite and cheap wedding are just as much fun as expensive one - just without all the expense!
Oooooooooo I hear you gasp - dumped as bridesmaid by your sister-in-law. Yes. Yes I was... I mentioned that all expenses had been spared at the bride and grooms request - I assumed the day would be a disaster, so I will have to gobble up my words now.
The wedding was a whole heap of fun - everyone enjoyed themselves, including me, the dumped bridesmaid.
I wrote that the venue was a pub, which I had not frequented before the big day. When I thought of a pub (insert grog shop) as a venue for a wedding I nearly choked - skanky, smelly, dark and dank. However, I got it wrong, so wrong. The venue is not known as a pub... it is a "tavern" and while that doesn't really invoke glorious wedding images in my mind, it is a slight step up from, awh we got married at the pub, mate! (Don’t forget your ocker accent with that, it’ll make more sense). It was a beautiful sunny day and the tavern was light and airy with rolling green lawns and clean toilets. The public bar was still open for punters and while we could see each other across the bar, none attempted to crash our party - pleasantries and jovial ardour were exchanged.
The bride with her daughters as flowergirls arrived on time to be met by her groom on the tavern verandah. All guests, including myself stood or were seated on the lawn. Several family members in hushed tones asked me if I was supposed to be the bridesmaid, I am sure I rolled my eyes and whispered the short version of the story - I was fired. I didn't want to be disrespectful to the bride on her big day after all. But I do have to dispense some bitchiness now. All through the ceremony the bride’s dress straps kept falling down - it was driving me bananas, surely it was driving her, her groom and the celebrant bananas too - it was such a distraction. If I had been bridesmaid... well you know what I am going to say. Otherwise the bride looked nice... in her forty dollar dress with her fake flowers. I'm just dark I didn't get to wear my "special" forty dollar dress - not.
After the ceremony we all lined up for photos in a somewhat organised fashion. I was standing in my place and happened to look down and noticed the youngest flowergirl didn't have any shoes on. Now, I guess like the straps, no shoes was not going to be the end of the world. But from my own experience with wedding photos you pay a crap load for - I wish someone had told my niece in the front row on my wedding day to close her legs so that her orange knickers weren't showing. So I piped up and highlighted the fact that the youngest flowergirl was sans shoes... I was quickly put in my place. However during the next break I quickly put her shoes on and adjusted wonky hairclips. Even if the bride doesn't notice in the photos - I will know that I put those shoes back on! Pat on the back for me.
The cocktail food was tasty and plentiful and seemed to keep coming out all afternoon. There were two wedding cakes - a serious, fruit cake number with the standard wedding caking white icing and a hunk of chocolate cake with no icing... who in their right mind doesn't like icing on chocolate cake? The bride that's who... They almost forgot to cut the cake, and by the time they got around to cutting it, it was late in the proceedings when everyone was too inebriated to care. If I had been bridesmaid... well you know what I am going to say... luckily I was there with my camera to take some photos instead!The beer and wine was free flowing so pretty much everyone was happy. I was designated driver, but I too was happy. Late in the afternoon, after I had been ready to leave for about two hours give or take, my husband decided he would use his cousins spare football tickets and take his other cousins boyfriend to the footy. I could have left two hours earlier - but still I was happy.
I think it must have been a combination of events that left me happy on the day - the weather, the food, the venue, being surrounded my husband’s fantastic, social and supportive family, and not being bridesmaid. Perhaps it was much deeper than this... perhaps I was truly happy that my husband’s sister was happy with her lot on her big day. If I had of been her bridesmaid, this would have been my task - to make sure she was happy, comfortable and organised on her day. And blow me down, she proved herself truly capable of organising things for herself, just the way she wanted them. Well done!She really didn't need a bridesmaid.
I saw my sister-in-law on the weekend and I started to internally cringe a bit, but she put an immediate stop to that, giving me my usual peck on the cheek and then coming to sit next to me. Clearly she is not into grudges. I've learnt a couple of lessons from all of this and that is, do not accept any role right away, just to seem polite and cheap wedding are just as much fun as expensive one - just without all the expense!
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Australian of the Year and MS-er
It's come to my attention that the 2011 Australia of the Year has MS. Bet you didn't know that!! Yeah, I know, perhaps you did, it was announced months ago - so maybe I am really the last to know... Anyways in case you didn't, or if you forgot, his name is Simon McKeon.
Simon has an impressive resume and is well known as a prominent investment banker, he is an active philanthropist, climate change advocate and accomplished yachtsman, not to mention handsome - with a mop of wavy dark brown hair (can't fail to mention the important things).
He has had some fairly frightening MS symptoms - temporarily blinded and paralysed from the waist down. He says that, one thing he firmly resolved after this, was that he would try not to take any day for granted. He didn't want to leave, having a very serious connection with the community until he was old and past it. Clearly he has the fighting spirit and has used it to overcome his diagnosis and become a highly successful man. This is an inspiration to me... just because you have a terrible diagnosis, doesn't mean you can't harness the emotions surrounding the diagnosis and use them for good to whatever level you wish.
It got me to thinking about other Australians with MS - celebrity Australians as they seem to be most often recognised as role models... I came up with Chrissie Amphelett of The Divinyls, Betty Cuthbert Olympic gold medalist in sprinting and Collen McCullock - great Australian author, although she rarely publicly mentions she has MS. And that's it, thats my list... do you know anymore? Surely there are more... leave me a comment if you know more celebrity Australians with MS please.
The important thing to remember is that, even though the majority of people with MS are not celebrities, we are all inspirational in our own right, to the people who know and love us well and to those we have just met. Keep on keeping on people... be inspirational by being the best person you can be one little baby step, moment or day at a time. Good luck.
Simon has an impressive resume and is well known as a prominent investment banker, he is an active philanthropist, climate change advocate and accomplished yachtsman, not to mention handsome - with a mop of wavy dark brown hair (can't fail to mention the important things).
He has had some fairly frightening MS symptoms - temporarily blinded and paralysed from the waist down. He says that, one thing he firmly resolved after this, was that he would try not to take any day for granted. He didn't want to leave, having a very serious connection with the community until he was old and past it. Clearly he has the fighting spirit and has used it to overcome his diagnosis and become a highly successful man. This is an inspiration to me... just because you have a terrible diagnosis, doesn't mean you can't harness the emotions surrounding the diagnosis and use them for good to whatever level you wish.
It got me to thinking about other Australians with MS - celebrity Australians as they seem to be most often recognised as role models... I came up with Chrissie Amphelett of The Divinyls, Betty Cuthbert Olympic gold medalist in sprinting and Collen McCullock - great Australian author, although she rarely publicly mentions she has MS. And that's it, thats my list... do you know anymore? Surely there are more... leave me a comment if you know more celebrity Australians with MS please.
The important thing to remember is that, even though the majority of people with MS are not celebrities, we are all inspirational in our own right, to the people who know and love us well and to those we have just met. Keep on keeping on people... be inspirational by being the best person you can be one little baby step, moment or day at a time. Good luck.
Monday, May 23, 2011
My Mothers Day
I know, I know, Mothers Day was a little while ago now... perhaps someone would like to speak with my lecturer who insists on setting super hard statistical assignments that take up all my time and brain space. Statistics seem to sap the creativity right out of me! However, my assignment is just about all done, so I thought I'd get back to my blog.
So Mothers Day right? For some mum's, mine included, Mothers Day isn't a big deal - it's just another day. I can hear where those mothers are coming from... but as the mother of a five year old, I just totally love Mothers Day, because my five year loves it, she gets so excited and that excitement is contagious. I am going to be so sad when her excitement about things dissipates... or she gets to cool for school for genuine, jump out of your skin, turn yourself inside out enthusiasm.
So her excitement builds in the weeks leading up to Mothers Day. It almost peaks a few days before when at pre-primary they make Mothers Day cards, gifts and attend the Mothers Day stall at school. So let me initiate you to the Mothers Day stall.
Several weeks before Mothers Day, a note in the school newsletter goes out requesting donations of gifts to the Mothers Day stall. It doesn't say what type of things to donate, or whether they should be brand new or second hand. I have always assumed that the donations could be preloved - but in good condition - perhaps a re-gift... but I wouldn't have really thought people would go out and buy a donation. How wrong I was? I am now a member of the P & C, and the fundraising committee and well people on the committee expect the gifts to be new - I know, go figure. To me half the fun of it, is seeing what interesting pre-loved knick knack my daughter thinks I will think is the most beautiful, awe inspiring thing I have ever seen. I fear that something that is totally new, will lend itself to being just another item for me to re-gift because it has no special character... but I guess some hand lotion wouldn't go astray. Anyway, if your child brings a gift then they can be one of the first to line up, pay $2 and select a gift. Those who do not bring a gift are not left out, because many parents donate several "gifts" and so provided you have given your kid $2 and they haven't lost it on the way to school... then you too can get a Mothers Day gift!
