Goodbye Madiba, thank you.

It is with great sadness that I have watched the slow demise of Nelson Mandela, the Gandhi of my generation.  A man who is so very clearly loved and admired by the world at large.  This is evident in the incredible list of people who attended his memorial in South Africa last night.  I am proud to have lived in his time, for being a part of his history when at age 18, the very first vote I was able to cast was for his freedom.  I have shared his love of Africa and her people.

It was a very sad day when he stepped down as President and slowly crime stepped up to the point that I felt I had to leave my motherland to protect my children and give them a brighter future.  I feared that South Africa would end up like Zimbabwe and I think I lost all hope in her people.

My heart became very heavy when his death was announced a few days ago.  First I was afraid, thinking that this would be the end of peace and forgiveness in South Africa.  Then I was relieved, instead of making things worse it appears to have made things better again for our rainbow nation.

His legacy will endure in history for all time.  Madiba will walk the halls of immortality with the likes of Martin Luther King, Abraham Lincoln, Mother Theresa and Mahatma Gandhi.  Nelson Mandela is the quintessential example of everything Africa's people should be.  There is no way to escape the past but Madiba did not dwell on this, he forgave and moved forward.  There is no way to undo the past, but we have learned an invaluable lesson.  He is our greatest teacher. His humility and grace inspired me.  What a man, what a light to the world.

It is both heart-warming and wonderful for me to see my beloved homeland stand together and unite in a celebration of the life of our "father" of the new South Africa.  The loss of this legend feels personal to me and I am ripped and torn with desire to return to my home and grieve/celebrate with my nation.

My only prayer for South Africa now is that his example can brighten the future and that Africa's people will remember his example and emulate his wisdom and honour.  I pray that all South Africans will show the world that all is not lost.  Stop the crime, poverty and corruption, unite and stand proud, together as he would have hoped.  Give Madiba a legacy that shows the cynics (like me) that Africa can still be a success story.

Goodbye grandfather, your have earned your rest God Bless Africa, ngiyabonga inkosi kakhulu.

The winds of change...

Please click here call it: setting the mood :-)

Well, we it is a month since we moved and we are comfortably settled into our new little house and I love it!  We are back down to just the four of us after 4 years of sharing and we are settling into a new rhythm.

As a woman, wife, mother and daughter who is just about "middle-aged" (yes, dammit I said it) it has been a stressful time all round.  

I have teenagers who can flit from horrid potty-mouthed monsters; to loopy - totally nuts and bolts; to sweet angels; all in a matter of seconds.  Combine ageing parents who are slowly becoming less able.  Then top that off with a husband who, like myself, is coming to terms with being the Sandwich Generation and a wife that has her first career job (since giving birth 13years ago) and you have the hot, hot mess that is my everyday life.  

The "sandwich generation" is a wonderful term for the time in your life where you are responsible for both the generation that you have spawned (in my case, teenage girls) and the older generation - that spawned you (self-explanatory).  If you are nodding your head then this means you are banging around on the same boat.  I know and I understand where you are.

I find that I am more able to switch off to my girls because I know that their raging hormones have eradicated rational thought and action processes and I know that things will get better.  Eventually... All the books say so! Really!  And... in all honesty they are no that bad - if only they would keep their rooms tidy and help a bit more in the house (where have I heard that before?).

Not so easy with our older folk.  It is really difficult coming to terms with parents - who have always seemed so immortal and mighty - becoming anything less.  Until recently ageing was a romantic notion that was only reflected in the eyes of our great-grandparents and then our grandparents, who were always "so old", it seemed normal.  It does not feel the same when your own parents - who you always used to go to for help - are now coming to you.

Having said that, I love and appreciate both sides of my sandwich, they are both wonderful in their own ways - but sometimes it is hard being the meat!  

Moving on to my next issue:
Why is it that I, as a wife and mother, cannot shake the guilt or feel attacked every time my work etches into my family time.  Men don't seem to share this affliction, its work and its gotta be done.  So why do I feel guilty?  I have taken a back seat for most of my life, I worked within school hours for 11 years, doing a job that would not really challenge me or advance my career, never once regretting my choice.  So why is it that now I feel guilty for every work function? Yes, granted, at this time of year there have been a lot!

