I was lying out in the lovely sun getting my vitamin D today, which is imperative in the winter month for those of us with MS, and of all the things I could be thinking about, I was thinking about Osama Bin Laden. Don't ask me why I was thinking about him... when I should have been concentrating on my cells turning UVB into vitamin D but I was!
I remember where I was, what I did and how I felt that fateful day almost 10 years ago when the world changed forever. I went to bed early on September 11th 2001. The following morning I got out of my bed and opened my bedroom door ready to start the day when my house mate (and dear friend), Cathy pounced on me, almost breathlessly asking, have you heard what's happened? Nope. I've been sleeping... soundly! I perched myself in front of the TV and every station was showing the same thing... planes flying into the towers – was I awake or was this some kind of nightmare, a Hollywood stunt? I was horrified and shocked. What was going on? I couldn't, for the life of me, drag myself away from the set.
Perhaps by 1pm I decided I should go on my usual early morning walk (it was slightly later than normal but better late than never). As I walked down my street, I could see Perth's skyscrapers. All I could picture was ominously low flying planes crashing into them and wondering if I would be covered in debris. I thought about people jumping from windows way up high and people on the street watching the twin towers imploding in on themselves. I thought of the families of those people trapped and killed in the towers - the trauma, the disbelief and horror of it all. Who would do this and why? Was it the beginning of the end?
For many years I think the "end" may have been far easier to deal with, than the invisible terror lurking just over my shoulders. I remember talking to my therapist about 9-11. She suggested it sounded like I had been traumatised by the event... hadn't everyone in some form or another? It rattled my psyche and reinforced that the world, indeed was a dangerous place. Average people like me, had never heard of al-Qaeda... let alone knew they held a massive grudge against the west.
So we all probably agree the world has changed since 9-11, but how has the world changed since Osama Bin Laden's death?
Hmmmmm lets see, what was I doing when I found out Osama Bin Laden was DEAD, er um, I think I was having my breakfast watching Sunrise (a current affairs, chit-chatty morning show). How did I feel... apathetic? Indifferent? Unmoved? Maybe I had a brief moment of relief. Hadn't we all forgotten about him before his death anyway... wasn't he permanently hiding or previously dead or something?
Since Osama Bin Laden's death does anyone feel any safer, or better maybe? Perhaps the lovely folks of America feel better. But I think it is unlikely they feel any safer, just like the rest of us. The jihād leader is brutally slain and even if he was just a "figurehead", I am pretty sure the jihādists are pretty bloody angry and are reading resumes as I write, looking for a new and scarier chief. I don't know about you, but I don't feel safer - a new leader will need to prove himself and outdo his predecessor. This equals new terror, more uncertainty and definitely more attacks to come.
Since Osama Bin Laden's death did the world change back to it's blissfully ignorant pre-9-11 self? Nuh-uh. What's gone down in the last ten years can't be undone. There are still thousands of people dead, there are still thousands of people grieving, there are still invasive security checks at airports, there are still people wary of Muslims and burqas and there is still no safe haven in the world where terrorism can't happen. What's done is done and we are scarred for life. Luckily we are a resilient bunch and what is new (and sometimes horrible) soon becomes normal and routine.
Did al-Qaeda and other terrorist organisations just shut up shop since Osama Bin Laden's death? Ummm... NO! HELL NO, now they are angrier and looking for revenge. They are probably recruiting like never before. I bet there are many who would be willing to avenge their hero's death. Osama Bin Laden evaded death for ten whole years... is that a good deterrent? Not if everything I learnt about punishment all through my life and at university is correct. Punishment should be swift, otherwise you won't learn from it... and neither will anyone else. Not that anyone could forget about 9-11, but any future Osama Bin Laden's will be happy to try their hand at terrorism, knowing that they have a good life expectancy, can go into hiding, get married, have some ankle biters, send out secret memos and go down quickly in a blaze of glory - never to be forgotten.
Did the world's troops get yanked out of the Middle East since Osama Bin Laden's death? Nope. The troops are still fighting the war against terror - whatever that is (or was). As of the 6th of June 2011 there have been 2433 coalition deaths in Afghanistan as a part of ongoing coalition operations since the invasion in 2001. Australian's have been killed 28 times up to the 6th of June 2011 (there have been more in the last month), with 182 soldiers wounded. That is 182 Australian lives turned up-side-down - irrevocably changed forever and 210 plus families who will never ever be the same again. The organisation, icasualities (http://icasualties.org) puts America's death toll for this year alone at 243. What's my point? Did the world's troops get pulled out of the Middle East since Osama Bin Laden's death? They didn't and they continue to die because of Osama Bin Laden - his legacy lives on.
How different would the world be if Osama Bin Laden was captured immediately after the 9-11 attacks? Perhaps dramatically - he wouldn't have been able to continuously call all of his jihādist brothers and sisters to arms, maybe there would have been less attacks on places such as Bali and maybe we would have had just one huge hiccup and returned to our blissfully (little less) ignorant pre-9-11 self. Or perhaps it would have made no difference. Maybe after 9-11 we were set on a collision course with terrorisim regardless of Osama Bin Laden's input. I guess I will never know.
Is it better Osama Bin Laden is dead? Maybe for the families who lost loved ones. Was his death too quick and easy for him compared to those who died in the towers and those troops who have died? Would it have been better if he was prodded into a prison cell all on his lonesome and forgotten? Maybe, maybe not. Prison is not all its cracked up to be. Osama Bin Laden was human (I know right) and he would be entitled to three meals a day, clean clothes, likely have access to the media, ie a TV and newspapers and he would still likely be able to see his family. I did not rejoice in his death... but it really is hard to deny a human his basic rights, so maybe prison, as we know it may have been too easy for him. I don't have the answer about what was the best outcome for Osama Bin Laden - death or prison and I guess I don't need too now.
So how has the world changed for the average Joe since Osama Bin Laden's death.... well it hasn't as far as I can tell. I still have my beautiful family, I still have MS and I still have bills to pay but I do hope and pray the world will be a little safer as a result of his death and that less people suffer now he is gone…
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
MS, Diet and Professor Jelinek
I have been meaning to write about MS diets for a while now, but have dillydallied thinking I need to do some research. Then I had a flash of clarity... No need to overintellectualize. I don't need to research because I am writing about my own experience – duh, am I writing a blog or what? So please keep that in mind as you read on.
Even before I was officially diagnosed with MS, but after my GP had ever so quietly uttered the dreaded two letters - I had read a book about MS. A good friend who had another friend with MS gave the book to me. The friend with MS had read the book then unselfishly wanted to pass it on. I didn't, instead deciding it was highly relevant and that I should keep it for future reference.
That book was "Taking Control of Multiple Sclerosis" by Professor George Jelinek MD. It was published in 2000 - only a few years before I was diagnosed and it utterly and totally became my bible.
Sitting at the desk of my first neurologist, peering over at my notes as he turned his back, I saw it written I had read the book and had a good working knowledge of the disease. I read the book because when I came home from my GP after he had mentioned MS, I scanned the internet for MS symptoms. All the funny symptoms I had been experiencing, but didn’t know how to explain all had names. I hoped and prayed I did not have MS, however deep down I knew MS was what I had. Knowing about MS prior to being diagnosed helped me feel moderately in control of the big roller coaster ride of what was happening to me.
When I was diagnosed, I was all prepared and psyched-up to start medication - I braced for it. I assumed I would be put on Interferons or Copolymer 1 (which is now known as Copaxone), both of which were relatively new and experimental. There certainly was no research on their long-term effects on health. That day wouldn't eventuate for another seven or so years. My second neurologist wanted to see how my MS developed before putting me on these drugs... I trusted him, so I didn't insist I start medication. I am glad I didn't as I had some of the most fruitful and fulfilling seven years of my life without having to inject myself daily and could sometimes forget that I had anything wrong with me at all. I had no outwardly noticeable relapses or problems that could be linked to MS.