When I picked my daughter, Chynna, up from school on the day of the stall, she gave me strict instructions not to open her bag because the gift was in it! I had to wonder if, since it was early in the week, she would be packing her own lunch for the rest of the week. Of course we negotiated a solution - she would observe me remove her lunch from the main pocket of her bag... leaving the small pocket holding the gift untouched. Then she would take her bag to her room and hide the gift until her Dad came home to help her wrap it and she would return her bag to the kitchen, so I could repack it the following day.
By the time Mothers Day came around, I had no idea about what the gift was - none! It seems at five years of age, you are quite good at keeping a secret. A few time, I had to remind her to keep her secret, as did her Dad a number of times over dinner. But I really had not an inkling. I was much more concerned about the fact that no one had booked breakfast anywhere the day before Mothers Day. I wrote my husband a list of places doing breakfast in the Swan Valley. He was "good" (eventually) and called them all - but of course they were all booked out all day and had been for weeks! My mum telephone for something quite unrelated and happened to mention that they were going for breakfast at Seventh Avenue, but they hadn't booked!!! I was like, oh um, I don't think you'll get in, but if I book it for you can we join you pleeeeeeease. So that is where we had a surprisingly delicious buffet breakfast at 8am. I think the early start was possibly the key to the deliciousness of it all.
Having breakfast with my Mum was great. We hadn't done it, probably since Mothers Day the year before. We got to have a nice relaxing breakfast, while my Dad and husband kept the kiddly winks in line. What's even better is that I got my mum a really useful and most awesome handmade gift. I knew right away that she'd appreciate it. It was a handmade peg apron, so that she wouldn't need to bend over to reach her pegs anymore. It was made by my sewing virtuoso friend, Jacquie, who has a new online store - Pebble Lane Studio, check it out:
http://www.facebook.com/Pebblelanestudio, or
http://www.madeit.com.au/storecatalog.asp?userid=27083
My mum loved her peg apron - love your work Jacquie!
Anyway, I've left my favourite part of Mothers Day until last. Chynna walks into my bedroom, jumps on the bed and snuggles up. My husband whispers to her, did you forget, it's Mothers Day and she promptly jumps off the bed and runs down the hall. She returns moments later, with her gifts. She gives me a big hug and tells me to open the card first. Being the obedient mother that I am... I contain my urge to rip open the gift. There are three little parcels and so she hands me the card. It is so gorgeous that I almost cry... thank goodness for teachers, who are mothers themselves and know what will make us beam the biggest smile.
It's so much better than it was last year, because Chynna can write her own name and copy words now. I will treasure this card forever and I will put it in my "glory box", well, what will be my treasures box. It'll keep me in touch with what is important and that is that Chynna loves me because I cook her noodles and pizza for dinner every night!! Hahaha - how easy would my life be if that was the case.Next she handed me a little, totally unexpected little package. And again it nearly made me cry. It is amazing the things your kids know about you. She knows that my favourite colour is green. She knows my favourite food is raspberry chocolate - I think she means Cherry Ripes, I guess if I had to name a favourite food I would say Cherry Ripes (because, in general I just love to eat and therefore food is my favourite food)!
She has also indicated that I like to cook dinner - which is my absolute favourite past time! Good try sweetheart. And she loves me because I cook dinner for her and well, that might be translated to I cook her special dinner when she refuses to eat the dinner that everyone else is eating! This was a fantastic gift, it made me laugh and well, I just felt special - really, truly! That sounds sarcastic and I really didn't mean it to be because I am being 100% sincere.
Inside the above little fold out card, wrapped in tissue paper was a pair of Chynna made earrings. How cute are they? I wore them all day and made sure I pointed them out to everyone. It's so cool to be able to wear something that your daughter has made for you. Earrings as well - what a good idea! I think, after opening the cards and earrings I said, I didn't need anything else for Mothers Day - I could feel the love from my handmade cards and earrings. My husband sighed and said he'd take his present back to the shop. It's a bit hard to compete with a five year old.
Last was the Mothers Day stall gift. Like I mentioned earlier, I couldn't wait to see what Chynna had picked for me. Chynna was so excited to finally give me the gift that she was bouncing around all over the bed. It's an interesting little number... she followed in the jewellery theme... I'm just not sure I have anything to wear it with - since it will absolutely own the outfit!Hehe, obviously she loves it - shiny and big, like a princess necklace. What a cack!
So thinking I had completely cleaned up in the Mothers Day gift department, my husband gives me my final gift and it turns out to be something I have wanted to get myself for awhile. His ears have been switched on afterall. He gave me an Emjoi. Goodbye shaving, hello silky smooth legs - if I can find the time of course!!
I love Mothers Day. May it alway be as exciting and as precious as this one.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Easter Holidays
I know I am about two weeks too late, but happy Easter every one. I hope you had a great time eating Easter eggs and the like.
My family and I went away for Easter, with another family to a small city in the mid west of Western Australia, called Geraldton. It is about a four-hour drive if you drive non-stop, but if you have kids, and I do, it took around five and a half hours. It is a lovely coastal city, with great beaches and warm weather (also humid so I discovered) and picturesque ranges to the east.
The family we went away with, to be known as the G'mer's we have known for around one and a half years. This friendship began through our daughters, who became "best" friends almost immediately on commencing kindy together. The G'mer's consist of Mummy Maz, Daddy Brett, Chelsea (5), Riley (3) and Kourtney (4 months). They are super friendly, super generous and posses miles of integrity, not to mention they are all beautiful to boot.
So here is what I learnt this Easter holiday trip away.
No matter how good your intentions are you might not get up and leave by 5am. However the G'mer's who also had the best intentions to get up and leave much earlier than us, left much later than us. We discover this when they pulled in to the Badgingarra Roadhouse half an hour after we did.... they had a problem with fuses and trailer lights - not a lascivious love affair with sleep.
We stayed with Daddy Brett's uncle Bob and his lovely wife, pot plant extraordinaire and photographer Leslie. Leslie has a super cute English accent, which I couldn't help but imitate after a couple of days! She has a heavy metal rock star son, who has recently been on a world tour (perhaps she might add a comment, telling us the name of the band, cause I've forgotten... pretty sure it had a 666 in there). Bobby, a bit of a secret gardener, lawn bowler (I didn't hold that against him) and is a mean card playing train driver. He has a fantastic train set hiding in his back shed and there home is scattered with train memorabilia. I learnt that these people are lovely, generous and incredibly patient. One of the first things they said to us was, "our home is your home"! I kind of wonder if they wished they could eat their words right back up the first time we unleashed the kids in the back yard. I know that their teeny dogs, Sasha and Amber probably would have chewed those words to shreds. It turns out they had no interest in baby sitting our kids and spent most of their time in a custom made cupboard kennel!
The best laid plans might as well mean no plan... as far as our sleeping arrangements were concerned. Both the G'mer’s and ourselves carted our tents to Geraldton. We also knew that there was a spare room and an empty caravan. I guess, by the fact that we both brought tents - meant that we were sleeping in our tents.... but it's not quite what happened. Only one tent went up, which was inhabited by my husband Ryan, our daughter Chynna and Chelsea. I slept in the caravan with Sabin, my son. Brett and Maz slept in the spare room with their daughter Kourtney, and Riley, bless him, slept in the lounge room. I'm pretty sure Riley would have loved to have slept in the tent, but he has a funny little habit of waking up, finding a new location and going to sleep again. Maz has said that she has had to search her home for him on several occasions. It might not have been good to find him asleep atop a rose bush! Anyways... I was quite happy with my sleeping location in the caravan with Sabin. He sleeps really well, I was protected from the cold and condensation, had a modicum of privacy and was not forced to get up at 6am when the girls got up because I could lock the door, although I could still hear them - loud and clear!