But I still don't really get it...  
I have accepted my husband's work and even sport commitments that have taken him away from "Family Time".  I don't really recall ever being sulky about it, so why am I faced with sulking about my work commitments?  

I have been working at and planning for this conference since May and finally, by Wednesday next week it will all be over!  My reward is being at all the dinners and attending the trip to Waiheke Island - which is nice, but I still feel guilty about the personal time that it eats into.

Ho hum... First World problems!

Next:
So Christmas is swiftly approaching and I am proud to say that I have managed to keep my blog up for almost 2 years, with a post every month - not too bad.  I have also written a short story which I have self-published as an Ebook and have started on a novel (although I have had writers block for about 4 months).  Still I am quite pleased with what I have managed, my next blog will most likly be about new goals.  Have a great Christmas Everyone!

Busy, busy!

I have not written for some time now and thought I had better make my apologies.

The great news is that we finally sold our house in Palmy - 6 years after we left for Auckland, sure we lost $25k but at least now we can buy where we live!  As a celebration for our patience we finally went on our first holiday in over 5 years to the Gold Coast, Australia.  All four of us were very excited - like kids at Christmas!  It was wonderful to get away from reality and just laze around a pool and be real tourists.  We went to 3 of the theme parks and the Currumbin Animal Sanctuary - which was a stand out favorite for all of us.

As it turns out I am allergic to the place and it made both Haydn and Jenna sick!  Yes, this is a bit of hyperbole, but I did break out in hives from about day 3 and they only subsided after we were back home.

Jenna was pulled out of the customs queue as we arrived in Australia because she was battling nausea and looked a bit green.  The next day she started with a bit of a cold but was a real soldier and missed nothing! Haydn went done with the cold 4 days later and this turned into a violent bout of man flu and he is still coughing.  Meg's greatest complaint was sunburn, but that is what happens when you only tan with baby oil so the lesson was learned.

Since returning to the real world things have become a bit more stressful...  We were told we had to be out of our rental by the end of the month (this gave us just over 2 weeks to find a new home). We approached the bank that had given us pre-approval to purchase and discovered that since the new reserve bank rule has been enforced they have withdrawn all pre-appovals.  This is just fan-freaking-tasic because now instead of finally being able to buy, we have to rent again!

Sadly this has all sorts of hassles as we have a toy poodle cross shih tsu dog and landlords here appear to think dogs are as bad as smokers.  In fact, this is 1 category in rental ads, "no dogs or smokers", what is next, "no children"?  Anyway, after 3 weeks of searching as looking at homes that I wouldn't even let my dog live in, we have finally found a place.  This is a credit to my perseverance and tenacity as this property was advertised in the "no dogs or smokers" category and I emailed them each week to kindly ask if they would change their minds.  Each week I received a "sorry the owner will not accept a dog" reply and each week I thanked them and said, as the house is empty and costing them money, perhaps they would reconsider?  Finally I have worked them over and we signed our tenancy agreement yesterday.  Now the packing starts and the big move is next Friday.

Since you asked...

I have entered the New Zealand Pain Service, where an interdisciplinary team is working with me to find some new ways to manage my pain and hopefully improve my quality of life.  I am writing this reluctantly as I have been asked to explain my pain and describe what "normal" feels like for me.  This is a part of the process and so I figured I could share it on my blog, so that if there are others out there, like me, you will know that you are not alone.

I have lived with pain most of my life.  For years I have had differing medical opinions, hypochondria, fibromyalgia, nerve pain, chronic pain, etc.  The latest suggestion is that I have CPS.


Central Pain Syndrome

CPS is a neurological condition caused by damage or malfunction in the Central Nervous System (CNS) which causes a sensitization of the pain system. The extent of pain and the areas affected are related to the cause of the injury, which can include mild car accidents, trauma, spinal cord injury, tumors, stroke, Multiple Sclerosis, etc. Pain can either be relegated to a specific part of the body or spread to the entire body.


Central pain syndrome is characterized by a mixture of pain sensations, the most prominent being a constant burning. The steady burning sensation is sometimes increased by light touch. Some people prefer body length heating pads which sometimes help a little. Pain is typically constant, may be moderate to severe in intensity, and is often made worse by touch, movement, emotions, and temperature changes, usually cold temperatures.


Burning pain is the most common sensation, but patients also report pins and needles, pressing, lacerating, aching, and extreme bursts or constant sharp or unremitting excruciating pain. Individuals may have reduced sensitivity to touch in the areas affected by the pain.