While on the drug front I agreed to wait, Professor Jelinek made a very good case regarding saturated and unsaturated fats and the immune system. He collected and collated data from bucket loads of research on the effects of fats in the diets of people with MS, including the research of Professor Swank. As such I commenced my less than 5g of saturated fat a day diet/lifestyle, as per the diet followed by Professor Jelinek.
I remember eating my last juicy steak at a lovely restaurant. It was raining outside, but the fire was warm and cosy and I was with my new-ish boyfriend (and future husband). My steak was big, juicy and medium rare. I grew up on a farm and ate home grown meat every day during my childhood. I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to follow my new vegan plus fish diet, as it was so extreme. Surprisingly not eating meat was about the easiest thing I had to give up. Warm creamy indulgent desserts were the hardest. It was not an easy path to tread, however it again helped me feel in control of my life, which had been struck by this random, unforseen disease.
Here's a funny little titbit for you about canned tuna. Professor Jelinek advocated eating oily fish for its omega 3 fat content. It didn't matter whether the fish was fresh or canned, but for ease of use, especially at lunchtime, canned seemed the obvious choice. However this posed just one small problem for me. I abhorred canned fish of any kind. It all seemed like stinky, mashed up cat food to me. My husband trained me to eat it... I wasn’t happy about it, but no one I knew had died from ingesting it. He put a little tuna in my sandwiches, which at first, would make me gag. Eventually I could manage to scoff tuna patties, smoked salmon and tuna pizza with no issues, which was totally unfathomable pre-MS. Now I love canned tuna - I can't imagine how I survived without it.
I kept up the strict less than 5g of saturated fat diet for approximately two years. Sometimes it was a cinch; other times it was hell on earth for me and all those around me. I had a notebook in which I added up the saturated fat of everything I ate after it had been carefully weighed or measured. Eating out was incredibly difficult. Most average restaurants only cater to vegetarians who eat dairy or have no problems eating deep fried food. I can't even begin to recall how many squabbles my husband and I had over where to eat, the ingredients of dishes and whether it was worth discussing fat content with the server. I lost a lot of weight, which for me was not a bad side effect! However my mum thought I was starving myself silly and it didn’t seem to matter how often I explained it to her I could not change her mind.
I started travelling after I was diagnosed with MS. On my jaunts I discovered that being vegan plus fish was relatively easy in Canada. Canadian restaurants seemed to cater to a diverse range of diets and there was an abundance of real vegetarian cafes, stores and restaurants. There were whole sections in ordinary supermarkets devoted to vegetarian products. I was also incredibly pleased to learn that hotdog stands in downtown Vancouver sold vegetarian hotdogs. Clearly I was living in heaven on earth. However I also discovered that travelling meant being exposed to a huge variety of new and exciting foods. Sometimes it was very hard to pass up delicious looking foods that would have instantly voided my 5g of saturated fat per day in one mouthful.
My year in China was so much more difficult in so many ways - not least being that I didn't speak Mandarin! Many Chinese are on the verge of being vegetarian, except for that little bit of meat tucked away under the cabbage. Dishes like this were classed as vegetarian and our Chinese friends couldn't understand why I wouldn’t eat them, especially when they were so considerately chosen. It may have been there in minuscule amounts – but it was still there in all its saturated fatty glory. I also found the constant diet of "wet" food tough sometimes... but western food was hard to come by... so sometimes I just had to eat peanut butter on well-done toast to remember what crunchy was. Don't get me wrong, authentic Chinese food is utterly amazing – it’s just impossible to record it’s fat content when you don’t really know what you are eating.
Slowly but surely over the years my less than 5g of saturated fat diet has fallen by the way side. I have found it hard to stay focused on it when there is no in your face, hard evidence of it's ability to reduce relapses. My neurologist advocates healthy eating, but not necessarily that of vegetarian persuasion. I still do not eat red meat or chicken, but dairy crept in whilst I was pregnant with my son, mainly cheese, milk in my coffee and delectable desserts too! My family eats what I do, otherwise I would be cooking at least two different meals every night. I know it’s not peculiar to a vegetarian diet but my kids don't always love what I eat thus I make them something else. My husband eats his red meat when he's away on business trips or for lunch at work.
Perhaps the final straw for me and the Professor Jelinek diet came about a year ago. I was at my neurologist having a check up. I had my list of questions, as per usual and at the end of those questions I alway ask after Professor Jelinek. After all my neuro is a MS specialist and Professor Jelinek has MS and is in the medical profession and they both reside in the same city, so surely my neuro would know something about his wellbeing. But this time my neuro seemed a little annoyed that I had asked after him - he asked me why I wanted to know. I said something like... because if he is well then in my mind I can be well too. Well let me tell you what I heard next rocked my world in all the wrong ways. Professor George Jelinek did not satisfy all the clinical criteria to meet a diagnosis of MS. Put simply, he does not have MS!
Can you imagine how I felt? Cheated, lied to, upset and really, really angry. I believed in this man and what he was preaching. I wondered how he could write a book about MS saying, oooooooo I am a doctor with MS - follow me. How could he know what it was like if he didn't have to wake up every day with MS?
About a year has passed since I was given this news. I am not angry any more and have ventured to the library to borrow Professor Jelinek’s new book. I am reading it now. It is called, "Overcoming Multiple Sclerosis" and was published in 2010. Professor Jelinek fully owns up to not having any relapses in the ten years since writing his books, but he claims this is due to his diet and lifestyle choices. He failed to mention not satisfying the clinical criteria of MS. So maybe his lack of relapses is due to his diet or maybe it is due to a mild version of the disease or maybe it is due to him not actually having the disease. I’ll leave this for your interpretation.
I do not feel like I am breaking any codes or am being overtly controversial because Professor Jelinek has written about being relapse free himself. I am critically appraising Professor Jelinek’s assessment and am pointing out that the reason Professor Jelinek has been relapse free may be due to other reasons other than his diet. Unfortunately some of us may read a book without being critical of it’s content - so I just want to highlight this point. It's a tough diet/lifestyle and I think it's only fair that one evaluates why the author is relapse free before commencing it.
Although part of me wants to jump up and down and stamp my feet, I am again finding many good reasons to follow Professor Jelineks updated diet from his new book. He has meta-analysed the fat research and come to the same conclusions as in his first book. Saturated fat is bad for everyone, but especially for those of us with MS. He still advocates a vegan plus fish diet for MS-ers. I have already started to remove dairy from my diet again... it's hard because I love cheese but I keep in mind my responsibility to my family. If a diet low in saturated fat can minimise the effects of MS… I would be stupid not to get on board because it is something that I can do without medical intervention, expense or side effects (other than weight loss!)
I have not yet finished Professor Jelinek’s new book. Does it matter if he doesn't have MS? I don’t know… my opinion and thoughts on the matter change regularly. I don’t have anything to loose by reading his book, but hopefully I have a lot to gain by following his recommendations. Fingers crossed.
To be continued...
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Three Weeks of Yoga
A little while ago I bought I yoga voucher for a month of unlimited yoga at a centre that is about twenty minutes from my home. I was so excited about it, because I used to do a lot of yoga maybe seven or so years ago before I was diagnosed with MS, a little a bit after I was diagnosed with MS, before I travelled, got married, had kids and returned to uni. I have always wanted to get into it again, but found making time really difficult. I told my husband that I would commence using the voucher when uni broke for the semester and our daughter was on holidays.