I learnt that the Dongara Irwin Race Club holds a meet over the Easter weekend for the Dongara Cup. It was super casual - we had a bit of a picnic set up under a huge gum tree right by the race track. While it was super casual... you could get dressed up if you so wished. There was a Ladies Fashions on the Field comp for those so inclined. I learnt that my twenty-month-old son is fascinated by horses and horses racing around a track. He stood on the fence for each race and on a couple of occasions refused to move from the fence between races in case he missed something. At one point, he motioned to a woman sitting on the lawn every 30 seconds that the horses were gone and when would the next race be.
I also learned at the races that my husband is a very fast sprinter indeed. As between race entertainment they held a 100 metre dash - one for the boys and one for the girls. Two of the boys... not our two, got out on the track in their undies - tight black boxers (very nice indeed) and off white well worn y-fronts (not so nice- but good try). Our boys got out there and had a bit of a wager on who would come in before the other. Now I knew hubby was quick, but Brett is pretty fit... so I really didn't know who was going to get up. There was a lot of elbowing at the start, but my husband is really darned fast and he came third overall. My question is how fast would he be carrying three of us, if a massive tsunami was approaching???
I learned that at 5 years old it is acceptable to lie about, dob on, yell at and hit your best friend often. Then five minutes later, have forgotten all about it, but then five minutes after that shoot the other one down again. This is where I know Leslie and Bobby were very patient souls indeed, they didn't yell and scream, like I did probably with one and a half days to go (well I guess to be fair to myself... I didn't scream either, not out loud anyway). There is only so much whinging, whining and dobbing one can put up with, especially if you have MS, have been going hard for three and a half days and then are so worn out that all you want to do is sit in a quiet room and not move for 48 hours.
I learned that your children will suffer no lasting ill effects if they eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner with some other crap thrown in for good measure! If we were at home I would have let Chynna have maybe one Easter egg at breakfast, then slowly consume the rest over the coming weeks. And Sabin... he's tricky, because Chynna at the same had not eaten much chocolate at all in her short 20 months... but obviously because he see's Chynna eating chocolate he wants some too, so he would have to have had one at breakfast too. I also would have consumed my eggs slowly... but I learned (just not in Geraldton) that if you have eggs and other crappy food to eat, whether you eat it in one hit or slowly over a few days/weeks you are stilling going to eat the same amount of calories anyway. I also learned that Maz and I have the same eating philosophy... eat what you want and if it tastes nice lots of it. I am paying for it now of course... on a watch what you eat health kick - more like boot up the date health kick!
I learned that my son is the gatekeeper and loves to watch model trains. Sabin over the five days we were in Geraldton, opened and closed the little gate onto the patio, like a million times. He and Riley had a number of squabbles over it... which I think Sabin won. He liked to open it to let you in and open it to let you out - he'll make a great concierge one day. He loved to join Bob in his shed, stand up on an old chair and watch the model trains go around and around on the track. We live right near a freight line, so Sabin sees trains daily and I tell you he is “obsessed”. One day to escape the arguing 5 year olds, Bobby and Sabin went and hid in the back shed all by themselves. When the girls discovered them, Bobby firmly asked them to go away. Good on ya Bobby.
I learned that I can play cards. One night we all sat around the table and played a game called Sevens - no adding or subtracting in a hurry thank goodness! Cards are played out to form a layout of sequences going up and down in suit from the sevens a la solitaire and the game is won by emptying one's hand before the other players. I won a round... as did everyone else. Bobby has a serious poker face and won several rounds. Card games are great I’ve decided... because you can gossip and muck about in between some serious- strategic-plan-making card stuff... which gets progressively more serious when alcohol is involved!
I learned that my daughter is probably never going to go fishing again. She caught the first fish on her first ever beach fishing trip. She was very excited until she found out she would be eating the fish and that this meant the fish would die. To avoid a monumental break down, I quickly suggested that because the fish was so small that we throw it back. But then later Chelsea caught a fish and it was put in the bucket and Chynna had an EPIC meltdown. I tried to explain that there are millions of fish in the sea and that I couldn't make someone else chuck the fish they'd caught back... but she wouldn't have it. Ryan caught another tiny fish and I made him throw that one back without Chynna seeing it. Brett decided Chynna had been watching too much Bindi Irwin (if you don't know who that is google her - crikey!) and that she was some Green Peace warrior, but I think it was more likely that she was totally unprepared mentally for the ordeal. You know the catching and eating thing... I could have helped her, by telling her in advance about the reason for fishing which didn't mean looking at the shiny, sparkly, pretty fish - what a bad mummy! Eventually Chelsea's fish was set free because nobody caught anything else anyway.
Lastly, I learned that water is a great entertainer for children of all ages, even the ones in their 30's and 40's! Geraldton has an awesome water playground, which kept us all entertained for hours. The biggest problem associated with this was the sun and sunburn. Ryan copped some flack for the amount of sunscreen he put on the kids, which was our usual amount. People think that sunburn cream is supposed to go on lightly and leave no trace, when in fact the opposite is true. Sunscreen should be applied liberally and not rubbed in until it disappears. Proof is in the pudding - none of the kids got burnt. I can highly recommend the water playground at Geraldton’s foreshore, it’s grassed, has shade and it’s close to the gelato shop, The Dome and cafes… what more could you ask for.
So that wraps up what I learnt… almost. I also learned that holiday trips are fun when you go with family and friends. I am really looking forward to next year’s Easter break and the trip we have planned to the Dongara Races.
My family and I went away for Easter, with another family to a small city in the mid west of Western Australia, called Geraldton. It is about a four-hour drive if you drive non-stop, but if you have kids, and I do, it took around five and a half hours. It is a lovely coastal city, with great beaches and warm weather (also humid so I discovered) and picturesque ranges to the east.
The family we went away with, to be known as the G'mer's we have known for around one and a half years. This friendship began through our daughters, who became "best" friends almost immediately on commencing kindy together. The G'mer's consist of Mummy Maz, Daddy Brett, Chelsea (5), Riley (3) and Kourtney (4 months). They are super friendly, super generous and posses miles of integrity, not to mention they are all beautiful to boot.
So here is what I learnt this Easter holiday trip away.
No matter how good your intentions are you might not get up and leave by 5am. However the G'mer's who also had the best intentions to get up and leave much earlier than us, left much later than us. We discover this when they pulled in to the Badgingarra Roadhouse half an hour after we did.... they had a problem with fuses and trailer lights - not a lascivious love affair with sleep.
We stayed with Daddy Brett's uncle Bob and his lovely wife, pot plant extraordinaire and photographer Leslie. Leslie has a super cute English accent, which I couldn't help but imitate after a couple of days! She has a heavy metal rock star son, who has recently been on a world tour (perhaps she might add a comment, telling us the name of the band, cause I've forgotten... pretty sure it had a 666 in there). Bobby, a bit of a secret gardener, lawn bowler (I didn't hold that against him) and is a mean card playing train driver. He has a fantastic train set hiding in his back shed and there home is scattered with train memorabilia. I learnt that these people are lovely, generous and incredibly patient. One of the first things they said to us was, "our home is your home"! I kind of wonder if they wished they could eat their words right back up the first time we unleashed the kids in the back yard. I know that their teeny dogs, Sasha and Amber probably would have chewed those words to shreds. It turns out they had no interest in baby sitting our kids and spent most of their time in a custom made cupboard kennel!
The best laid plans might as well mean no plan... as far as our sleeping arrangements were concerned. Both the G'mer’s and ourselves carted our tents to Geraldton. We also knew that there was a spare room and an empty caravan. I guess, by the fact that we both brought tents - meant that we were sleeping in our tents.... but it's not quite what happened. Only one tent went up, which was inhabited by my husband Ryan, our daughter Chynna and Chelsea. I slept in the caravan with Sabin, my son. Brett and Maz slept in the spare room with their daughter Kourtney, and Riley, bless him, slept in the lounge room. I'm pretty sure Riley would have loved to have slept in the tent, but he has a funny little habit of waking up, finding a new location and going to sleep again. Maz has said that she has had to search her home for him on several occasions. It might not have been good to find him asleep atop a rose bush! Anyways... I was quite happy with my sleeping location in the caravan with Sabin. He sleeps really well, I was protected from the cold and condensation, had a modicum of privacy and was not forced to get up at 6am when the girls got up because I could lock the door, although I could still hear them - loud and clear!