I know this all sounds awful but to me this is just a normal day.  I don’t like it, I don’t want it but I accept it and get on with it.  I shall now take a moment to pontificate, please imagine the violins playing…

Yes, I have pain all the time, it is only the depth that varies… but everyone has a cross to bear and my burden is still lighter than others.  I hate to prattle about pain. I prefer not to adumbrate on how it feels or indeed how I feel.  There is no point.  It is difficult and frustrating to hear someone you love constantly complain about something that you are helpless against.

If you want to show you care, distract me, talk about something else, or simply say, “Hey, can I get you something?”  That will suffice.  I’ll let you know if I am really having a bad day and if I do, then take me seriously and give me some time and space.  I hate to validate my pain, I feel like it gains power if I do.

How it all began…

I have been in the medical system for spine/nerve pain in different forms since I was about 15.  I was in a MVA that resulted in severe whiplash; I had torn muscles and damaged tendons.  My neck bothered me right through high school and I was often in a hard neck brace.

In my early 20's I fell in a shopping mall; herniated a disc at L3, L4 and ruptured the one below at L4, L5. This was treated conservatively until we decided to start a family.  I had spine surgery in 1996, laminectomy and discectomy and managed to have my 2 beautiful girls with acceptable pain, via C-section.

In 2002 I was rear-ended in another MVA and that is when the real trouble began. Pain became my constant companion. I knew it was time to seek help when I looked at my pain killers and wondered how many would stop the pain forever.  I have since had a fusion and an additional “maintenance surgery” to replace moving screws.

I was okay from 2005 to 2008 when I fell on the rocks while walking my dog on the beach. Since then structurally there is nothing to be seen, but pain has just been ramping up and medication does not seem to help much, or for long. 

Most of the time I feel as though my bones are made of ice. My muscles and tendons are wound too tight and nothing loosens them up.  I can’t stand bright light and loud noises.  Lately I have pins and needles and a constant burning between by shoulder blades; this is coupled with a horrible sensation that is best described as a mouse running under my skin. 

I have debilitating headaches aggravated by bright light.  I get irritable and grumpy and need a quiet place to retreat to, heat helps a bit.  I ignore my pain until I can't and then I surrender to my bed for a re-charge. Sleep is elusive and when I turnover in bed, my sternum feels like is tearing and splitting apart (can’t hold my ribs together anymore).

I have scalp itch and so seem to scratch my head like a kid with lice.  I am aware of it and so try and make it look like a casual gesture... don't think it works.  I also have stupid hot flushes (face, neck and chest area) that I cannot control, it really does not mean I am shy or embarrassed. My skin becomes hot to the touch, red and inflamed, this comes and goes without me doing anything and is really frustrating.

I manage to work full time and am determined to stay as healthy and independent for as long as I can.  I live for the good days and the things that give me true joy and or purpose.  I believe it is easier to smile and wave than lie down and accept defeat!

Transition to being a writer... I feel it now!

I have been chipping away on my book like a sculptor at a chunk of marble. To say that I am enjoying it immensely, would be an understatement!  

I am carving out my characters and molding my themes.  Using my artistic license, imagination and creativity but blending it with research and factual information.  

It feels surreal to finally be in "the groove" of the storyteller.  

Consequently, I have discovered that already one story is not enough!  I was struck by another inspiration for a narrative chronicle as I wrote this one. 

Unable to stop the words flowing from my fingers like quicksilver and I had to complete this short story.  It has taken me ages to get it presentable and I would like to invite you to have a little read...

I will caution you though, this is not a "nice" story, it is a "necessary" story.

It is Sharon's story. A teenage girl who found herself drowning in a situation that she did not expect and could not control.  There are adult themes and uncomfortable references that were essential to the telling of this tale.  

I am proud to put my name to it and look forward to hearing your feedback.

Click here for a direct link to my first short story "Never Forget!"

Storylines... would you read my book?

I am cold, the bone-chilling, ache all over kind of cold, that feels like ice in your veins, the chill burning right through to your marrow.  I try to move but my frozen body is unresponsive.  My eyelids, stiff and scratchy, opened slowly burning against the sharp iridescent light.  Why am I here?  What the heck is going on?  My head pounds as I try to force my brain to work, what is the last thing I remember?  I blink as a warm tear slowly slides from my eye, down my cheek and plops onto the cold concrete floor.