About after a week of uni being over, my husband came home from work and gave me a gentle prod in the right direction... I thought you might go to yoga tonight. My response was, oh I think it's the beginner’s course tonight and I'm not sure if the voucher is valid for that. Why don't you make a call and find out. Ok then. So it turns out the voucher was valid and the instructor was (now) expecting me! I quickly got ready and got my sore backed, no core strength body to the studio pronto.
The one thing I remember about my experience of yoga the first time around, was how quickly my neck pain settled and how I could stretch the whole back of my neck on the ground when I was lying prone. It was pretty impressive because I had terrible neck pain and headaches and had gotten to a place where I thought I would just have to accept that I was a person with a sore neck, whose physio could make feel better for a while... just not permanently. It really was surprising how quickly I felt benefits from yoga for my whole body and mind.
Even though I was not a beginner in yoga, the beginner’s course is a pretty good place to start for anyone. The instructor takes things slowly and explains all the postures thoroughly. But what's even better is that everyone else in the class is likely a novice, so I was not walking into a studio of elastic bands, who could wrap their legs behind their heads, which is really, really unsettling and intimidating. I know that’s a pretty silly mind set to have... but I am just a little bit competitive. Anyways, for good measure I still headed to the back of the room where I could gauge everyone else’s abilities against mine... and so no one could watch me stick my bum in the air.
I have done just over three weeks of yoga now - that is about ten sessions. I definitely feel like I have been doing some form of exercise. I really believe that my posture has improved and that I have gained some core strength. My back still hurts in the morning when I wake up, but it is a little less sore during the day. I bet it would be a hell of a lot better if I could just stop carting my two year old sumo toddler around. However I do find after a yoga lesson, it is not sore at all - there is much to be said for an hour and a half of complete body stretching. I feel healthier and as a result that healthiness carries all through my life... not that I ate really badly three weeks ago, but I think I am making healthier food choices now and shoving less into my mouth too. So maybe yoga is suppressing my horse appetite! I'm only a couple of kilos away from my pre-baby weight, which means I have lost three kilograms by not even trying. Yay!
So what do I love about yoga??? I really love the discipline involved in holding the form of the poses even when the burn kicks in or the stretch is tight, some might say that I am a glutton for punishment... but not me. After a recent class I was thinking about why I was feeling so jubilant. During and after a really good stretch, which yoga is, where my muscles have burned and extended past where they might usually go, I feel deeply relaxed and pristinely calm. I guess it's all those lovely endorphins flooding into my blood. During classes I have noticed my thoughts slow right down to a single stream. Usually that thought is about the stretch and breathing into that stretch... I'm not even sure if that is even a thought actually, or whether my mind has broken from being totally absorbed in the process of breathing and stretching to notice what I am actually doing. I have a very, very busy, messy mind and it likes to multi-task, thus it is so refreshing when there is just one stream of communication going on in there. The only other times my mind slows down to such an extent is if I have done a guided meditation or have had a big night, am tired and probably hungover and then just sit and observe rather than process.
These are some of the things about yoga that I think you need to know if you are a newby to the practice. I always felt compelled to wear super loose and baggy clothes, but this is not the way to go. Why, I hear you ask. Well you are going to spending a fair amount of time with your head down towards your knees and the floor, if you don't believe me google downward dog. So if your head and chest are down it is highly likely you will flash your post baby flab where your stomach used to be (in my case) and boobies to anyone else in the room who is not concentrating on their pose and is looking around the room. Also flappy, baggy pants tend to get caught as you step your leg through a pose, causing you to awkwardly loose your balance, which is not at all a graceful, elegant or controlled look.
The yoga instructor will tell you not to eat a large meal right before a class, because digestion requires the blood that your muscles will need for stretching and so there will be a big fight for resources. If you do eat a big meal you will probably feel sick, bloated and generally yuck - I'm sure we've all been there. He or she might say don't eat anything within a couple of hours of the class. I will agree with this, but in the first few classes I attended, half way through my mind started yelling at me - I've had enough of this poxy class - get me out, NOW! It took couple of slinging matches and slog fests before I worked it out... I hadn't had enough to eat leading up to the class to sustain my blood sugar throughout it’s duration. So while it would be ridiculous to eat a main meal right before a class, a small snack is not out of the question.
No freshly applied perfume or strong B.O Killer please. Deodorant and perfume waft through a warm yoga class quickly. It's ok if you like the perfume, but otherwise it is distracting, gets up your nose and tries to spilt your head in half. It's a strange phenomenon, but your sense of smell seems to get heightened when your other senses are slowed. No deodorant seems to go against all well taught and life long practices of hygiene, but it really is unnecessary in cold weather when practicing yoga and in summer, if you are a pongy boy, maybe a shower before a class will help or mild deodorant will suffice.
What else can you expect in a yoga class? Falling out of poses, due to a lack of balance - I do it all of the time (thanks for that MS), odd poses that seem to just be completely against nature and how the body was designed to move and of course, giggling. I try not to giggle at anyone else - it's hard sometimes, but I definitely giggle at myself, a lot. For example last night the instructor was demonstrating a handstand, where the front of his body and face was right up against the wall. It looked wrong and contrary to any handstands I've ever done up against a wall where my face and body look away from the wall... not that I’ve practiced any handstands for the last twenty years! There was a collective "what the..." sigh from the room, and my next question, with a giggle was, how do you get down?
Farts!!! It's very likely you will hear farts in a yoga class - probably not from me, but from an older woman or man. Clearly if you are offended by farts, then yoga may not be the exercise for you. I try not to laugh... because it would be rude and interrupting to the class but I certainly have a hearty chuckle on the inside. I'll let you in on a secret... when you are walking from your car to the studio get those farts out because it is really hard not to let rip in some of the more demanding poses.
This is my experience of yoga. I love it and believe it is good for me (and my MS, husband and children) and probably you too – so get cracking down to your local yoga studio and give it a go!
About after a week of uni being over, my husband came home from work and gave me a gentle prod in the right direction... I thought you might go to yoga tonight. My response was, oh I think it's the beginner’s course tonight and I'm not sure if the voucher is valid for that. Why don't you make a call and find out. Ok then. So it turns out the voucher was valid and the instructor was (now) expecting me! I quickly got ready and got my sore backed, no core strength body to the studio pronto.
The one thing I remember about my experience of yoga the first time around, was how quickly my neck pain settled and how I could stretch the whole back of my neck on the ground when I was lying prone. It was pretty impressive because I had terrible neck pain and headaches and had gotten to a place where I thought I would just have to accept that I was a person with a sore neck, whose physio could make feel better for a while... just not permanently. It really was surprising how quickly I felt benefits from yoga for my whole body and mind.
Even though I was not a beginner in yoga, the beginner’s course is a pretty good place to start for anyone. The instructor takes things slowly and explains all the postures thoroughly. But what's even better is that everyone else in the class is likely a novice, so I was not walking into a studio of elastic bands, who could wrap their legs behind their heads, which is really, really unsettling and intimidating. I know that’s a pretty silly mind set to have... but I am just a little bit competitive. Anyways, for good measure I still headed to the back of the room where I could gauge everyone else’s abilities against mine... and so no one could watch me stick my bum in the air.
I have done just over three weeks of yoga now - that is about ten sessions. I definitely feel like I have been doing some form of exercise. I really believe that my posture has improved and that I have gained some core strength. My back still hurts in the morning when I wake up, but it is a little less sore during the day. I bet it would be a hell of a lot better if I could just stop carting my two year old sumo toddler around. However I do find after a yoga lesson, it is not sore at all - there is much to be said for an hour and a half of complete body stretching. I feel healthier and as a result that healthiness carries all through my life... not that I ate really badly three weeks ago, but I think I am making healthier food choices now and shoving less into my mouth too. So maybe yoga is suppressing my horse appetite! I'm only a couple of kilos away from my pre-baby weight, which means I have lost three kilograms by not even trying. Yay!
