Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
This is Comet being NOICE... ha ha
This is COMET... he survived the dark alleys of Erskinville Sydney and only had head Staph a few times from spats with other alley cats...you still reckon he's a
cousin of your
Check out his eyes when he was slashing at melissa's face...and she still
From about 4am we have had a most gentle rain fall...all the trees and plants are hanging with large drops, and all I can hear is a soft shushing noise ...something to us rain starved Australians is a welcome novelty. Everything, all the plants and grasses and trees seems to be all sprucied up and standing tall under the misting rain.
The smells are incredible...as all the dust and grime is washed away...
autumn is here but we are getting summer rain that we didn't get... no golden leaves here in autumn...just green.
Friday, March 23, 2007
(This was written in 1991...but enjoyed reading it again this evening...they are a bit older now...32 and 29...but such good memories)
Two laughing girls live with us.
I see them walking towards my van;
heads bent in talking; flashing teeth.
Love sparkles zip around them.
No harm in them.
It is a golden time for us and I am aware of it.
I feel the blessings of all our fortune,
washing over me like the life in Earth’s oceans.
Shining in me like the fire of Earth’s furnaces.
Blowing through my soul like the sweetness of Earth’s air;
Sitting solid and substantial on my being
like the soil of Earth’s growing.
walking; exchanging secrets.
All the love of God is falling about their heads.
And I know the meaning of life is to love, love, love.
it breathes in Earth’s flowers
and sighs in Earth’s trees.
The meaning shines from Jupiter’s moons
and throbs from our Sun -
it calls across space that is swimming with life.
Without the spark - absolutely nothing.
(I can’t imagine nothing)
And that spark glows like a sun in my heart.
Sunstreaks in their hair and light in their eyes.
They live so much in the eternal now -
drawing with them eons past and pulling them to eons future.
Breast stroking across reality, light of the first creation.
Chuckling over simple things and bringing life with them.
is felt for every one of Earth’s children;
and the idea of responsibility for life is always with me. They are my lessons and I am theirs.
They make me feel humbled by the scope of life
and I marvel at its joys.
I don’t often see the moon,
Through the clouds at night.
I don’t often see the morning frost,
On the wild mountains.
I don’t often see the rainbow fade,
Behind a summer rain.
The Sea Eagle -
I don’t often see the Sea Eagle,
Bringing home her future.
But it doesn’t matter.
I know they are there for me.
When I am able to see them.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen ......... ..
(*After a pause.*) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak ! The messenger of the Most High waits!"
as if a just god would do that. God is not 'on our side'...God is on the side of truth and love and compassion ...but always leaves a back door open... God did not invent arms, troops, and filth of war....he does not condone a death penalty, torture... as far as I believe his/her whatever who cares face is alike the sun and the sun is light and life where nothing is dirty... hidden... creeping...vainglorious...egotistical...self absorbed
Mark twain wrote before Tv's and radios and hurry hurry living...befor psychobabble
Monday, March 19, 2007
(Now here is a thing. I wrote this about 10 years ago but had forgotton that I had remembered my father's whistling... memories are not always that reliable especially recent ones ooo ahhh!)
There are voices in the dark. Voices murmuring low in the privacy of the front seat. I am held in my childish rapture by the soothing, rocking sway of the old pale green Chevrolet truck. Sometimes in my memory I am riding inside the large cab, across the back behind my parents’ heads. In other memories, I am older and am sitting in the open back of the utility, with my two elder sisters.
My face is always facing the cold air; exhilarated by its sharpness and smells. Often I am drawn inside the stars, which are strewn across the black, velvet sky. My father whistles sweetly, Danny Boy and others and my ear still hears that harmony from so long ago. I believe I would recognise his whistle before the sound of his voice, which I seem to have forgotten, although I’m not sure. How could I know?
(These are my mother's maternal Aunt and Uncle - it was on drives back from their old farm that these times happened - this was taken a year after these wonderful people were forced to move into the edge of town after he had a stroke)
All feels so safe and known. So right. In the Chevrolet, I always drift into sleep with these gentle sounds, smells and sights lapping about me. I will be carried in to bed in ‘sibling-tandem’ by my father and I’ll wake in the bed I share with my sister who endures stoically being made sopping wet by me for quite some years. I will pad quickly over a bedroom floor covered in wriggling snakes to the safety of my mother up the hall.