*

It was a crisp winter evening and I had decided to play hooky, skipping drama class, I went straight to the mall.  I felt like shopping.  The money gran had given me for my birthday was burning a hole in my pocket.  I couldn't decide what I wanted but, today I would spend some cash!  Maybe new shoes, or a cute skirt, maybe that bright red hair dye that mum had never let me use.  Who cares, I have time, I am an independent young woman and for a change, I have money to burn!

Moments later, I bounced along with three shopping bags, my hand chilled from a frozen coke my belly warmed by unhealthy chicken nuggets - yum!  I felt like a kid again.  It had been so long since I could splurge like this - I might have gone too far.  Oh well, toast is a sufficient meal when the coffers are empty, so long as the rent is paid, it'll be sweet, I thought casually.

As I walked out of the mall I was stunned to see that night had fallen and the car park was near vacant.  There was a chill in the air and rain had settled in, light as mist.  My cute, little, yellow mini cooper waited for me, alone in the hazy dimness.  Beyond, the tree line was black as pitch and there were fuzzy pools of light circling the street lamps.

As I walked towards my car I began to get that tingly feeling, like I was being watched.  My eyes jumped nervously from one shadow to the next.  I readjusted my bags and quickened my step. "Crap, where is everyone!" I muttered to myself.  I stopped and looked behind me, nothing. I straightened my shoulders and exhaled a slow deep breath, hoping to slow down my rabbit quick heartbeats.  By the time I reached my car, I was in full flight mode.  Terror, I am your bitch.

"Stupid, stupid!"  I admonished myself as I dropped my shopping into a puddle while I rummaged through my bag looking for my keys.  Images of horror movies flashed through my head, "a weapon, I need a weapon, how stupid am I?"  

"Ah-ha!" I exclaimed as I found my keys and pressed the unlock button with relief.  Grabbing up my wet shopping bags I tossed them into the car, jumped in and locked the doors.  "Safe", I told myself, taking a deeper breath to settle my nerves, I started the car and reversed out of my spot.

Cold, I cranked up the heater and pumped up my music.  Soon I was back in the zone and feeling stupid for overreacting like such a tart.  Safely on my way home, I chuckled to myself, thinking that I was such a chicken, "ha, well I suppose I am a drama queen!"  KT was singing about a big black horse and a cherry tree and I playfully tapped the gas to the beat along the unusually quiet road.

*

My hands were tingling as I slowly wiggled my fingers, I managed to curl myself up a bit but my traitorous body was still very sluggish.  I still couldn't remember what was going on but now wide awake, I was aware of all sorts of aches and pains and...  cable ties, much too tight around my wrists! "Shit!  Focus, what the hell is going on?" 

*

Home was a little cottage in Coatesville, I always wanted to live on a farm but my folks were suburbians, in more ways than one.  They were perfectly middle-ish.  Mum and Dad had been high school sweethearts, they had married in their twenties, had kids and worked all their lives. Now that we were all grown up; my sister and I that is; the folks had finally taken some time for them and gone on their very first OE. 

The wet curvy road glistened in my headlights like a snake, I hated driving this road in the dark, especially when it was wet.  Once again I told myself off for choosing to live in the country but my stubborn streak had won out.  Me and my dorky ideas!  I am not a reckless driver, in fact, the opposite is probably true.  If you are familiar with Wright Road you will understand my caution, it is absolutely the wrong road to race on.  The twists and turns are edged with bush and gullies that would swallow any car that dared to miss the narrow track.  So, it was a shock that, as I turned into the next curve I saw tail lights in the bush.  Instinct kicked in and with a screech of brakes I pulled as close to the side of the road as I could and put on my hazard lights. I pulled out my mobile phone and dialed 111, someone has come off the road!

As the number rang I climbed out of the car to see if I could help anyone.

*

That was all I remembered.  As these memories flooded back I felt even more confused and afraid.  How did I go from saving the day to helpless victim?  Why was my head so sore and above all, what will happen next?

Avoidance

Avoidance: Web definitions: deliberately avoiding; keeping away from or preventing from happening. 