So what do I love about yoga??? I really love the discipline involved in holding the form of the poses even when the burn kicks in or the stretch is tight, some might say that I am a glutton for punishment... but not me. After a recent class I was thinking about why I was feeling so jubilant. During and after a really good stretch, which yoga is, where my muscles have burned and extended past where they might usually go, I feel deeply relaxed and pristinely calm. I guess it's all those lovely endorphins flooding into my blood. During classes I have noticed my thoughts slow right down to a single stream. Usually that thought is about the stretch and breathing into that stretch... I'm not even sure if that is even a thought actually, or whether my mind has broken from being totally absorbed in the process of breathing and stretching to notice what I am actually doing. I have a very, very busy, messy mind and it likes to multi-task, thus it is so refreshing when there is just one stream of communication going on in there. The only other times my mind slows down to such an extent is if I have done a guided meditation or have had a big night, am tired and probably hungover and then just sit and observe rather than process.
These are some of the things about yoga that I think you need to know if you are a newby to the practice. I always felt compelled to wear super loose and baggy clothes, but this is not the way to go. Why, I hear you ask. Well you are going to spending a fair amount of time with your head down towards your knees and the floor, if you don't believe me google downward dog. So if your head and chest are down it is highly likely you will flash your post baby flab where your stomach used to be (in my case) and boobies to anyone else in the room who is not concentrating on their pose and is looking around the room. Also flappy, baggy pants tend to get caught as you step your leg through a pose, causing you to awkwardly loose your balance, which is not at all a graceful, elegant or controlled look.
The yoga instructor will tell you not to eat a large meal right before a class, because digestion requires the blood that your muscles will need for stretching and so there will be a big fight for resources. If you do eat a big meal you will probably feel sick, bloated and generally yuck - I'm sure we've all been there. He or she might say don't eat anything within a couple of hours of the class. I will agree with this, but in the first few classes I attended, half way through my mind started yelling at me - I've had enough of this poxy class - get me out, NOW! It took couple of slinging matches and slog fests before I worked it out... I hadn't had enough to eat leading up to the class to sustain my blood sugar throughout it’s duration. So while it would be ridiculous to eat a main meal right before a class, a small snack is not out of the question.
No freshly applied perfume or strong B.O Killer please. Deodorant and perfume waft through a warm yoga class quickly. It's ok if you like the perfume, but otherwise it is distracting, gets up your nose and tries to spilt your head in half. It's a strange phenomenon, but your sense of smell seems to get heightened when your other senses are slowed. No deodorant seems to go against all well taught and life long practices of hygiene, but it really is unnecessary in cold weather when practicing yoga and in summer, if you are a pongy boy, maybe a shower before a class will help or mild deodorant will suffice.
What else can you expect in a yoga class? Falling out of poses, due to a lack of balance - I do it all of the time (thanks for that MS), odd poses that seem to just be completely against nature and how the body was designed to move and of course, giggling. I try not to giggle at anyone else - it's hard sometimes, but I definitely giggle at myself, a lot. For example last night the instructor was demonstrating a handstand, where the front of his body and face was right up against the wall. It looked wrong and contrary to any handstands I've ever done up against a wall where my face and body look away from the wall... not that I’ve practiced any handstands for the last twenty years! There was a collective "what the..." sigh from the room, and my next question, with a giggle was, how do you get down?
Farts!!! It's very likely you will hear farts in a yoga class - probably not from me, but from an older woman or man. Clearly if you are offended by farts, then yoga may not be the exercise for you. I try not to laugh... because it would be rude and interrupting to the class but I certainly have a hearty chuckle on the inside. I'll let you in on a secret... when you are walking from your car to the studio get those farts out because it is really hard not to let rip in some of the more demanding poses.
This is my experience of yoga. I love it and believe it is good for me (and my MS, husband and children) and probably you too – so get cracking down to your local yoga studio and give it a go!
Friday, July 8, 2011
Earrings for the Five Year Old Wailing Warrior Princess
My husband and I had discussed when our daughter, Chynna would be allowed to get her ears pierced. It wasn't a big thing, but we decided that when she asked for it to be done, we would take her to the shop and get them done. It didn’t matter to us if she was six or thirty-six.
The question started appearing last year... she has some friends at school who have their ears pierced and she started to become aware of what I had dangling off my ears. When we walked by a hairdresser, beauticians or pharmacy we would say, do you want to get your ears pierced today and she would say, uh... no, or I want to do it when Gran is with us (or Dad, depending on who wasn't with us at the time). So we'd just keep walking... no biggie.
Sometimes Chynna would ask if it hurt to have your ears pierced. I had my ears done when I was about 10 or 11, so I can't remember what it was like. I'd take a wild stab (haha) and suggest that it did hurt, but it's not like I have any mental scarring from the ordeal. But what do you tell a (then) four year old? I couldn't lie - so I said, I don't remember, but I guess it would "sting". She would screw up her little face, as she's not particularly tempted by anything that stings - smacks, bees, needles... ears pierced.
There is a lot to be said for getting a baby's ears pierced, when they are only weeks old. Lets face it... it is probably going to make the baby cry, but they won't remember it for long and well, they are saved any of the anxiety that goes along with the event when they are older. I also like the idea that a baby doesn't even know it has ears, thus it probably isn't going to spend any huge amount of time purposefully playing with the new foreign objects sticking out from it's ears - thus avoiding the prolonged process of infection.
Not long after Chynna's 5th birthday, we arrived at school to discover that Chynna's best friend's younger sister had her ears pierced. Special K (as she is known) was around five months at the time. Chynna's first question was, did Special K cry? The answer was no, as they put some numbing cream on her ears first. That was that... she said, mummy I want to get my ears pierced. I said, oh when, like this afternoon after school, thinking she would say no when Daddy can come. But to my surprise she agreed. Which was funny, because her Daddy couldn't have been further away. He was in the north of WA on a work trip for a couple of days.
After school, I didn't mention anything about ears. I figured that I'd let the little sausage approach me if she remembered and really wanted her ears done. I thought if I didn't mention it, then I might just save myself an unnecessary trip to the shops. Except, she bounded out of class and asked when we were going!
Chynna sat in the chair at the beauticians cautiously, with her eyes wide (not that you can see that in the pic). I seriously believed she would back out at any moment. While we were waiting, a girl, a few years old than Chynna had her ears re-pierced. It was quick and the girl barely blinked and she had no numbing cream. It was like all the planets and stars of the universe were perfectly aligned for ear piercing.
Chynna chose a little pair of pink flower earrings exactly like Special K's. Then the very young beautician... yeah what’s with that - young girls puncturing young girls ears? I did look around for a much more experienced elderly woman to attend to Chynna's ears but there was only more young girls... (whoa there nelly, does that mean... I'm getting old?) Then the very young beautician applied the numbing cream and told Chynna, not to touch it - good test for the real deal and to come back in half an hour. We trotted off to Gloria Jeans, for a babyccino and a vanilla soy latte because what else would you do for half an hour?
It's quite surprising how long half an hour can take when your five year old is both eager and anxious about something. We wandered back to the shop. I really wanted to say, you can back out if you want sweetheart, but didn't. I was quite sure Chynna would burst into tears and not go through with it; in fact I would have put money on it. The chances of her being a brave warrior princess were definitely so small in my mind that she didn't need me adding to her anxiety.