I never even consider her tiredness and she is never angry with me, nor even impatient. She and dad can always be relied on for sympathy and I am never sent back to my bed once I am dry. I am pulled into the hollow places of her shoulder or elbow and arms are wrapped around me; probably a mixture of her love and so I don’t fall out.
This routine is only upset if some other sister, sleeping more lightly than me, beats me to this privileged position. Then, if I’m lucky I can snuggle into the massive muscled arms of my very tolerant father, and if I’m unlucky I may have to resign myself to the bottom of the family bed and curl my small self around the many feet I encounter there.
No one is ever ejected from mum and dad’s bed unless they fall out for lack of space. Mum and dad’s bed is such a lovely place. It’s the place I will go to when I am sick with Pneumonia and I will lay in its comfort for days and listen to my own breathing sounding as if it is coming from a high corner of the room.
My beloved cat Mandy will give birth to her four babies on the train of mum’s wedding dress, in the wardrobe, and I will let her because it seems such a right place for such an amazing event to take place. Mum does get a bit upset at this but as I am very sick and pretend to be even sicker when she comes in, not much happens at this but that she will move… very gently… mother and babies to another spot.
The birth stains never did wash out.
My cat was named after Mandy Rice Davis, who my barely teenage sister Veronica thinks is pretty avant-garde, due to her adventures with a certain British politician in the early 1960’s. One of those kittens is named after Christine Kelleher, Mandy’s accomplice in scandal, much to mum’s ‘semi-shock’ – a state she would go into if she thought other adults would expect it of her. She is less like them and more like we will become than anyone would ever have dreamt, in that long ago time.
What a barren landscape of narrowness it is that my parents must appear to conform to outside the old Chevrolet. No wonder they murmur like lovers as we children drift and doze. No doubt they have even sweeter memories of the slow drive home from the magic place we have just come from, outside of time.
Where are the mother and father now? Where are those solid arms that held and did and loved? Where are the voices in the dark, the soft laughter and pure, sweet whistled tunes, I still hear from time to time?
And me now, my hair is showing grey streaks; my daughters almost as old as my own mother I was in the earliest memories. I have been blessed to be married to a man who’s only complaint about kids in the bed has been that his arm was numb from bracing it against the wall so he didn’t fall out of bed for lack of space.
We who filled up the back and front of the old truck, have we let our own children into the hollows of our arms; held them in the night against their fears; let them nestle wherever they could find a warm and safe spot near us; protected against the snakes on the bedroom floor?
Oh! But I was lucky in the draw of life. To have had parents who were compassionate to a small child’s fears and failings. To choose a husband so like my father who did not really mind the small beings and damp nappies in the bed; who did not complain about the noises of the babies feeding in the darkness.
How many mothers have given way to ‘child-men’ who are jealous of children sleeping where they would sleep; who are offended by the babies sucking on nipples they consider theirs; who resent their own children and are territorial about the parental bed? How many bicker nastily in the darkness of the front seat of the car, making the children sit rigid with fear and glad when the trip is over? Children, who will never invade the feared territory of their parents’ bed, no matter the terrors of the night.
As for me, sometimes I wish the trips were still happening. I wish that I was still snuggled with my sisters in the back of the old truck looking out at the stars. There are times when I wish was able to pad up the hall into the family bed and be received as a loved child. And because I do wish and recall these times, I can write this for my own daughters who may one day be mothers themselves. I can pass the magic of my parents on to them to hold them; to protect them against the “fashions” to come; against the political correctness that is sure to interfere with the way they raise their children…and not for the better.
My mum and dad read no child raising books. They played it as it came and they got it right. They got it right because they were good people filled with wonder and love for each other. They loved us unconditionally and each goal that we achieved, small or large was remarked upon around the tea table.
But I feel that we were never discussed in the front seat of the old truck, in the dark. Their murmuring was too low; too frivolous; too full of sparkles and musical cadences.