 

I suppose that at one time or another, we all wish we could stick our head in the sand.  Well, I'm past that.  I prefer to face things head-on and deal with reality.  Sure, sometimes it's rough, emotionally draining and even soul destroying but at least I am dealing with what is real.

I would like to issue you with a challenge.  Face up to your life!  Face up to what is really going on and deal with it!  I am so tired of the "great pretenders" who think that hiding from reality is okay.  You know what I think?  I think you're chicken, I think that you need to eat a bowl of self-respect, throw in a tablespoon of courage, then, swallow it all down with a glass of maturity. 

I am sorry if this sounds harsh, (I guess my own frustration is evident).   Something has happened, a life altering event, maybe some bad investment, or an argument that seems to have caused irreparable damage.  What rubbish, you can always fix it, just say sorry and make a plan to make things right.  

The truth is that the people who matter in your life will always love you - no matter what.  Even if you are not on speaking terms, your family will always love you - even when they don't like you.  So just be honest and stop hiding from what is.  So you've stuffed up?  Shocker!  We all have at some point. It does not matter.  What does matter is what you do about it.

Remember, we lead by example and our children are always watching and learning from us.  Do you want to raise a child that takes no ownership or responsibility?  I aspire to be as good as I can be and hopefully my children are proud to have me as a parent. 

The measure of a person is not taken from his/her mistakes but rather from their actions and sincerity to remedy any transgressions.  If you avoid someone for long enough they may not be around when you are ready to make amends.  Don't wait, don't hide or avoid.  Stand up, front up and make things right while it still matters.  You hold the power, do what needs doing (in the living years) or live with the regret.

Are you an ostrich or are you a lion?

I say… “Be the lion!”

The Suburban Mouse and The City Mouse...

A story of a suburban mouse. 

I have worked in the Midwifery Dept. of this University for 5 years and the time has come for me to move on.  This was not a planned move, in the sense that I was looking for another job, but rather a bit of a surprise!  My very dear friend and colleague saw the job advertised (on the city campus) and encouraged me to apply.  So I did, with all the enthusiasm that the job instilled but with the certainty (in my own mind) that this was not really going to happen. The applications closed on the 18th of Feb and I heard nothing.  I was a bit relieved and just told myself that I didn't really expect a response anyway. 

Then a week later, I was astounded when I received a phone call inviting me to interview.  The next Tuesday, I had the interview and the day after that, I had the job.  It was all so fast and so unexpected that I was reduced to a blithering blob of tears of pride, excitement, regret and shame, rolled up in a ball of uncertainty.  The job offers more scope and a higher salary, but it means that I must leave my comfort zone, friends and travel into the big city!   

The poor little suburban mouse is intimidated by the idea of working in the big city!  She likes her old running wheel - it is familiar and safe.

My colleague, of course, was the first to know - this was after all her fault!  Then I told my boss and the next day my line manager.  With each explanation I was overwhelmed with the kindness and support and encouragement that I received.  It felt like I was immigrating all over again - an experience that left me wrecked for a few months, back in 2006.  I am a Capricorn - I hate change! 

I love my team, our students and to be honest, I love being a "know it all" and "go to" person.  Giving all of this up for something new felt like the toughest decision in the world.  With each "the last" milestone, I have shed a few more tears, feeling all the sillier with each emotional step.  If I am so upset, maybe this is the wrong move? 

Suburban mouse has forgotten the career goals that she set aside to raise her young.  There are no regrets but perhaps she needs to spread her wings -they have been clipped for so long?  

I remembered a technique I learned in a workshop.  I closed my eyes and imagined my 18 year old self meeting me and talking about my life and choices (she was a tough idealistic cookie who knew nothing of parenting, but had dreams and desires, goals and ambition).  After some soul searching the way forward seemed crystal clear. 

The the suburban mouse put on her big girl panties and took the first step towards the city.

I have accepted the fact that half my pay rise will go to travel and I have just added an hour to each day for travel time.  This is not so bitter a pill to swallow as I have now also reconciled that I have 6 years of career (and financial) growth in this position too.  

There is a part of me that feels a bit guilty, that this job means less time with my kids.  Maybe I am being a bit selfish, yet I feel proud and a little stubborn that it is "my turn" I have waited 14 years to further my career.  Overall, I have stunning daughters, a supportive husband and a fantastic home support structure.  My girls are fabulous young ladies who are quite capable of looking after themselves and doing the right thing.  