While the two beauticians drew dots on Chynna's ears and lined up the piercing guns I wondered what was going through Chynna's mind. Do five years have self-talk? Was her mind blank? Was she telling herself it wouldn't hurt or it would hurt? Nothing on her face gave whatever she was thinking away. The girls counted – one, two, three and then pressed the triggers. They made a loud dull clicking noise and an "ouch" escaped from Chynna's mouth, followed by clenched teeth and wide eyes. Maybe 20 seconds later she took a breath and asked for a mirror. It was quite amusing in hindsight.
She managed not to tell her Dad on the phone that night and the next that she had her ears pierced. It took a bit of coaching, but even if she had let it slip, I’m not sure he wouldn’t have believed her anyway. When he did come home, Chynna forgot she had something important to tell him. She was just pretty darned excited to have her Dad home. He noticed, but played along until she remembered. He was quite surprised and questioned me thoroughly… in case I had held her down or something!!
Six weeks later, with no infections, Chynna was all ready to change her earring for the first time. Now this is something I do remember. It was tricky for my Mum to push the sleeper earrings into my ears and it hurt. Thus I was not looking forward to changing Chynna's earrings. She desperately wanted it done, but was freaking out at the same time. When I did get my fingers on her earrings, I couldn't get them undone anyway. I pulled and pulled and Chynna got more and more upset, so I gave up, suggesting we pay a visit to the young beauticians.
Later that day, the young beautician insisted that all I needed to do was get a good grip and yank the earrings apart. She offered to do it for me, but Chynna was not at all up for that. I thought this may have been the end of the earring changing rigmarole... but it was not. The following morning she asked me to do it again. This time the brave warrior princess curled up on the couch in a tight ball whenever I got within five meters of her. Eventually she got up onto a stool and the first earring came out with a big jerk and some wailing (from both of us). The second earring was trickier and it actually broke off, but at least it was out. Her ears looked good, clearly the thought of pain had mostly kept fiddling fingers away from her ears.
The brave warrior princess was beside herself at the thought of having to put new earrings in. It didn't matter how I explained it, ie the hole is already there... she refused to sit still and when she finally did she howled loudly like I was about to cut off her ear. Eventually we got the new sparkly earrings in and at school she proudly showed them off to whoever would listen.
It's been a couple of weeks now and the brave warrior princess hasn't asked to have her earrings changed again. Even after her bestie turned up at school with a cute dangly pair. Maybe we’ll just start an earring collection for when she can change her own earrings in ten years time instead.
The question started appearing last year... she has some friends at school who have their ears pierced and she started to become aware of what I had dangling off my ears. When we walked by a hairdresser, beauticians or pharmacy we would say, do you want to get your ears pierced today and she would say, uh... no, or I want to do it when Gran is with us (or Dad, depending on who wasn't with us at the time). So we'd just keep walking... no biggie.
Sometimes Chynna would ask if it hurt to have your ears pierced. I had my ears done when I was about 10 or 11, so I can't remember what it was like. I'd take a wild stab (haha) and suggest that it did hurt, but it's not like I have any mental scarring from the ordeal. But what do you tell a (then) four year old? I couldn't lie - so I said, I don't remember, but I guess it would "sting". She would screw up her little face, as she's not particularly tempted by anything that stings - smacks, bees, needles... ears pierced.
There is a lot to be said for getting a baby's ears pierced, when they are only weeks old. Lets face it... it is probably going to make the baby cry, but they won't remember it for long and well, they are saved any of the anxiety that goes along with the event when they are older. I also like the idea that a baby doesn't even know it has ears, thus it probably isn't going to spend any huge amount of time purposefully playing with the new foreign objects sticking out from it's ears - thus avoiding the prolonged process of infection.
Not long after Chynna's 5th birthday, we arrived at school to discover that Chynna's best friend's younger sister had her ears pierced. Special K (as she is known) was around five months at the time. Chynna's first question was, did Special K cry? The answer was no, as they put some numbing cream on her ears first. That was that... she said, mummy I want to get my ears pierced. I said, oh when, like this afternoon after school, thinking she would say no when Daddy can come. But to my surprise she agreed. Which was funny, because her Daddy couldn't have been further away. He was in the north of WA on a work trip for a couple of days.
After school, I didn't mention anything about ears. I figured that I'd let the little sausage approach me if she remembered and really wanted her ears done. I thought if I didn't mention it, then I might just save myself an unnecessary trip to the shops. Except, she bounded out of class and asked when we were going!
Chynna chose a little pair of pink flower earrings exactly like Special K's. Then the very young beautician... yeah what’s with that - young girls puncturing young girls ears? I did look around for a much more experienced elderly woman to attend to Chynna's ears but there was only more young girls... (whoa there nelly, does that mean... I'm getting old?) Then the very young beautician applied the numbing cream and told Chynna, not to touch it - good test for the real deal and to come back in half an hour. We trotted off to Gloria Jeans, for a babyccino and a vanilla soy latte because what else would you do for half an hour? It's quite surprising how long half an hour can take when your five year old is both eager and anxious about something. We wandered back to the shop. I really wanted to say, you can back out if you want sweetheart, but didn't. I was quite sure Chynna would burst into tears and not go through with it; in fact I would have put money on it. The chances of her being a brave warrior princess were definitely so small in my mind that she didn't need me adding to her anxiety.
While the two beauticians drew dots on Chynna's ears and lined up the piercing guns I wondered what was going through Chynna's mind. Do five years have self-talk? Was her mind blank? Was she telling herself it wouldn't hurt or it would hurt? Nothing on her face gave whatever she was thinking away. The girls counted – one, two, three and then pressed the triggers. They made a loud dull clicking noise and an "ouch" escaped from Chynna's mouth, followed by clenched teeth and wide eyes. Maybe 20 seconds later she took a breath and asked for a mirror. It was quite amusing in hindsight. She managed not to tell her Dad on the phone that night and the next that she had her ears pierced. It took a bit of coaching, but even if she had let it slip, I’m not sure he wouldn’t have believed her anyway. When he did come home, Chynna forgot she had something important to tell him. She was just pretty darned excited to have her Dad home. He noticed, but played along until she remembered. He was quite surprised and questioned me thoroughly… in case I had held her down or something!!
Six weeks later, with no infections, Chynna was all ready to change her earring for the first time. Now this is something I do remember. It was tricky for my Mum to push the sleeper earrings into my ears and it hurt. Thus I was not looking forward to changing Chynna's earrings. She desperately wanted it done, but was freaking out at the same time. When I did get my fingers on her earrings, I couldn't get them undone anyway. I pulled and pulled and Chynna got more and more upset, so I gave up, suggesting we pay a visit to the young beauticians.Later that day, the young beautician insisted that all I needed to do was get a good grip and yank the earrings apart. She offered to do it for me, but Chynna was not at all up for that. I thought this may have been the end of the earring changing rigmarole... but it was not. The following morning she asked me to do it again. This time the brave warrior princess curled up on the couch in a tight ball whenever I got within five meters of her. Eventually she got up onto a stool and the first earring came out with a big jerk and some wailing (from both of us). The second earring was trickier and it actually broke off, but at least it was out. Her ears looked good, clearly the thought of pain had mostly kept fiddling fingers away from her ears.
The brave warrior princess was beside herself at the thought of having to put new earrings in. It didn't matter how I explained it, ie the hole is already there... she refused to sit still and when she finally did she howled loudly like I was about to cut off her ear. Eventually we got the new sparkly earrings in and at school she proudly showed them off to whoever would listen.
It's been a couple of weeks now and the brave warrior princess hasn't asked to have her earrings changed again. Even after her bestie turned up at school with a cute dangly pair. Maybe we’ll just start an earring collection for when she can change her own earrings in ten years time instead.