I learnt that the Dongara Irwin Race Club holds a meet over the Easter weekend for the Dongara Cup. It was super casual - we had a bit of a picnic set up under a huge gum tree right by the race track. While it was super casual... you could get dressed up if you so wished. There was a Ladies Fashions on the Field comp for those so inclined. I learnt that my twenty-month-old son is fascinated by horses and horses racing around a track. He stood on the fence for each race and on a couple of occasions refused to move from the fence between races in case he missed something. At one point, he motioned to a woman sitting on the lawn every 30 seconds that the horses were gone and when would the next race be.
I also learned at the races that my husband is a very fast sprinter indeed. As between race entertainment they held a 100 metre dash - one for the boys and one for the girls. Two of the boys... not our two, got out on the track in their undies - tight black boxers (very nice indeed) and off white well worn y-fronts (not so nice- but good try). Our boys got out there and had a bit of a wager on who would come in before the other. Now I knew hubby was quick, but Brett is pretty fit... so I really didn't know who was going to get up. There was a lot of elbowing at the start, but my husband is really darned fast and he came third overall. My question is how fast would he be carrying three of us, if a massive tsunami was approaching???
 |
| Ryan has the denim shorts and green shirt with yellow stripe on. |
I learned that at 5 years old it is acceptable to lie about, dob on, yell at and hit your best friend often. Then five minutes later, have forgotten all about it, but then five minutes after that shoot the other one down again. This is where I know Leslie and Bobby were very patient souls indeed, they didn't yell and scream, like I did probably with one and a half days to go (well I guess to be fair to myself... I didn't scream either, not out loud anyway). There is only so much whinging, whining and dobbing one can put up with, especially if you have MS, have been going hard for three and a half days and then are so worn out that all you want to do is sit in a quiet room and not move for 48 hours.
I learned that your children will suffer no lasting ill effects if they eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner with some other crap thrown in for good measure! If we were at home I would have let Chynna have maybe one Easter egg at breakfast, then slowly consume the rest over the coming weeks. And Sabin... he's tricky, because Chynna at the same had not eaten much chocolate at all in her short 20 months... but obviously because he see's Chynna eating chocolate he wants some too, so he would have to have had one at breakfast too. I also would have consumed my eggs slowly... but I learned (just not in Geraldton) that if you have eggs and other crappy food to eat, whether you eat it in one hit or slowly over a few days/weeks you are stilling going to eat the same amount of calories anyway. I also learned that Maz and I have the same eating philosophy... eat what you want and if it tastes nice lots of it. I am paying for it now of course... on a watch what you eat health kick - more like boot up the date health kick!
I learned that my son is the gatekeeper and loves to watch model trains. Sabin over the five days we were in Geraldton, opened and closed the little gate onto the patio, like a million times. He and Riley had a number of squabbles over it... which I think Sabin won. He liked to open it to let you in and open it to let you out - he'll make a great concierge one day. He loved to join Bob in his shed, stand up on an old chair and watch the model trains go around and around on the track. We live right near a freight line, so Sabin sees trains daily and I tell you he is “obsessed”. One day to escape the arguing 5 year olds, Bobby and Sabin went and hid in the back shed all by themselves. When the girls discovered them, Bobby firmly asked them to go away. Good on ya Bobby.
I learned that my daughter is probably never going to go fishing again. She caught the first fish on her first ever beach fishing trip. She was very excited until she found out she would be eating the fish and that this meant the fish would die. To avoid a monumental break down, I quickly suggested that because the fish was so small that we throw it back. But then later Chelsea caught a fish and it was put in the bucket and Chynna had an EPIC meltdown. I tried to explain that there are millions of fish in the sea and that I couldn't make someone else chuck the fish they'd caught back... but she wouldn't have it. Ryan caught another tiny fish and I made him throw that one back without Chynna seeing it. Brett decided Chynna had been watching too much Bindi Irwin (if you don't know who that is google her - crikey!) and that she was some Green Peace warrior, but I think it was more likely that she was totally unprepared mentally for the ordeal. You know the catching and eating thing... I could have helped her, by telling her in advance about the reason for fishing which didn't mean looking at the shiny, sparkly, pretty fish - what a bad mummy! Eventually Chelsea's fish was set free because nobody caught anything else anyway.
Lastly, I learned that water is a great entertainer for children of all ages, even the ones in their 30's and 40's! Geraldton has an awesome water playground, which kept us all entertained for hours. The biggest problem associated with this was the sun and sunburn. Ryan copped some flack for the amount of sunscreen he put on the kids, which was our usual amount. People think that sunburn cream is supposed to go on lightly and leave no trace, when in fact the opposite is true. Sunscreen should be applied liberally and not rubbed in until it disappears. Proof is in the pudding - none of the kids got burnt. I can highly recommend the water playground at Geraldton’s foreshore, it’s grassed, has shade and it’s close to the gelato shop, The Dome and cafes… what more could you ask for.
So that wraps up what I learnt… almost. I also learned that holiday trips are fun when you go with family and friends. I am really looking forward to next year’s Easter break and the trip we have planned to the Dongara Races.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Motorcycles, Trauma and Hospitals.
I went and saw a friend on the Sunday. I was happy to see him, because I haven't seen him in ages, but I was not pleased about the circumstances at all. His alias is MC and he was involved in a hideously serious motorcycle accident about a month or so ago.
MC was driving straight through an intersection during an amber light and unfortunately for him, so was a turning car. I guess it is going to be difficult to decide who was at fault because they were both somewhere they probably shouldn't have been during an amber light. (Note to self, amber for all intents and purposes means STOP if at all possible!) MC was thrown 30 metres from the collision into a wall.
Wouldn't it be nice if I could say, oh and MC got up, dusted himself off and continued on his merry way? But of course, this was not the case... two broken legs, tib and fib of both, a broken rib and a completely destroyed left arm. We are talking a broken humerus and radius with a pretty darn severe brachial plexus injury. The brachial plexus injury in MC's case means that he landed funny (obviously not haha funny!) against the wall, probably with his arm behind him, so that the tendons and nerves were majorly damaged. The result is that he has no feeling or movement from about half way down his bicep. Nerves were taken from his leg and groin and replaced in his arm, but as us MS suffers know, nerves take a really long time to heal and his hand is not yet working. Thus the doctors have given him a two year time frame for his arm to come good, otherwise it will be amputated...
I think about those two years and I think about all the pain, commitment and hard work that MC will need to put in to get his arm and hand working and wouldn't it be totally devastating after all of that to then to have it chopped off. He seems fine about this scenario, but perhaps this is a little bravado for his audience. But I am sure (and I hope) that he uses knowing that the next two years will be filled with pain, commitment and hard work as motivators so that they are not in vain. Good luck buddy.
Eventually, he will also need to have a full knee reconstruction as well. Life for my friend will be a little, no, a lot uncomfortable for the next few years at least. It gets me to thinking about why such horrible things happen to people or why people, like me, get terrible diseases? Is it because we are bad people - no, I doubt it; otherwise every stinking paedophile would die a slow, painful, torturous death before their time. Is it because of karma... hmmm, well if it is then many of us have done something hugely wrong and again every stinking paedophile would die a slow, painful, torturous death before their time. Is it to teach us a lesson? Um, er then lots of us must be slow learners because those lessons involve considerable pain. Do things happen for a reason? Or is everything abstract, random and accidental? Sometimes I don't know what I believe in…
Oh I failed to mention that MC during the nerve replacement op (I think, not sure how many he has had) nearly died on the table. Oh the post traumatic stress…
MC is currently staying in a rehabilitation hospital. The hospital was like a rabbit warren, it was incredibly unwelcoming and walking through the empty corridors on a Sunday afternoon I felt spooked. I also assumed MC would be in a private room - too many visits to maternity wards obviously, so I was shocked to walk into a room filled to the brim by MC and three other trauma unfortunates. I understand now that a room full of blokes in similar situations could be a good morale raising activity but I think it's more likely due to a lack of space and outdated facilities. It was really quite depressing, but it would have been a whole lot more depressing, for MC anyway, stuck in a bed 24-7 all by yourself.
So we had a nice chat. I didn’t cry about the magnitude of damage done to MC's body. And I came home and banned both my children from even considering a motorbike as a form of transport. I told my husband in no uncertain terms that I don’t care how experienced a motorbike rider he thinks he is, that he is never ever ever getting another bike. Ever!
MC was driving straight through an intersection during an amber light and unfortunately for him, so was a turning car. I guess it is going to be difficult to decide who was at fault because they were both somewhere they probably shouldn't have been during an amber light. (Note to self, amber for all intents and purposes means STOP if at all possible!) MC was thrown 30 metres from the collision into a wall.