Maybe they drove an extra mile or two to make sure we really were all asleep. Maybe that’s what all the murmuring and laughter and whistling was all about.
Somehow I like to think it was.
So long ago now, those voices in the dark.
I don't have many photos of my father really. There are no colour ones and only one closeup taken in 1949 on his honeymoon. I was reminded of him the other day, St. Patrick's Day actually... and for a few moments transported back to a sort of conglomerate memory of him.
Dad was killed by a drunk driver in 1969 when I was 15 - only a hundred yards from home. He was walking. I can still recall what he had on that evening. Grey trousers, a white shirt and a morone woolen cardigan.
but its not sad memories this time I want to write about...its good stuff.
My father had the sweetest whistling I have ever heard to this day, apart from an old man I followed around Coles who was whistling pur and sweet one of a Mozart Concerto...one I have always loved well...he didn't miss a note...
(Taken in 1957, my father, sister June 5 and myself 3, taken behind our old green Cheverolet ute.)
But Dad's wonderful whistling was accompanied by such beautiful memories that to recall the sound is to see and to feel again those times. One which happened weekly, was when we would visit mum's elderly Aunt and Uncle (brother and sister) way out in the bus at McCully's Gap west of Aberdeen NSW). We would go out and have lunch or Tea and stay till quiet late. The adults would often sit out on the verandah and talk (in summer) or by the big fore in winter.
I remember the smell of the cold air when we three eldest loaded into the back of the truck, covered in blankets (winter) or letting the mild night air blow around us in summer. The youngest at that time Joanie got to ride in the front with Mum and Dad.
After a few minutes I would doze while watching the amazing stars in a sky as black as you could want..not light at all and just the quiet crunch of the truck on the gravel road... no street lights, no guide posts, just us. No radio, only soft talking.
Then...he would begin to whistle. I still get goosebumps thinking about it. For some reason I connected that music with the stars and the stillness of the bush. It was a combination of majesty, magic, safety, oh just everything. Earlier I posted a small story about this time minus the whistling which amazingly I had posted to the back of my mind...till I heard...wait for it..."Danny Boy" played on St Pat's day...Dad whistled up the best Danny boy ever. I was too young and unsophisticated to be critical, a place I am trying my best to go back to.
A good place. I am going to re post this story next.
To outsiders my father's life may have appeared, short and hard (he began working at 12 in the local abbatoirs) but there was a romance and softness about him... and I am sooo lucky only one man has ever come anywhere near to unlocking this place in my heart...
And I married him in the 70's. I won't say that I haven't lived in "interesting" - oh dearie me!- times... but here now I feel more blessed cursed.
(My father and baby sister Jackie takn in about 1967 a couple of years before he died)
Isn't the clothes line a treat... ?
Actually apart from the trousers, this is what he wore when he was killed...I only just realised this...after all these years...sometimes we are so blind.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
So for Mirk and anyone else...here are some interesting links...
If you still speak to me in the morning well most will, can't help the others...
http://www.breggin.com/ Dr Peter Breggin (excellent)
http://www.ahummingbirdsguide.com/ 'Hummingbirds' guide to M.E. (also excellent)
http://www.h2o2-4u.com/ Hydrogen Peroxide (H2O2) (ditto)
http://www.carnicom.com/contrails.htm AEROSOL OPERATION CRIMES & COVER-UP
http://www.rense.com/politics6/chemdatapage.html Chemtrails data page
http://www.rense.com/ Jeff Rense (has its moments but lots of alternative stories here)
http://www.whale.to/vaccines.html Vaccine website (excellent)
http://www.freemarketnews.com/WorldNews.asp?nid=18689 Free market news
http://www.conspiracyplanet.com/review.cfm?rtype=2 Conspiracy planet
http://www.lewrockwell.com/miller/miller20.html Iodine for health
http://www.satori-5.co.uk/articles.html#me_articles articles on ME-CFS
http://www.thetruthseeker.co.uk/ truth seeker
http://www.evehillary.org/secret.antihealth.legislation.htm eve hillary
http://www4.dr-rath-foundation.org/ dr Rath
http://www.bcd.com.au/ dr Robert gammal
http://www.soundandfury.tv/pages/sweet%20misery3.html sweet misery
http://www.infowars.com/ Alex Jones
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Hi Steve... the three books arrived!!! Quick huh?