Fifth Birthday Party
I was going to write a chirpy little piece about my daughter’s birthday party which was yonks ago now... but it seems I have inadvertently deleted the pics I took at her party... so it's not so chirpy anymore. I don't know how I did it, or even when, but I spent a good two hours checking if I could get them back. However as I am not a computer whiz, the simple answer is no-siree those photos are gone for good! If anyone has any suggestions on how to get my photos back feel free to leave me a comment.
My daughters 5th birthday party was on the 1st of May. I spent the entire day before her party, making party food for her self selected 40 friends, some of whom had RSVPed and some of whom had not. The big thing with five year olds is that their parents tend to stay at the party as well... (I'm sure it wasn't like that when I was five - my mum would have gladly jumped at the chance to be one daughter down for a few hours) so in fact I was actually catering for 80-odd people. There was a lot of food - loads in fact... better to have more than less I say, luckily for me most of it was eaten, otherwise I would have been eating left over party food for a few days.
I worked right up until the party commencement time, putting the doll in the cake skirt and fancying her up. Have you ever made a doll skirt cake? My biggest concern was cutting the hole in the middle of the cake to put the doll in. I only had a small surface area to work with at the top of the bell shape cake that was to become the skirt. I had a bit of an audience too you see and my mum said, oh just shove a knife into it, it'll be alright and when I stood there procrastinating she said, do you want me to do it? Of course I didn’t want her to do it, but I didn't want to spoil the cake either because with only an hour left until the party, I couldn't really whip up another one!! I selected the longest knife, to the cheers of my across the road neighbours who were now eager to see me destroy the cake (or slit my own wrists!) I gently inserted the knife into the cake, twirled it around and then used the handle of a wooden spoon to push out the cake. Then I put ballerina Barbie into her cake skirt and not all together unexpectedly the skirt was too short. Unless ballerina Barbie was really gangster hip hop Barbie with her whole rear end poking out the top of her skirt, she was going to need some serious icing up.
The meringue icing I used was incredible and easy to make - thanks Dee. It's so good; I'm going to write the recipe out right now... in case you would like to make your own doll skirt cake, or any other cake for that matter that needs some scrumdiddlyumptious meringue icing.
Scrumdiddlyumptious Meringue Icing
1 cup white sugar
1/3 cup water
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
Place above ingredients in a pot on the stove until dissolved and bubbling.
Beat 2 egg whites until peaks form.
Slowly add in sugar syrup, while continuing to beat.
Add icing sugar if consistency is not to your liking.
It's ready when you have peaks that hold their shape. Add food colouring as required.
My daughters 5th birthday party was on the 1st of May. I spent the entire day before her party, making party food for her self selected 40 friends, some of whom had RSVPed and some of whom had not. The big thing with five year olds is that their parents tend to stay at the party as well... (I'm sure it wasn't like that when I was five - my mum would have gladly jumped at the chance to be one daughter down for a few hours) so in fact I was actually catering for 80-odd people. There was a lot of food - loads in fact... better to have more than less I say, luckily for me most of it was eaten, otherwise I would have been eating left over party food for a few days.
I worked right up until the party commencement time, putting the doll in the cake skirt and fancying her up. Have you ever made a doll skirt cake? My biggest concern was cutting the hole in the middle of the cake to put the doll in. I only had a small surface area to work with at the top of the bell shape cake that was to become the skirt. I had a bit of an audience too you see and my mum said, oh just shove a knife into it, it'll be alright and when I stood there procrastinating she said, do you want me to do it? Of course I didn’t want her to do it, but I didn't want to spoil the cake either because with only an hour left until the party, I couldn't really whip up another one!! I selected the longest knife, to the cheers of my across the road neighbours who were now eager to see me destroy the cake (or slit my own wrists!) I gently inserted the knife into the cake, twirled it around and then used the handle of a wooden spoon to push out the cake. Then I put ballerina Barbie into her cake skirt and not all together unexpectedly the skirt was too short. Unless ballerina Barbie was really gangster hip hop Barbie with her whole rear end poking out the top of her skirt, she was going to need some serious icing up.
The meringue icing I used was incredible and easy to make - thanks Dee. It's so good; I'm going to write the recipe out right now... in case you would like to make your own doll skirt cake, or any other cake for that matter that needs some scrumdiddlyumptious meringue icing.
Scrumdiddlyumptious Meringue Icing
1 cup white sugar
1/3 cup water
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
Place above ingredients in a pot on the stove until dissolved and bubbling.
Beat 2 egg whites until peaks form.
Slowly add in sugar syrup, while continuing to beat.
Add icing sugar if consistency is not to your liking.
It's ready when you have peaks that hold their shape. Add food colouring as required.
Anyhoo... I iced up Barbie in pretty purple scrumdiddlyumptious meringue icing, as requested by Chynna. (We also chose a brunette Barbie, because she was most like Chynna). I added some cake glitter, some pretty icing flowers and some little silver glittery flower shapes, which the cake decorating store assistant said were edible. In hindsight, the fact that the glittery flower shapes did not dissolve on my tongue and got stuck in my teeth probably indicates they were glittery plastic flower shapes and that (maybe) I misheard the shop assistant or he didn't know what he was talking about! Either way the cake was a success - one, because it was pretty and two, because by the time we cut it everyone was too full to eat too much cake to care that the little silver glittery flower shapes were not at all edible!
It seems that most of the kids in Chynna's class at school are born around the same time. We receive a rather large amount of birthday invitations around April every year. Pretty much we have a party or two every weekend in April and a party once a fortnight in March - so we have been to Fun Station parties, pool parties, had an icecream van come to a party, parties in the park, parties at McDonalds, face painting parties etc etc. I thought we'd try something different, as I seemed to have acquired an abundance of craft paraphernalia from my husband's nana. She is craft mad - I am not, unless I can do it somewhere other than my home where I don't have to clean up! I decided to make an exception and decided we would make party hats with the said craft paraphernalia. The girls were all for it, the boys not so much. If you ever decide to make party hats at a five year old party, make sure you have strong, quick drying glue, as five years have no capacity what so ever for delayed gratification of party hat wearing, oh and perhaps limit the use of glitter unless you want it all through your house and garden for the next month!
I also decided the kids would make their own pizzas too. We brought some mini pizza bases, grated pizza cheese, shredded ham and the other usual toppings that would go on an adult pizza - note the use of “adult”, because only three or so kids were interested in anything other than ham, cheese, onion and tomato sauce!! Most turned up their noses at pineapple, or even chicken. It seems that perhaps all five year olds and not just my Chynna are F-U-S-S-Y. The pizzas were a hit, even if my family of four made and ate pizza for the next few evenings. Chynna was pleased because even though she is fussy about her toppings, she would gladly eat cheese pizza, with a sprinkling of ham every night.
Ryan took all the kids to the park next to our house. He played the ogre with all the chocolate and lollies and the kids had to steal it from him. He's just a big kid at heart, so he didn't mind that he got pounced on. I had some pics of this... but you'll just have to use your imagination - sorry.
Now some observations for you. Even if your party guests parents hang around at the party, do not expect that they will keep their child under control. I'm not sure if these parents think staying at the party is the same as leaving the party as far their child's behaviour is concerned, because some parents had no issue with their kids running through the house, crazily climbing play equipment or furniture and generally being annoying little brats. Did they expect that the hosts would take control of their children, even though they were still at the party? I know that if Chynna behaved in a similar fashion at a party and didn't desist when asked we would have left the party and probably have missed the next one for good measure. We had some family members come along and people we consider friends with kids at the party, who commented on the behaviour... so it's not just my high (haha) standards talking either. C'mon parents, if your child is at a party and you stay - you are not miraculously absolved of any parenting duties while at the party.