Wouldn't it be nice if I could say, oh and MC got up, dusted himself off and continued on his merry way? But of course, this was not the case... two broken legs, tib and fib of both, a broken rib and a completely destroyed left arm. We are talking a broken humerus and radius with a pretty darn severe brachial plexus injury. The brachial plexus injury in MC's case means that he landed funny (obviously not haha funny!) against the wall, probably with his arm behind him, so that the tendons and nerves were majorly damaged. The result is that he has no feeling or movement from about half way down his bicep. Nerves were taken from his leg and groin and replaced in his arm, but as us MS suffers know, nerves take a really long time to heal and his hand is not yet working. Thus the doctors have given him a two year time frame for his arm to come good, otherwise it will be amputated...
I think about those two years and I think about all the pain, commitment and hard work that MC will need to put in to get his arm and hand working and wouldn't it be totally devastating after all of that to then to have it chopped off. He seems fine about this scenario, but perhaps this is a little bravado for his audience. But I am sure (and I hope) that he uses knowing that the next two years will be filled with pain, commitment and hard work as motivators so that they are not in vain. Good luck buddy.
Eventually, he will also need to have a full knee reconstruction as well. Life for my friend will be a little, no, a lot uncomfortable for the next few years at least. It gets me to thinking about why such horrible things happen to people or why people, like me, get terrible diseases? Is it because we are bad people - no, I doubt it; otherwise every stinking paedophile would die a slow, painful, torturous death before their time. Is it because of karma... hmmm, well if it is then many of us have done something hugely wrong and again every stinking paedophile would die a slow, painful, torturous death before their time. Is it to teach us a lesson? Um, er then lots of us must be slow learners because those lessons involve considerable pain. Do things happen for a reason? Or is everything abstract, random and accidental? Sometimes I don't know what I believe in…
Oh I failed to mention that MC during the nerve replacement op (I think, not sure how many he has had) nearly died on the table. Oh the post traumatic stress…
MC is currently staying in a rehabilitation hospital. The hospital was like a rabbit warren, it was incredibly unwelcoming and walking through the empty corridors on a Sunday afternoon I felt spooked. I also assumed MC would be in a private room - too many visits to maternity wards obviously, so I was shocked to walk into a room filled to the brim by MC and three other trauma unfortunates. I understand now that a room full of blokes in similar situations could be a good morale raising activity but I think it's more likely due to a lack of space and outdated facilities. It was really quite depressing, but it would have been a whole lot more depressing, for MC anyway, stuck in a bed 24-7 all by yourself.
So we had a nice chat. I didn’t cry about the magnitude of damage done to MC's body. And I came home and banned both my children from even considering a motorbike as a form of transport. I told my husband in no uncertain terms that I don’t care how experienced a motorbike rider he thinks he is, that he is never ever ever getting another bike. Ever!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Humphrey , The Toy Poodle Who Never Looks Happy in Photos!
So here I am again. I haven't been able to blog as regularly as I would like to because I am back studying again. I'm doing Honours in Psychology (or 4th year) really part time. Usually part time is two units a semester and you would finish 4th year in two years, but I am doing just one unit a semester... until I have to do my thesis which I have to complete in a year like everyone else, so in theory I should have 4th year finished in three years. Anyways I am doing a statistics unit and it's not very easy, so it's taking up much of my headspace and time. I'm procrastinating right now... I should be reading about MANOVA, but I think I have conditioned myself to fall asleep whenever I start to read the textbook... thus I think reading at 1.30 in the afternoon when I'm feeling drowsy is not the best bet!
I keep good company when I'm doing uni homework. My faithful dog, Humphrey usually hugs my feet while I'm still and is my shadow when I'm on the move. Mostly he's a good companion - he doesn't whinge, chat back or not eat the food I give him. But he's not great at giving tight hugs, helping me with stats or making dinner. Humphrey is an 11 month old toy poodle. The best thing about him is that he doesn't drop hair at all, which is great because he's an inside dog. Everyone, and I mean everyone who meets him comments on his colour, either that it is not a usual poodle colour or that he is beautiful or some mix of both. He's a hard colour to define, kind of a light red/brown. He is a very happy and playful dog - he's great with the kids and an awesome playmate - he keeps them busy when I'm busy. He is just the right size too - Sabin has had him in a headlock before and he can jump up and not knock them over. Right now I can think of three irritating things associated with him... his squeaky bark and high pitch squeal when he thinks he's missing out on something, the fact that I get out of bed at 5.30am to walk him and he never ever looks happy in photographs.
He is actually quite hard to photograph because he just is never still for long enough. So maybe he is happy but you can't tell because his face is always blurred. Other people, such as my husband and an anonymous commenter to this blog have pointed out that perhaps he looks unhappy because of his feminine hair cut, ie your typical poodle "do"... pom poms on his legs and fluff on his head. After all he is a poodle, so Humphrey should expect to have his hair cut appropriately.
I'll let you in a on a little secret... I get Humphrey's haircut in a poodle do because I love to watch my husband's reaction. He is horrified that we have a poodle that looks like a poodle. I know - what did he expect... we bought a POODLE!! When we purchased Humphrey last year he was a tiny ball of fluff, so maybe Ryan thought we bought a poodle that didn't look like a poodle - crazy I know.
The anonymous commenter thought that Humphrey looked like a girl with his pom poms... but check out his latest crew cut, he still looks like a girl. He has super long eyelashes, which the groomer trims when Humphrey goes in for his regular appointment. So I think all Humphrey can do is man up, use a deeper bark and wee on way more trees.
I had planned on giving him a mohawk, but the groomer decided that he is still too wriggly for anything that requires a straight shave. I have to tell you, Lexy the groomer was very upset that she had to give Humphrey a crew cut, because Humphrey’s hair just goes perfectly into a head pom pom (technical term, anybody??). She point blank refused to trim off his dunny brush tail. His crew cut actually matches my husband’s current haircut - a number 2 all over. Ryan looks like a crim with such short hair and a goatee. Humphrey looks quite cute and at least I can see his eyes now.
So here is a picture of Humphrey and Ryan - same hairstyle! Who's most handsome?
I think I know who'll be more annoyed at this comparison!
Poor Humphrey, I think he is just destined to look like a girl and take unhappy looking photographs!
He is actually quite hard to photograph because he just is never still for long enough. So maybe he is happy but you can't tell because his face is always blurred. Other people, such as my husband and an anonymous commenter to this blog have pointed out that perhaps he looks unhappy because of his feminine hair cut, ie your typical poodle "do"... pom poms on his legs and fluff on his head. After all he is a poodle, so Humphrey should expect to have his hair cut appropriately.
I'll let you in a on a little secret... I get Humphrey's haircut in a poodle do because I love to watch my husband's reaction. He is horrified that we have a poodle that looks like a poodle. I know - what did he expect... we bought a POODLE!! When we purchased Humphrey last year he was a tiny ball of fluff, so maybe Ryan thought we bought a poodle that didn't look like a poodle - crazy I know.
The anonymous commenter thought that Humphrey looked like a girl with his pom poms... but check out his latest crew cut, he still looks like a girl. He has super long eyelashes, which the groomer trims when Humphrey goes in for his regular appointment. So I think all Humphrey can do is man up, use a deeper bark and wee on way more trees. 
I had planned on giving him a mohawk, but the groomer decided that he is still too wriggly for anything that requires a straight shave. I have to tell you, Lexy the groomer was very upset that she had to give Humphrey a crew cut, because Humphrey’s hair just goes perfectly into a head pom pom (technical term, anybody??). She point blank refused to trim off his dunny brush tail. His crew cut actually matches my husband’s current haircut - a number 2 all over. Ryan looks like a crim with such short hair and a goatee. Humphrey looks quite cute and at least I can see his eyes now.
So here is a picture of Humphrey and Ryan - same hairstyle! Who's most handsome?
I think I know who'll be more annoyed at this comparison!
Poor Humphrey, I think he is just destined to look like a girl and take unhappy looking photographs!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Latest Neuro Appointment
On Tuesday afternoon I had an appointment with my neurologist. As I have mentioned previously I really like my neuro. He answers my questions, and believe me, sometimes when I see him I have pages of questions I have written down, he doesn't sugar coat his responses and I believe he gives me the most up to date information. In the past I have hand written questions to him and he has always replied and most recently I sent him an email, to which he also replied. So as a client (I was going to write patient...) I feel respected, heard and that my MS is appropriately managed.