(this is Steve's blog with details of his books) http://stevenovak.blogspot.com/
I read through Snowman and you just about broke my stony old heart... Having been fortunate enough to have a mum and dad who were funny, poor, tolerant,more like us than their peers and just let us be who we were goning to be any way... I know along with all the shit that did happen, our ramshacklehome was a great place to come home to...the few smacks I did get had mum and dad blubbering more than me...
You bastard! U started reading "Goats eat cans" yesterday afternoon. I cooked tea while reading it...laughing my gizzards out... and for once I had a friend come in to look after Don who is not breathing well, so I could get a good night's sleep...and who was it with the light on at 2am still reading! Having to pretend that I was so rested this morning...I mean it costs us dough to have someone come in like this...
I know nothing much about boys... aving 4 sisters and 2 daughters... you lot are really different in the games you play - thanks for the education! I read some bits to Don yesterday afternoon and while he had different things happen, he okayed what you said that after being about 8 boys have some really scary thoughts about girls...and Steve most little girls haven't a clue. All we want at 12, 14 16 even is someone to let us know what knockouts we are and to love us like in Romeo and Juliet... and if it takes a bit of rumpy pumpy to get that most will...
but we think its ttruuuueee love...while you guys...hmmm! different huh!
I have done some outrageous things as a kid - different from yours, but you made me laugh and laugh even when it was sad... I hope you sell lots...
Is it okay to give your stuff a plug on my blog, with the link to yours..I only have about 10 regulars but...
Told my older sister about it this morning and she (has one 22 yr old son) agreed totally bt had no idea the mind stuff you have going on...
I wish someone could make a series out of this book (with you as director of course ; )
There is a big niche for offbeat stories and I loved yours even if it was about your life.
Have about a quarter of the Goats book to read...then after a day in between am looking forward to the other one.
Thanks Steve...even though my eyes feel all sandy..."
Vatican, CIA And North American Government Officials Complicit In The Torture And Murder of More Than 100,000 Children Known As Duplessis Orphans
Called the crime of the century and Canadian holocaust by Rod Vienneau, whose wife was a child victim who escaped, he added that Vatican and CIA are still covering up the mass murder of children.
By Greg Szymanski
15 Mar. 2007
Have a look at these…the last one ... well at least they didn’t put bamboo shoots under his fingernails…much more compassionate to just lop them off .
KSM "Confessed" To Targeting Bank Founded After His ArrestFallacy of testimony exposed as story blows up in Pentagon's face Paul Joseph Watson http://prisonplanet.com/print.php
Why KSM’s Confession rings false by Robert baer
Khalid Sheikh Mohammed confesses, and wants his fingers back
Friday, March 16, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
still does the wierd cow... ohhh so feminine
lookit my hair again...what were they thinking of.? My two elder sisters had lovely long brown hair and for the few years I actually was a blonde mine was hacked off almost at the roots...and even a white communion dress couldn't make me look better than a dog's breakfast...
maybe it was to stop me getting "ideas" but with my mug as a child, and my temper there was no chance of that.
My mum loved me I know that, we were great mates... can't figure it...
but am happy enough how I turned out.
NO choice at all.
S'okay...am happy how things turned out.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
My Mother's first cousin Alf McGoldrick (3rd from the right - he's the fair one) endured the horror of this place with his mates, most of whom did not come home. These were all country boys.
Please click on this photo as the detail is amazing when it is blown up - the faces stay with me.
They were a burial detail and bried bot Australian and Japanese soldiers.
Uncle Alf came home, also his cousin Vince McGoldrick...only to die a year later when they rolled a jeep whilst working on a dam construction site..which oddly enough was being built over the farm my mother's mother grew up on and which had belonged to her family till the Government bought it out. They had been drinking as most ex soldiers do...that is a legacy of war.