My last observation...was that two years ago, when Chynna turned three we had the Cuddly Animal Farm, visit our home. They had a pony for pony rides, and all the usual cute farm animals for kids to hold and pat. It was a huge party with ridiculous amounts of children between two and eight running amok on our back block. I remembered as I was in a mad rush to ice the Barbie cake, that I had said to my husband, after the crazy animal farm party that we weren't doing another party at home for a very, very long time, like until Chynna turned 18 and could help us clean up (yes I know, like that's ever gonna happen). The year after the crazy animal farm party for Chynna's 4th birthday, we had a party at the Fun Station. I had to prepare a few party sandwiches, cupcakes and some lolly bags, but generally the kids just played on all the climbing equipment and at the end we all went home with no mess to clean up. But somewhere between that party and this party - the memory of no parties at home for a very very long time failed to be recalled at the appropriate time!
So I am writing it down. No more parties at home with large numbers of kids for a very, very long time.
But then again, who could resist a request from faces like these?
My last observation...was that two years ago, when Chynna turned three we had the Cuddly Animal Farm, visit our home. They had a pony for pony rides, and all the usual cute farm animals for kids to hold and pat. It was a huge party with ridiculous amounts of children between two and eight running amok on our back block. I remembered as I was in a mad rush to ice the Barbie cake, that I had said to my husband, after the crazy animal farm party that we weren't doing another party at home for a very, very long time, like until Chynna turned 18 and could help us clean up (yes I know, like that's ever gonna happen). The year after the crazy animal farm party for Chynna's 4th birthday, we had a party at the Fun Station. I had to prepare a few party sandwiches, cupcakes and some lolly bags, but generally the kids just played on all the climbing equipment and at the end we all went home with no mess to clean up. But somewhere between that party and this party - the memory of no parties at home for a very very long time failed to be recalled at the appropriate time!
So I am writing it down. No more parties at home with large numbers of kids for a very, very long time.
But then again, who could resist a request from faces like these?
Chynna, the little cherub (butter wouldn't melt in her mouth) has the red and white dress on. It's not a great pic of the cake, but all the good ones have disappeared into the abyss known as my computer. I was just lucky that I gave a copy of this photo to a friend.
No more parties at home with large numbers of kids for a very, very long time... No more parties at home with large numbers of kids for a very, very long time... No more parties at home with large numbers of kids for a very, very long time.... Please holey MS brain remember.
No more parties at home with large numbers of kids for a very, very long time... No more parties at home with large numbers of kids for a very, very long time... No more parties at home with large numbers of kids for a very, very long time.... Please holey MS brain remember.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
MRI Tips & Results
Okey dokey then, so the results of my latest MRI are in.
But before we get to that... I mentioned in an earlier post that I am quite okay with being slid into a Magnetic Resonance (MR) machine, with a cage over my head. But I wanted to contribute my tips for making your stay in the MR machine a little less stressful. Well, anyhow this is what I do... and it works for me, so maybe it could work for you too.
I acknowledge that I am going to have an MR session. It sounds stupidly obvious, but I think it is important to say, yes I am going to have an MRI and it is my choice to do so for my health. I was lucky for my latest appointment that the scanning place makes phone calls to confirm appointments, because I forgot totally and so did my diary... big oops! I did acknowledge the fact that I wanted to have my MRI, but it was just much, much later than normal. No harm, no foul though.
I try not to dwell on having an MRI, or entertain any anxious thoughts or linger on the fact that I might need to have the gadolinium contrast because the first time I was given it, it made me tremendously nauseous (and if you have read my randomness page you will know I hate even the thought of being sick). I also try not to obsess on what the MRI might find... (I’m almost too superstitious to write the dreaded word)- progression. The flip side is much better to mull over - so try that - maybe your MS hasn't done much and has been behaving like a peaceful sleeping baby.
I make sure that my husband is able to come along and wait for me. When you are in the MR machine it is comforting to know that someone in the waiting room is there just for you and they will buy you a stiff drink afterwards if that’s what you feel like.
Before you are confronted with the MR machine... know what you need to be comfortable and do it or ask for it. The dudes (could be dudette) doing the scanning want the same result as you - good clear pictures and the way to achieve this is by the client, ie you, being comfortable. The things I need to be comfortable in the machine are padding under my head - I'll never forget the time when the back of my head being aching then burning in pain after half an hour on a hard cold slab of plastic with at least another half an hour to go. I also like to have lots of padding under my knees, otherwise my back aches and of course, a blankie to keep me warm. I find it best to keep my socks on too, because I can't handle, in any shape or form, cold feet. In the past I have also asked for a CD of my favourite music to be played, which I brought along, but even though it was played directly into the machine I couldn't hear it! So I skip that now.
It's also imperative to tell the scanner dude about any bad experiences you may have had, such as me with gadolinium. I was told some of the reasons why I could have had such a reaction, and one of those was that perhaps the gadolinium was injected too quickly... so more care was taken and I was fine the next time it was administered.
Before I am in the MR machine, I also like to clarify when I will be able to cough or wriggle. I usually ask that the scanner dude informs me when it will be okay to move. If I have a cough I mention it because it is more likely the dude will allow me a chance to cough up a lung after I have been holding onto a tickle for 10 minutes that wants to explode into a cough.
When I am in the MR machine I generally begin by listening to the sounds it makes... and I try (don't laugh) to turn the sounds into words and just repeat that word over and over until the sound changes then I begin the process all over again. One of the words I remember from my last MRI was "Simon, Simon, Simon". It's not hard to do, especially since with ear plugs and padding over my ears I could still hear the drumming... and what else are you going to do when you aren’t allowed to move huh?
The next strategy I might try to pass time in a MR machine, especially if I have an ache or am cold... (again don't laugh) is I imagine I am butter melting in the sun. If you are saturated fat conscious or vegetarian I guess you could imagine you were margarine melting in the sun - the effect would, I'm sure, be the same. You have to imagine your butter body melting slowly onto the table, melting over the ache, or warming up. It sounds ridiculous, but the more elaborate and the more involved you get the better it will be. Sometimes I have imagined I am butter melting into beach sand just for extra thought blocking power! Remember a block of butter melting in the sun will be a slow process - it's an old relaxation technique and it really works. Try it next time you are on the slab.
The next technique I try and which again requires a good deal of imagination, but is very good if you are starting to get anxious, is how I would spend a lotto win of 37 million dollars. I start off with how I found out I won, did I watch the draw on TV or was I standing at a kiosk, did I faint on the spot, jump around squealing or just stand there with my mouth wide open? How did I tell my husband, how did he react? Who would I give some money too and how much? How would I spend the rest? It is not enough to say oh I would spend it on a holiday, a new car and renovations but you have to embellish your spending spree as much as possible - live it in your mind. For example for a new car I might run through all my favourite cars, imagine them in different colours, imagine test driving them fast around a winding road, making a decision and then paying the salesperson cash etc. The key is detail and lots of it because it distracts you from where you currently are. It's also really important to feel the emotion surrounding such a windfall... for me it would be elation, because then, if you get into it enough, you might just forget that you are freaking out.
After you are out of the MR machine, I find its best just to get on with what ever you have to do for the day. On the occasion I had a bad experience with gadolinium, I tried not to dwell on it. Knowing that if I did, it would scare the heck out of me for next time. I did need to examine those thoughts and anxiety about having gadolinium, but I tried to look at them a few days later when the freshness of the experience had dissipated. We all know that if you are upset or anxious your thoughts will be horribly distorted... and well it's probably best that these aren't what you program your mind and body with since, if you have MS, you are likely to be having many more MRI's in your lifetime.
For me these things work... and work well. For my last MRI I fell asleep. My husband was waiting for me and after an hour and fifteen minutes he asked a nurse where I was. Other being woken every now and again by a voice asking me if I was okay, or if I needed to cough I think my (non) ordeal felt like it took fifteen minutes. Yay!