I don't often have afternoon appointments. Usually I attend first thing in the morning, with my husband, but childless. However this time I had an arvo appointment, with my husband and kids. I did have a morning appointment, but it clashed with a lecture at university so I had to change it. We decided to take the kids, to keep it foremost in my neuro's mind that I am a mum and there's nothing quite like an auditory-visual reminder.
Let me tell you, afternoons are busy. My neuro's rooms are in a suite with two other doctors. There was only one empty seat in the waiting room, so Ryan and the kids stood in the corridor outside, looking in through the glass walls. While I was waiting I stuck my nose in a magazine. My kids came in a few times and distracted me, but this just gave me the opportunity to gaze around the room trying to decide who had MS and who didn't. But as you would expect in neurology rooms its a near impossible feat.
Eventually my neuro appeared and called my name. We all bumbled into his room and sat down. Sabin started whinging and my neuro asked if it was ok to give him some cars to play with - of course it was, unless he really wanted his other clients to experience Sabin’s crescendo peak!
The appointment was really just to see how Mr C is coming along, whether I am happy with the daily injections and how any reactions are going. Everything for me is fine. Mr C sometimes stings, gives me welts and itches occasionally but it's improved since I started, when it stung, gave me welts and itched all the time. The welts are an ongoing thing - sometimes they are very large, sometimes small, but they are always under clothing, so its really no big deal.
We briefly talked about the new drugs available, alternative drugs to Mr C, such as betaferon and whether I would like to participate in a study - a blood test for progressive multifocal leukoencephalopathy (PML), a viral brain infection which can be activated by another drug used to manage MS called Tysabri. Currently this test is not available to the general population, so I thought why the hell not because if I was to start Tysabri, then I would have a head start on the question of PML. But I don't currently know much about Tysabri or the test, so that’s all I will say about it.
We talked about my next MRI, which is in June. We cancelled my follow-up to the MRI, instead making an appointment for December. My neuro said that he would call me to schedule an appointment if he needed to speak to me about the MRI results. Hopefully he won't need to do that, because hopefully Mr C is doing his job. Obviously after the MRI, I will call the office of my neuro and ask for a copy of the results and that way I can email him to my hearts content.
The appointment was quick, painless and highly unnecessary because I am ok with Mr C, daily injections and reactions, but it is probably mandatory for someone who has just started “serious” medication. So $180 later, Sabin couldn’t even make it out the door with a souvenir. He did make it to the door holding the cars, but nothing seems to get past my neuro.
I don't often have afternoon appointments. Usually I attend first thing in the morning, with my husband, but childless. However this time I had an arvo appointment, with my husband and kids. I did have a morning appointment, but it clashed with a lecture at university so I had to change it. We decided to take the kids, to keep it foremost in my neuro's mind that I am a mum and there's nothing quite like an auditory-visual reminder.
Let me tell you, afternoons are busy. My neuro's rooms are in a suite with two other doctors. There was only one empty seat in the waiting room, so Ryan and the kids stood in the corridor outside, looking in through the glass walls. While I was waiting I stuck my nose in a magazine. My kids came in a few times and distracted me, but this just gave me the opportunity to gaze around the room trying to decide who had MS and who didn't. But as you would expect in neurology rooms its a near impossible feat.
Eventually my neuro appeared and called my name. We all bumbled into his room and sat down. Sabin started whinging and my neuro asked if it was ok to give him some cars to play with - of course it was, unless he really wanted his other clients to experience Sabin’s crescendo peak!
The appointment was really just to see how Mr C is coming along, whether I am happy with the daily injections and how any reactions are going. Everything for me is fine. Mr C sometimes stings, gives me welts and itches occasionally but it's improved since I started, when it stung, gave me welts and itched all the time. The welts are an ongoing thing - sometimes they are very large, sometimes small, but they are always under clothing, so its really no big deal.
We briefly talked about the new drugs available, alternative drugs to Mr C, such as betaferon and whether I would like to participate in a study - a blood test for progressive multifocal leukoencephalopathy (PML), a viral brain infection which can be activated by another drug used to manage MS called Tysabri. Currently this test is not available to the general population, so I thought why the hell not because if I was to start Tysabri, then I would have a head start on the question of PML. But I don't currently know much about Tysabri or the test, so that’s all I will say about it.
We talked about my next MRI, which is in June. We cancelled my follow-up to the MRI, instead making an appointment for December. My neuro said that he would call me to schedule an appointment if he needed to speak to me about the MRI results. Hopefully he won't need to do that, because hopefully Mr C is doing his job. Obviously after the MRI, I will call the office of my neuro and ask for a copy of the results and that way I can email him to my hearts content.
The appointment was quick, painless and highly unnecessary because I am ok with Mr C, daily injections and reactions, but it is probably mandatory for someone who has just started “serious” medication. So $180 later, Sabin couldn’t even make it out the door with a souvenir. He did make it to the door holding the cars, but nothing seems to get past my neuro.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Japan, Earthquake, Tsunami, Radiation and Ignorance
This is some crap that an acquaintance on Facebook wrote during the week about the earthquake and subsequent tsunami in Japan. We grew up together, although I was more a friend of his sister’s and he is a few years younger than me. We haven’t spoken in person since we were kids and obviously if we had I would have slapped him into shape. One person liked this comment before I wrote:
Hmmm not sure I agree with this... I'm not into killing whales at all, but it's uncool for thousands of people to die and then probably more to die from radiation sickness. PS The Japanese on a whole, in my experience, know very little about the whale/dolphin killings and I speak to a lot of Japanese visitors regarding this. They are just as horrified and outraged as us.This was followed a comment by a person I don’t know (I didn’t fix up it’s grammar to add to it’s ignorant feel):
Well if that be true, why dont THEY do something about it? . . I think its sad. . , so many innocent people but nontheless they are overpopulated. When is enough enough? I may be rude here but im SOOO glad i live in perth, apart from a few fires and wind damage we and the south west are doing quite well :)
Of course I couldn’t let this be the last word so I added and I can tell you I really wanted to write something a little more “choice”:
Connie have you ever been to an Asian country? In many of these countries the governments hide the undesirable things they do, so the people have no idea what’s going on and can't complain. Yes your opinion is offensive, but you are (unfortunately) entitled to it.
The original poster didn’t say anything further and his next status update was:
hello,Lee-Anne
thank you for your message.
we and our family are all safe.
but so many people died(it is said over 10000...) and missing..
i am very sad.
my friend lives in the town that was completely destroyed by tsunami
and i still cannnot contact with her and her family..
but i hope they are safe.
in japan the information is so complicated and everyone is very confused.
transportation has stopped.
no water, no rice, no paper, no canned foods and no nappy in shops.
the electricity is running short
so there is a blackout for 3 hours a day in my area everyday.
but i believe we all work together and our country will recover from this disaster.
and we really appreciate all your support from all over the world.
thank you so much.
LOVE from yumiko, kazu, emma and baby.
thank you for your message.
we and our family are all safe.
but so many people died(it is said over 10000...) and missing..
i am very sad.
my friend lives in the town that was completely destroyed by tsunami
and i still cannnot contact with her and her family..
but i hope they are safe.
in japan the information is so complicated and everyone is very confused.
transportation has stopped.
no water, no rice, no paper, no canned foods and no nappy in shops.
the electricity is running short
so there is a blackout for 3 hours a day in my area everyday.
but i believe we all work together and our country will recover from this disaster.
and we really appreciate all your support from all over the world.
thank you so much.
LOVE from yumiko, kazu, emma and baby.
And another:
Dear Lee-Anne and your familys
Hi.
Thank you so much for your kindness and emotional mainstay.
I am so happy to get your Email.
And also ,we deeply appreciated a lot of county give us cooperations.
Fortunately,our place is not close from the focus of an earthquake.
So , we start to work from monday.
Bur traffic has been paralyzed in places by the earthquake.
And there are no food in the market.
I was shocked that I had saw it.
I really anxious about victim ...
The east of Japan area was hit by great earthquake.
I pray that their place is getting better.
I am worry about your friend who living your house now.
Did she contact with her family?
I hope her family is O.K....
If I can possible I want to help her.
I am also very frightened nuclear power plants and their radiation.
The news always infrom about it.
The goverment indicated to take refuge the neighborhood.
We are afraid of this problem.
We do best !!
Once more , thank you so much.
Love xxx ooo,Mami
Hi.
Thank you so much for your kindness and emotional mainstay.
I am so happy to get your Email.