Uncle Alf was an only son with four sisters. his father was a dairy farmer..wonder what Alf would have become? What children he would have had etc etc
I know what these men experienced and they were just kids relatively as are soldiers in Iraq, Afghanistan wherever... but the war they fought had clear paremeters... Invasion/ defence.
When these guys returned home, the few who did they were heroes...
How sad for those who returned from Vietnam, iraq, Afghanistan etc etc.... its murky these days...
If you can get the DVD "Kokoda" do so. I have it on reliable information it was close to truth as you can get.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Saturday, March 10, 2007
The whole da there was a shock reaction, not more so than when they discharged him at 5.30 in the evening into driving rain...lucky we had a friend who met us at our house with a huge umbrella which she held over Don as I unloaded him from the van...
I was soaked to the skin and even though it is still warm here took me ages to feel warm again.
A lovely old man called George a few rooms up died while Don was in there because after he had all his teeth removed they would not stop bleeding. A wad of gauze was put in his mouth which he subsequently chocked on because no one came to check on him.
This was the case with my husband...no one ever stuck their heads in to see if you were alive or dead...and no obs were taken at all after Don had his lung tapped and a wardsman bought him back to the room... he saw no nurses until they came to get him out of bed and almost dropped him on the floor.
Its not a whinge but am horrified to see how much what was a good system, one of the best in the world, has deteriorated... its got to do with cost cutting...
Just don't get sick folks, especially if you have no private health insurance.
I will post something cheerful soon...just about had enough of this
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Its about midnight and I can't sleep... I am too wired and angry. I know tomorrow is likely to be a horrific day, and my eyes are hanging out of my head but I just have to vent... so I can sleep...better than drugs...although the glass of wine I just poured out when I got home is a bit bigger than usual and qualifies as a drug... its cheap!
I just left Don at the Base hospital, something I don't ever like doing because as a Quad "things" happen when he is in any hospital life - threatening things, and they can't hear him at the best of times because as soon as he gets his mouth open they are gone ...but these days no one can really hear him because of his breathing problems which his bastard I'd like to throttle doctor could not see...
Turns out his right lung is collapsed in the bottom half, terrific...bad for any of us but for a Quad with limited breathing its a disaster...but not only that they "discovered" that both lungs are riddled with "extensive emphysematous" changes (emphysema to you and me) over 50% of both lungs... (he hasn't smoked since 1987 and his lungs were totally clear at that time in his case it is related to Quadriplegia...see link) and they have also found a suspicious "nodule" they need to look at...
numbers 8 to about 17...
and his GP didn't even notice his laboured breathing.
I have been in a red haze rage once in my life and I began to throw a cup of tea at Don (who deserved it at that time) but redirected it at the last moment and I copped the whole cup plus the roof got a drenching...(tee hee)...
But right now I feel cold and sick with anger at the neglect. Like a cold white rage. He has gasped for air for so long, not being heard because most are too impatient to let this very witty man of mine finish the words... he has lost so much quality of life..the intense tiredness has been frightening. Sometimes I would watch him when he "crashed" asleep for the 10th time in his wheelchair and check was his chest rising and falling...
Our world is so buggered up in its values. We all like to see and read stories about these things, and triumph over tragedy stuff etc etc...but ah! in real life, for too many its an inconvenience and they might want something from you so they "blank" you out. We get blanked a lot and laugh our guts out about it...because it is so obvious it really is funny. we may be wierd. Who knows or cares?
He hesitated today for a moment before the ambo's came for him - not wanting to experience the helpless and lack of autonomy hospitals mean for him... till I rather brutally said,
"Melissa (daughter) is getting married in May. Do you want to think of her walking down the aisle bawling her eyes out because you are not beside her...move okay."
(here he is in 1974 with Melissa)
I have just got to hope he survives them draining his right lung tomorrow morning (actually today) . because of the other lung damage they are cautious about doing it...but has to be done. I have got to hope he feels such a benefit from his improved breathing that life becomes good for him.
I have been holding myself inside myself for so long so as not to cry in front of him...if I cry he will know how hopeless I feel.
I know our time together is running out and I hope ...not now...not this time. We have been together for so long now...since he picked me up in a bar in newcastle (Australia)...the old Star hotel - there was a riot when they closed that one down...it meant a lot to lots of people who didn't like ordinary pubs...