All right then, here are my all-important results... has Mr C been doing his job?
Here are the comments for my MRI of the brain. Slight progression since the previous imaging with one new lesion identified, but no active enhancing lesions demonstrated.
And the comments for my MRI of the spine, no definite new lesion or progressive disease is identified in the cord and no evidence of progressive cord atrophy.
Sounds like Mr C might just be doing his job in defending my myelin. Good on you Mr C. However it was a little disconcerting to read that my one, currently not active new lesion was 5mm LARGE. This is my biggest one to date. I don't know if it big compared to other people's lesions or if it's location (in the subcortical white matter at the superior aspect of the right parietal lobe) is significant or not. Some of my older lesions are showing evidence of cavitation, whatever the hell that means… While I don’t know what that means, I reckon I know what caused my new lesion and the cavitation... the 4th year statistics I was studying at uni this semester. I couldn't work out where all the stats knowledge was going and clearly it was escaping into my 5mm big black hole and cavities never to be found again!
What I really do know is that my neurologist has not schedule an appointment for me, so he must be happy with my results. So if he’s happy, so am I. What else could I ask for? Hmmm, how about no MS and 37 million dollars!
But before we get to that... I mentioned in an earlier post that I am quite okay with being slid into a Magnetic Resonance (MR) machine, with a cage over my head. But I wanted to contribute my tips for making your stay in the MR machine a little less stressful. Well, anyhow this is what I do... and it works for me, so maybe it could work for you too.
I acknowledge that I am going to have an MR session. It sounds stupidly obvious, but I think it is important to say, yes I am going to have an MRI and it is my choice to do so for my health. I was lucky for my latest appointment that the scanning place makes phone calls to confirm appointments, because I forgot totally and so did my diary... big oops! I did acknowledge the fact that I wanted to have my MRI, but it was just much, much later than normal. No harm, no foul though.
I try not to dwell on having an MRI, or entertain any anxious thoughts or linger on the fact that I might need to have the gadolinium contrast because the first time I was given it, it made me tremendously nauseous (and if you have read my randomness page you will know I hate even the thought of being sick). I also try not to obsess on what the MRI might find... (I’m almost too superstitious to write the dreaded word)- progression. The flip side is much better to mull over - so try that - maybe your MS hasn't done much and has been behaving like a peaceful sleeping baby.
I make sure that my husband is able to come along and wait for me. When you are in the MR machine it is comforting to know that someone in the waiting room is there just for you and they will buy you a stiff drink afterwards if that’s what you feel like.
Before you are confronted with the MR machine... know what you need to be comfortable and do it or ask for it. The dudes (could be dudette) doing the scanning want the same result as you - good clear pictures and the way to achieve this is by the client, ie you, being comfortable. The things I need to be comfortable in the machine are padding under my head - I'll never forget the time when the back of my head being aching then burning in pain after half an hour on a hard cold slab of plastic with at least another half an hour to go. I also like to have lots of padding under my knees, otherwise my back aches and of course, a blankie to keep me warm. I find it best to keep my socks on too, because I can't handle, in any shape or form, cold feet. In the past I have also asked for a CD of my favourite music to be played, which I brought along, but even though it was played directly into the machine I couldn't hear it! So I skip that now.
It's also imperative to tell the scanner dude about any bad experiences you may have had, such as me with gadolinium. I was told some of the reasons why I could have had such a reaction, and one of those was that perhaps the gadolinium was injected too quickly... so more care was taken and I was fine the next time it was administered.
Before I am in the MR machine, I also like to clarify when I will be able to cough or wriggle. I usually ask that the scanner dude informs me when it will be okay to move. If I have a cough I mention it because it is more likely the dude will allow me a chance to cough up a lung after I have been holding onto a tickle for 10 minutes that wants to explode into a cough.
When I am in the MR machine I generally begin by listening to the sounds it makes... and I try (don't laugh) to turn the sounds into words and just repeat that word over and over until the sound changes then I begin the process all over again. One of the words I remember from my last MRI was "Simon, Simon, Simon". It's not hard to do, especially since with ear plugs and padding over my ears I could still hear the drumming... and what else are you going to do when you aren’t allowed to move huh?
The next strategy I might try to pass time in a MR machine, especially if I have an ache or am cold... (again don't laugh) is I imagine I am butter melting in the sun. If you are saturated fat conscious or vegetarian I guess you could imagine you were margarine melting in the sun - the effect would, I'm sure, be the same. You have to imagine your butter body melting slowly onto the table, melting over the ache, or warming up. It sounds ridiculous, but the more elaborate and the more involved you get the better it will be. Sometimes I have imagined I am butter melting into beach sand just for extra thought blocking power! Remember a block of butter melting in the sun will be a slow process - it's an old relaxation technique and it really works. Try it next time you are on the slab.
The next technique I try and which again requires a good deal of imagination, but is very good if you are starting to get anxious, is how I would spend a lotto win of 37 million dollars. I start off with how I found out I won, did I watch the draw on TV or was I standing at a kiosk, did I faint on the spot, jump around squealing or just stand there with my mouth wide open? How did I tell my husband, how did he react? Who would I give some money too and how much? How would I spend the rest? It is not enough to say oh I would spend it on a holiday, a new car and renovations but you have to embellish your spending spree as much as possible - live it in your mind. For example for a new car I might run through all my favourite cars, imagine them in different colours, imagine test driving them fast around a winding road, making a decision and then paying the salesperson cash etc. The key is detail and lots of it because it distracts you from where you currently are. It's also really important to feel the emotion surrounding such a windfall... for me it would be elation, because then, if you get into it enough, you might just forget that you are freaking out.
After you are out of the MR machine, I find its best just to get on with what ever you have to do for the day. On the occasion I had a bad experience with gadolinium, I tried not to dwell on it. Knowing that if I did, it would scare the heck out of me for next time. I did need to examine those thoughts and anxiety about having gadolinium, but I tried to look at them a few days later when the freshness of the experience had dissipated. We all know that if you are upset or anxious your thoughts will be horribly distorted... and well it's probably best that these aren't what you program your mind and body with since, if you have MS, you are likely to be having many more MRI's in your lifetime.
For me these things work... and work well. For my last MRI I fell asleep. My husband was waiting for me and after an hour and fifteen minutes he asked a nurse where I was. Other being woken every now and again by a voice asking me if I was okay, or if I needed to cough I think my (non) ordeal felt like it took fifteen minutes. Yay!
All right then, here are my all-important results... has Mr C been doing his job?
Here are the comments for my MRI of the brain. Slight progression since the previous imaging with one new lesion identified, but no active enhancing lesions demonstrated.
And the comments for my MRI of the spine, no definite new lesion or progressive disease is identified in the cord and no evidence of progressive cord atrophy.
Sounds like Mr C might just be doing his job in defending my myelin. Good on you Mr C. However it was a little disconcerting to read that my one, currently not active new lesion was 5mm LARGE. This is my biggest one to date. I don't know if it big compared to other people's lesions or if it's location (in the subcortical white matter at the superior aspect of the right parietal lobe) is significant or not. Some of my older lesions are showing evidence of cavitation, whatever the hell that means… While I don’t know what that means, I reckon I know what caused my new lesion and the cavitation... the 4th year statistics I was studying at uni this semester. I couldn't work out where all the stats knowledge was going and clearly it was escaping into my 5mm big black hole and cavities never to be found again!
What I really do know is that my neurologist has not schedule an appointment for me, so he must be happy with my results. So if he’s happy, so am I. What else could I ask for? Hmmm, how about no MS and 37 million dollars!
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Copaxone Vs Other Injection Types
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
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
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.
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