And also ,we deeply appreciated a lot of county give us cooperations.
Fortunately,our place is not close from the focus of an earthquake.
So , we start to work from monday.
Bur traffic has been paralyzed in places by the earthquake.
And there are no food in the market.
I was shocked that I had saw it.
I really anxious about victim ...
The east of Japan area was hit by great earthquake.
I pray that their place is getting better.
I am worry about your friend who living your house now.
Did she contact with her family?
I hope her family is O.K....
If I can possible I want to help her.
I am also very frightened nuclear power plants and their radiation.
The news always infrom about it.
The goverment indicated to take refuge the neighborhood.
We are afraid of this problem.
We do best !!
Once more , thank you so much.
Love xxx ooo,Mami
And one more (I have so many more):
Hello Lee-Anne. how are you? we had very very big earthquake and Tsunami... too much people died... my hometown so trembled. still tremble （aftershock） everyday. we had blackout and power cut rotation from today. but dont worry my family and I are fine. please say hello to your family. hitomi
Friday, March 11, 2011
Dumped From the Bridal Party
I was to be a bridesmaid for my sister-in-law wedding in early April, but I have been unceremoniously dumped.
I was the only bridesmaid, so it could be argued I was actually the maid of honour... but it sounded so important (insert old and matronly), that I preferred to be called bridesmaid. Anyway it doesn't really matter now because I am the bridesmaid no longer.
On the weekend, the bride and groom organised a little get together in lieu of a hen's and buck's celebrations. My husband and I were given a weeks notice. It was a daytime event, at the pub where the ceremony and reception are to be held, at around the time my son, Sabin would be taking his nap. I wasn't keen on going and neither was Ryan, my husband as it was probably just going to be one great big piss up. As such I asked my husband to call his sister to excuse us from the event. I know he spoke to his sister several times during the week and was told that I should come on my own to meet the best man. In all of my wisdom I decided not to go, because it was going to be a free for all piss up, that my husband wasn't going, that I wouldn't know any of the drunkards attending, it was an hour's round trip and wait for it... I was fairly sure that I would meet the best man in a few weeks at the wedding rehearsal.
It just so happened the night before said get together, we had organised our own little get together/BBQ with some of the parents of my daughters school friends. It wasn't an especially big or late night, but I was feeling a little worse for wear the following day and didn't really have the patience for listening to drunken ramble. In all fairness I should have called the bride myself, but instead I asked Ryan to call his sister to send my apologises (as he would have asked me to do with my sister if the situation was reversed), I know he called, but then I wandered off and didn't hear the conversation. I assumed he said I would not be attending, since that is what I asked him to do.
However the following morning, I received several texts from the bride, saying that my services would no longer be required (well something like that anyway). The kids had slept in, thus we were running late for school so I didn't call the bride right then and there. Instead I called my husband, told him the news and barked, call your sister and find out what's going on!!!
I should add here, that the bride and I are family. If we were not family we would not be friends. She is a nice girl, but we have very little in common in the whole scheme of things. From go to whoa this wedding has been organised in around 3 months. The bride and groom have been together since I have been on the scene, which is around 10 years. So a wedding wasn't completely unexpected... I guess they just didn't know that the majority of people give themselves a year to organise a wedding. All expenses have been spared... at the bride and groom's request.
On the walk home from school, I called the bride and left a message on her phone because she didn't answer. I listened to a message from my husband on my answering machine at home, which stated that it wasn't just I missed the big piss up, but because I was a most unhelpful bridesmaid! I can't say I was totally surprised, because there wasn't actually a lot for me to do. The bride has a very helpful mother, father, brother and nana. I also didn't have any other bridesmaids to boss around and keep in check. So after listening to the message I rushed off to my next appointment.
When I returned home around lunchtime I called the bride. I decided the best tactic was to eat humble pie, which I'm quite unaccustomed to doing really. She didn't sound super mad, but I'm not really sure what she sounds like super mad. She insisted that I really needed to go to the free for all piss up at the pub to meet the best man - several times... several hundred times. I apologised and apologised again - what else could I do? She went on to tell me that I had not performed my duties as bridesmaid as I had not gone with her to pick her dress or assisted with the flowers.
Enough was enough at that point... I reckoned I was allowed to defend myself. I didn't loose it or anything, but I simply reminded her that she had asked me to be bridesmaid and the very next day, called me to say that she and her mother (my mother-in-law) had found everyone's dresses (her's, mine and her 2 daughter's). I didn't hold my breath, but the dress she picked for me was a dark bronzy colour and quite lovely. I was happy with it, but when the groom saw it, he was unhappy with the colour so it had to be changed. Then I ended up with a dusty pink skirt and top, dress-look-alike, that was at least 3 sizes too big. Her nana adjusted the dress and while it's not to my taste, it's do-able.
My presence was requested for choosing the flowers, not real flowers, fake ones at 9am in the morning. I said I would endeavour to make it, but that 9am meant I would have to be ready with my 2 kidlets to leave the house at 8.30am, a hard ask on any day. Also running through my mind was that I wouldn't be doing a whole lot more than removing fake flowers from my kids hands than choosing her bridal flowers. She said that they could wait for a while at the meeting spot... but did not change the time for me. So when she brought this up as a failed bridesmaid duty... I mentioned the early morning appointment and she said that they would have waited... what the whole extra hour it would have taken me? I also added that deciding on flowers is usually done solely by the bride, with no added input from the bridesmaid/s - I know this is how it was for me at my wedding - I couldn't have given two hoots whether my bridesmaids liked my flowers or not, it's not like they were paying for them. And you know what, the bride and I have completely different tastes, like I would have chosen real live flowers for a start... She still feels slighted of course. There wasn't much I could say to reduce her bridezilla rage at my inadequacies as a bridesmaid.
By the end of the phone call with the bride and with me still fired I said that I had no hard feelings and that I didn't want this to start a rift between us or our families. Let's hope she doesn't get wind of this post then.... I haven't written anything untruthfully or that our families, knowing the bride wouldn't agree with.
My guess is that the bride may miss my presence on the big day, when she alone will need to keep an eye on her timetable (oh, but wait, she won't have one, because I won't have written it), keep her daughters clean and tidy for the photos and generally keep the wedding ticking over nicely in her sure to be inebriated state! Maybe I should pack the bridesmaid attire on the day just in case she changes her mind!
I was the only bridesmaid, so it could be argued I was actually the maid of honour... but it sounded so important (insert old and matronly), that I preferred to be called bridesmaid. Anyway it doesn't really matter now because I am the bridesmaid no longer.
On the weekend, the bride and groom organised a little get together in lieu of a hen's and buck's celebrations. My husband and I were given a weeks notice. It was a daytime event, at the pub where the ceremony and reception are to be held, at around the time my son, Sabin would be taking his nap. I wasn't keen on going and neither was Ryan, my husband as it was probably just going to be one great big piss up. As such I asked my husband to call his sister to excuse us from the event. I know he spoke to his sister several times during the week and was told that I should come on my own to meet the best man. In all of my wisdom I decided not to go, because it was going to be a free for all piss up, that my husband wasn't going, that I wouldn't know any of the drunkards attending, it was an hour's round trip and wait for it... I was fairly sure that I would meet the best man in a few weeks at the wedding rehearsal.
It just so happened the night before said get together, we had organised our own little get together/BBQ with some of the parents of my daughters school friends. It wasn't an especially big or late night, but I was feeling a little worse for wear the following day and didn't really have the patience for listening to drunken ramble. In all fairness I should have called the bride myself, but instead I asked Ryan to call his sister to send my apologises (as he would have asked me to do with my sister if the situation was reversed), I know he called, but then I wandered off and didn't hear the conversation. I assumed he said I would not be attending, since that is what I asked him to do.
However the following morning, I received several texts from the bride, saying that my services would no longer be required (well something like that anyway). The kids had slept in, thus we were running late for school so I didn't call the bride right then and there. Instead I called my husband, told him the news and barked, call your sister and find out what's going on!!!
I should add here, that the bride and I are family. If we were not family we would not be friends. She is a nice girl, but we have very little in common in the whole scheme of things. From go to whoa this wedding has been organised in around 3 months. The bride and groom have been together since I have been on the scene, which is around 10 years. So a wedding wasn't completely unexpected... I guess they just didn't know that the majority of people give themselves a year to organise a wedding. All expenses have been spared... at the bride and groom's request.