I looked accross the bar and thought "HMMM!" and he did the same. He asked me what did I like to drink...and me having only $2 in my pocket (it was 1972) enough for 4 Ciders, said "Scotch and dry please" see how well brought up I was.
(us about that time - have posted before but we only had about 3 photos of us back then)
We had a lovely weekend at his place.. I wrote a poem about it of sorts... Its corny I guess these days but...its mine.
Might post it one day... but after that weekend we moved in together and have been together ever since apart from a 6 month period of the dreadfuls when we were sorting out issues...we sorted them out...and flew.
It has been hard. No shame in truth. It has been very hard. It has also been the most beautiful thing I could have ever had and I know this... I have always known this.
if there are "soul mates" we are...but oh the fights we had...two strong personalities... you all know the rest kiddies. I have run down the driveway in an old flanelette nightie barefoot when I heard one daughter sneaking out with a girlfriend one evening with Don calling encouragement from the bed...I stopped them...they were going to hitchike into town in eyelashes which would sweep up a butchers's shop and clothes which left nothing at all to the imagination...but we got em!!!
we have sampled gold tops in outside of Cairns ... let out kids nestle amongst us so they felt safe asleep, and been often wet into the bargain : )
We have made home movies with Don as the star always... he has been amazing... put a wig on him he is little fat Eddie from Hanging Rock... put an old man's blankie on him he is..er ..well himself...but if I ever learn to up load onto U Tube... (might have to leave town)
Right now I feel boroken hearted... but being an Aquarian, I will bind together my heart before morning, will smile and appear okay and greet a no doubt beautiful day...
Sometimes I wish and wish and wish he had never gone to work the day he was injured so badly... and I know there are worse things...much worse. People always tell you that...but this is pretty bad.
At last I can cry. I can never cry in the house when Don is home, but now I can...and no doubt it is overdue and the best thing.
We both know its only a matter if time, months hopefully a year or two till in this life we will be seperated...and I am pleased that I feel such a sorrow...at least it is real.
People die...I know that... but we are lucky because we have experienced real love without conditions but it took some getting to..wern't easy peasy.
Wrote this a couple of years back when he was once again ill... its corny stuff but from my heart.
The Man and Me.
Sleeping at night my palm opened flat on his chest,
Warmth feeding warmth, I know we are blessed.
No matter the day’s misunderstandings and blues;
No matter points made and lost;
No matter who thinks who’s the boss;
Sleeping always next to him is the life I would choose.
Re arranging pillows, blankets and such;
Both easy to fire off, yet both easy to touch.
Each unwilling to give way, equal to the end.
The Celt in us both, a marvellous brew,
Stirred and stirring, a wondrous stew.
Sleeping hand to chest our rousing battles mend.
Ah! And give me that fire, pure and unpolished,
And give me the spirit, no argument undemolished,
And give me the wickedness and its play,
Give me the empathy and knowing
Give me the common sense for our growing.
And let us wake hand to chest at the start of the day.
How dear to me is the man who breathes beside me at night?
How dear is the spirit, which gives his eyes their light?
How dear to me is the world we share?
There is no measure I can explain
But that his pain gives me also pain
And that our love is sometimes more than we can bear.
For me he stands, young, fair and clear-eyed as in youth.
For me, the things he feels I know, they are truth.
And I will hold these truths like rare and precious treasure,
For in a shifting sea of easy useless lies
The values of such truths are cherished ties
To the love which lives within the heart which is without measure.
So let me lie for hours, my hand upon his chest,
Thinking on the treasures with which we are blessed.
Such as our children treading out into the world to be,
Carrying the dreams of all our life;
Treasures as sacred as the man and wife
And as sacred as the love which binds the man to me.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Doctors are not my favourite people in general...having said that one very good friend of ours is a Doctor, but a doctor who doesn't follow blindly what the AMA push...what they seem to push with thehelp of the Pharmaceutical companies is not health but a state of fear and dependence that is anything but healthy. There is no money in healthy people and no money in dead ones...I am allowing that those doctors who are exceptions to this rule are some of the world's best people.
We've had some dreadful innings with the medical establishment, in the past ...too long and sdisturbing to go into and too boring also...
Last week I wrote to my husband's GP (with Don's okay)
Attn, Dr. S... (son of a bitch perhaps???)
Since late last year I have noticed Don's increasing tiredness and shortness of breath. Other people have commented on this as it is a visible thing. Considering Don's heart condition and his restricted breathing due to Quadaplegia this has been a real concern.
Don complained about this at his last visit with you (mid Jan.) and you told Don you didn't think it could be connected with his heart condition.
A friend of ours is a physiotherapist and she said that his breathing should have rung alarm bells with his doctor.
After that visit with you Don faxed in all the material you asked him to send to Dr GW (he is a sleep apnoea person), soon after his visit with you. When he rang last week to find out why Dr GW had not contacted him he was told by the receptionist that the doctor had not looked at the faxed material yet.
Don then saw Dr R (Urologist) and was booked in to have a Cystosophy on 28 Feb.
Today while having a pre op ultrasound the Radiographer saw a fair amount of fluid in the right lung.
Since Christmas Don has been unable to breathe properly and unable to see the Heart Specialist till May 5th.
His lungs filling up with fluid would possibly suggest a problem with the heart as there is no chest infection.
We are disappointed he has been left like this for so long.
Fluid has to be drained from Don's lung to enable him to breathe properly.
Not on May 5th please...
I woke up Wednesday 28th morning at 4am unable to sleep wondering how to get to someone who would start Don's treatment and so faxed this letter to the heart specialist Dr K
"Dear Dr. K,
My husband Don is a patient of yours and saw you for the first time mid 2006. You wanted to see him again in January 2007, but unable to get an appointment till May 2007.
He is a Quadriplegic and has been since 1982. You would have his records but this might save time. He has limited breathing and an inability to cough effectively or to vomit due to Quadriplegia. We have managed to avoid any lung congestion in this whole time and Don has only once had flu, which didn’t settle, and it cleared up.
Since about September last year it has become noticeable that Don was having trouble getting his words finished because of constant shortness of breath and was growing increasingly tired. People commented on this because you could see his shoulders having to go up and down…you would know what I mean.
About a month back Don went to his GP but was told it wasn’t to do with the heart (?)
Some days are better, but most days Don has trouble finishing breakfast, and is sleeping longer and longer.
When Don had an Ultra sound (Monday) on his kidneys pre a day surgery to look at the bladder, the radiographer saw the bottom of Don's right hand side lung and said, "there's a lot of fluid there"
I suspected this because Don sounded like my mother when her lungs also had fluid build up from heart disease.
So the day surgery is off thank God. For him to have had any surgery with fluid on his already compromised lungs would have been a dreadful risk.
A chest X Ray which I can drop in to you if you request showed up the fluid on the right lung (Don sleeps on his right side…so he can sleep; he can’t sleep on his back and too painful for too long on his left).
What is worrying us both is that yet another weekend is coming along and the fluid will continue to build up. Last weekend Don felt too tired and weak to do more than wake up and eat between sleeps but got a little better in the evenings. That was the worst… Monday and Tuesday were a little better.
Irealise I am stepping outside the protocol and hope you will understand this.
If I stand back and do nothing, and my husband dies …I can’t contemplate this.
Don would most likely not survive any complications of fluid on the lungs such as Pneumonia – he can’t cough.
Please when you have time get back to us on this and I ask you respect confidentiality of this fax as Don has a good relationship with his GP. but nothing seems to be moving along."
he did at least look at the X Rays...and suggest a CT scan...which no one has bothered to look at...
in between this Don's GP had replied promptly to defend his Honour...but did not address the fluid which can cause major problems... honour is important to defend I suppose.