On the walk home from school, I called the bride and left a message on her phone because she didn't answer. I listened to a message from my husband on my answering machine at home, which stated that it wasn't just I missed the big piss up, but because I was a most unhelpful bridesmaid! I can't say I was totally surprised, because there wasn't actually a lot for me to do. The bride has a very helpful mother, father, brother and nana. I also didn't have any other bridesmaids to boss around and keep in check. So after listening to the message I rushed off to my next appointment.
When I returned home around lunchtime I called the bride. I decided the best tactic was to eat humble pie, which I'm quite unaccustomed to doing really. She didn't sound super mad, but I'm not really sure what she sounds like super mad. She insisted that I really needed to go to the free for all piss up at the pub to meet the best man - several times... several hundred times. I apologised and apologised again - what else could I do? She went on to tell me that I had not performed my duties as bridesmaid as I had not gone with her to pick her dress or assisted with the flowers.
Enough was enough at that point... I reckoned I was allowed to defend myself. I didn't loose it or anything, but I simply reminded her that she had asked me to be bridesmaid and the very next day, called me to say that she and her mother (my mother-in-law) had found everyone's dresses (her's, mine and her 2 daughter's). I didn't hold my breath, but the dress she picked for me was a dark bronzy colour and quite lovely. I was happy with it, but when the groom saw it, he was unhappy with the colour so it had to be changed. Then I ended up with a dusty pink skirt and top, dress-look-alike, that was at least 3 sizes too big. Her nana adjusted the dress and while it's not to my taste, it's do-able.
My presence was requested for choosing the flowers, not real flowers, fake ones at 9am in the morning. I said I would endeavour to make it, but that 9am meant I would have to be ready with my 2 kidlets to leave the house at 8.30am, a hard ask on any day. Also running through my mind was that I wouldn't be doing a whole lot more than removing fake flowers from my kids hands than choosing her bridal flowers. She said that they could wait for a while at the meeting spot... but did not change the time for me. So when she brought this up as a failed bridesmaid duty... I mentioned the early morning appointment and she said that they would have waited... what the whole extra hour it would have taken me? I also added that deciding on flowers is usually done solely by the bride, with no added input from the bridesmaid/s - I know this is how it was for me at my wedding - I couldn't have given two hoots whether my bridesmaids liked my flowers or not, it's not like they were paying for them. And you know what, the bride and I have completely different tastes, like I would have chosen real live flowers for a start... She still feels slighted of course. There wasn't much I could say to reduce her bridezilla rage at my inadequacies as a bridesmaid.
By the end of the phone call with the bride and with me still fired I said that I had no hard feelings and that I didn't want this to start a rift between us or our families. Let's hope she doesn't get wind of this post then.... I haven't written anything untruthfully or that our families, knowing the bride wouldn't agree with.
My guess is that the bride may miss my presence on the big day, when she alone will need to keep an eye on her timetable (oh, but wait, she won't have one, because I won't have written it), keep her daughters clean and tidy for the photos and generally keep the wedding ticking over nicely in her sure to be inebriated state! Maybe I should pack the bridesmaid attire on the day just in case she changes her mind!
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
A Cure by Brazil's John of God?
The other day I had some time on my hands and was watching Oprah (yes I was bored with Facebook - shock, horror!) She was talking to some guests about the Brazilian spiritual healer John of God. This got me thinking about what I would do to fix my MS.
John of God or João Teixeira de Faria, a 68-year-old man has apparently been performing miracles, as in curing people of their aliments for 52 years. He takes no credit for his healing stating that God heals through him or more specifically, "the healing Entities who work through John of God are the spirits of deceased doctors, surgeons, masters, and saints." He performs this work completely free of charge to anybody who requests his help - you do not need to be religious or spiritual yourself. Oooooo free cure, free free free, so either it doesn't work and he knows it or it really does work and he is completely altruistic, has no agenda and is not motivated by getting filthy rich.
However before you rush out and purchase an airline ticket, you should know that while he often performs "invisible surgeries", which we'll come to in a sec, he has been known to perform basic surgeries with no medical training and with no pain relief... however none of his "patients" in the Oprah footage seemed to writhe about in pain. (I guess this is possible if a deceased surgeon AND anesthetist are working through João at that moment.) Invisible surgeries take place in a group meditation room, where nobody actually lays hands on you. People who have experienced this "invisible surgery" report having vivid mental healing experiences. Unfortunately, you do not get to choose if you will have an invisible surgery or the real deal, but you can refuse the real deal if it is offered to you, but would you if John of God and his Entities said, you need the real deal - I think not.
João Teixeira de Faria's results have been, in most cases, spectacular - curing brain cancer, arthritis, auto immune disorders and AIDS, repairing brain aneurysms, returning sight to the blind, allowing the lame to walk to name a few, but you get the general drift – he is the master healer. He also treats emotional and mental health problems. His website states that every illness is treatable, but with varying results. How disappointed would you be if you went to Brazil for treatment by John of God, but a few months down the track you were not in the least bit better? It's worth mentioning that John of God does not ask you to stop conventional treatment of your ailment, quite the opposite in fact, he advocates that you continue your treatment and medications.
So is this all it takes to cure my MS? Oh, along with wearing white in João presence as this makes it easier, apparently, for a person's aura to be seen. Well I can do the white... but how about the $2100 odd airfare? Is there a guarantee... like can someone reimburse my airfare if I'm not cured? Or do I get my next Brazil airfare free? Yes I am being a little facetious... because if given the chance (and the airfare) to see John of God I'm not sure what I would do.
I love to travel and I would love to go to Brazil. So, if I were in Brazil, would I make an appointment to see John of God?
At this point in my disease progression I'm not looking for a miracle cure... it feels strange to write that, because I do want to be cured of this terrible illness before irreversible damage is done. So what does this all mean? Maybe it means I don't fully understand the power of energy healing, like most people and maybe I just need to have faith that miracles can happen...
John of God or João Teixeira de Faria, a 68-year-old man has apparently been performing miracles, as in curing people of their aliments for 52 years. He takes no credit for his healing stating that God heals through him or more specifically, "the healing Entities who work through John of God are the spirits of deceased doctors, surgeons, masters, and saints." He performs this work completely free of charge to anybody who requests his help - you do not need to be religious or spiritual yourself. Oooooo free cure, free free free, so either it doesn't work and he knows it or it really does work and he is completely altruistic, has no agenda and is not motivated by getting filthy rich.
However before you rush out and purchase an airline ticket, you should know that while he often performs "invisible surgeries", which we'll come to in a sec, he has been known to perform basic surgeries with no medical training and with no pain relief... however none of his "patients" in the Oprah footage seemed to writhe about in pain. (I guess this is possible if a deceased surgeon AND anesthetist are working through João at that moment.) Invisible surgeries take place in a group meditation room, where nobody actually lays hands on you. People who have experienced this "invisible surgery" report having vivid mental healing experiences. Unfortunately, you do not get to choose if you will have an invisible surgery or the real deal, but you can refuse the real deal if it is offered to you, but would you if John of God and his Entities said, you need the real deal - I think not.
João Teixeira de Faria's results have been, in most cases, spectacular - curing brain cancer, arthritis, auto immune disorders and AIDS, repairing brain aneurysms, returning sight to the blind, allowing the lame to walk to name a few, but you get the general drift – he is the master healer. He also treats emotional and mental health problems. His website states that every illness is treatable, but with varying results. How disappointed would you be if you went to Brazil for treatment by John of God, but a few months down the track you were not in the least bit better? It's worth mentioning that John of God does not ask you to stop conventional treatment of your ailment, quite the opposite in fact, he advocates that you continue your treatment and medications.
So is this all it takes to cure my MS? Oh, along with wearing white in João presence as this makes it easier, apparently, for a person's aura to be seen. Well I can do the white... but how about the $2100 odd airfare? Is there a guarantee... like can someone reimburse my airfare if I'm not cured? Or do I get my next Brazil airfare free? Yes I am being a little facetious... because if given the chance (and the airfare) to see John of God I'm not sure what I would do.
I love to travel and I would love to go to Brazil. So, if I were in Brazil, would I make an appointment to see John of God?
At this point in my disease progression I'm not looking for a miracle cure... it feels strange to write that, because I do want to be cured of this terrible illness before irreversible damage is done. So what does this all mean? Maybe it means I don't fully understand the power of energy healing, like most people and maybe I just need to have faith that miracles can happen...
Anyone want to sponsor me so I can take a trip to Brazil to test the power of John of God?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)