Dear Don and Therese,
"I am sorry you do not feel Don has been treated appropriately. Certainly shortness of breath is a concern and requires investigation. On reveiwing the notes from our last consultation I not that most of the discussion centered around fatigue and sleepiness for which I gave him a referral to Dr GW.... (not true...shortness of breath was mentioned ..but once the good Doc centered on Sleep apnoea he wouldn't be stopped) We also discussed the bleeding from his bladder and had a long discussion about his dry mouth (duh!!) and medications. Don has complex medical issues (hm we know this!) and our consultations alwayd cover a multitude of issues. I had certainly not realised that difficulties breathing were a concern of this magnitude based on our recent meetings . (It was visible and a quick listen with a stethescope would have found it).
I have looked back through Don's file and Dr K (heart specialist)'s letter from last July suggesting he see Don again in 6 months, about now. I provided Don with a referral regarding this in August last year, plenty of time to make an appropriate appointment. I will fax Dr K's rooms asking if a more urgent one is available but have no final control over their bookings. This is the same with Dr GW.
(get this next bit)
...unfortunately I will be away for approximately 4 weeks at some stage in the near future.... (the very next day as it turned out...)"
Isn't that just wonderful?
As Don is not well a fair amount of time is spent at home so I replied asap so the good Doc S.O.B. would get the letter before his holiday...
28th Feb 2007
"Dear Dr SOB,
We have learned by years of experience that one has to be proactive when it comes to dealing with health problems. We are very sorry if you felt your professionalism as to Don’s treatment was being questioned. This was not the case. It was just the telling of an experience by way of providing information which is a good thing.
Don was less than a day from Theatre and apart from the Radiologist spotting the fluid on his lung he would be in there today which could have had a drastic outcome.
A Chest X Ray was done yesterday on Dr R’s referral. He would have those results.
Don had seen three Doctors, yourself and the two specialists and all had to observe the manner of his breathing but until Don himself asked the anaesthesiatist Dr Mc ( after being alerted to the fluid by the radiologist) no one listened to his chest. The fluid would have been heard by listening or by percussion. Don’s limited breathing at the best of times and his obvious shortness of breath would mean that this is always going to be a problem, without anything else.
Re Don’s appointment with Dr. Kark –
Don was asked by Dr Kark to make an appointment with him for late Jan. 2007 but he was specifically asked not to ring to make it till December… then he was given an appointment of May 5th. This was not Don’s fault, as he did as he was asked.
Don is just trying to get treated and in his case, he cannot afford to have fluid like this on his lungs and that is the most important thing.
Re DR Williams, we understand we have to wait to get in but he would not have known how urgent it was because he had not looked at the referral and medication list etc we had faxed some time back.
Please don’t take offence at this letter, as none is intended. We would like to continue the good relationship we have with you as you have an understanding of what Don needs and this takes time on both sides to build up. As stated this is intended as only to inform you.
P.S The referral for the CT Scan came through as a blank page last night."
I would have liked to gotten really nasty as I just bloody hate these unctuous bastards...they kill people and stay smiling and cool! I don't think most of you would have any idea how much I so totally hate them and the sick system they serve. They generally do not serve us at all and have so much arrogance it is sickening.
We are no closer to getting the fluid drained as its now the weekend we just have to hope we can get things going on Monday...
People say to me sometimes "who is your doctor? " I tell them why do I need a doctor for, I am as healthy as a horse and plan to stay that way if I can. If I need something I pick a name out and go for it. I don't have to like them, too many of us likt to imagine the kindly doc smiling down on our poor suffering heads... crap. Its when they smile at you and get that high priesty look on their faces that you need to be scared.
So thats last week. My poor bloody cat Archimedes is dying in front of me...she is very old and I hope the poor thing goes when I am with her...she's not suffering too much and knows me...she looks comfortable having her long sleeps. Shit.
And yet I am not sad about all of this... there will be time for that. LIfe is good while you have got it, and a lot of funny things happen, like last week when Don said to me,
"Do you want to know what my GP said to me at the last visit?" I said yes of course.
"It might upset you." I said theres not much anyone can do or say that will upset me these days...
He said" Dr S... said 'And Don just how long do you think (emphasis) you're going to live?' "
Bloody little pukey little prick! I roared with laughter and next thing we both were laughing our gizzrds out... Don with not as much blow as me...
I said or maybe he'll get hit by a Mack truck.
Happy holiday Dr Son of a bitch.