Sure, I will have new challenges and a very steep learning curve but I am not afraid.  

No... I am excited!

Brace yourself.

Speaking of my parents' transition into the Golden Years has led to some reflection on days gone by.  I have many stories to tell: some really funny, others not so much.

In 1996, I was told that I needed spine surgery.  After the initial shock and dismay, I accepted this as the only way forward.  Little did I know that this would result in one of the most embarrassing moments in my life.

Picture a reasonably well-turned out, newly wed young woman, facing spine surgery at 22.  I am told, by my surgeon, to go to an Orthotist in Rosebank  where they will "custom make" an orthopedic brace that I will need to wear after the surgery.  "Sure, fine, no problem" I say - thinking that obviously, they will take some measurements and that will be it.  Of course, things are never just that simple, well not in my life anyway.

Brace yourself.

As I glance around the waiting room, it's clear to see that the average age of patients is somewhere between 70 and 80 years of age.  By this standard, I stick out like a screaming babe in a church service. 

The room resonates with a hum of conversation and machines. There are so many elderly people with casts, walkers or walking sticks.  I hope that I am never that frail, but if I'm having spine surgeries already... maybe I'll need a wheelchair!  As my thoughts drift down this dismal path, my name is called.  I see an older man of about thirty-five, I wonder why his smile is so wide?  I don't remember his name and so for the purpose of this story I shall call him Tom.

I am guided into a little room to the right of the door is an ugly hospital green medical screen, behind the screen is a black plastic chair.  To the left there is a black rubber mat, a bucket, a box of cheesecloth, a tub of white powder and two hair dryers.  What the heck is all this for?  Oh... they must do plaster casts and stuff in here, I mused.

Tom's voice interrupts my thoughts.  "Okay... so, what you need to do is get undressed and slip this on, like a dress...these holes here are for your arms" Tom explains, holding out a tiny bit of mutilated cheesecloth that will barely cover my torso from boobs to butt.  "Please don't leave your underwear on because we are going to make a plaster cast of your torso, for the brace.  Once we are done, we will have to cut it off you, so anything under the cast will be cut off also."

As the light of horrible understanding dawns, I appreciate why it is that Tom is chewing on the inside of his cheek as he explains my fate, he is trying not to look happy!  At least he has the decency to blush! I think as I feel my face redden too.  He leaves the room muttering, "I'll be back in a few minutes".

With a deep sigh I resolve to behave like a grown up.  To my horror this stupid handkerchief is completely transparent.  Oh boy!  I might as well stand here starkers!  "How's it going?" Tom says, making me jump, I didn't even hear him come back in.

"Umm, not great actually, could I possibly have another one of these, this one is just a bit... short?" I ask, peeking my red-faced head around the screen.  Great, he's brought his friends, what the hell?  "Sure, I'll just cut you one" he turns his back and grabs another bit of cheesecloth.  "Oh... and, uhum, this is Mutt and Jeff (can't remember names again - but these will suffice), they are student technicians who will be assisting me.  We have to work really fast because the plaster dries quite quickly."  Mutt and Jeff stand just behind Tom, but I can tell they are equally amused with their assignment.

Fan-freeking-tastic!  I know I am gaping, but seriously? "Great!" I say as I snatch the next bit of fluff and pull it over my head.  Hah ha - now I have a double layer - not that transparent now, yay me!  I step out from behind the screen in my little cream "cookie pelmet", feeling like a stripper at a nun convention.  Subconsciously folding and unfolding my arms wishing I could find a little hole in the wall to crawl into.

I wait for them to show me the next step on the humiliation train to custom-made back braces. With ill concealed glee the three men step aside and show me to the black rubber mat.  "If you could just stand here, we can get started," Tom begins.  Mutt and Jeff wait for me to take my place and then kneel before me. Oh, this just gets better and better, I am sure from that angle they can see right up my little mini, wonderful!  I think I am cringing and try to force myself to roll my shoulders back and hold my head high.  I am sure if they killed the lights the room would glow from the blush that I cannot control.

They begin to mix the plaster and then, (I kid you not) they start rubbing the wet plaster mixture into the cheesecloth and what lies beneath.  The lukewarm sludge turns ice-cold within seconds and I begin to shiver (bear in mind I am cold, wet and in white - super combination really).  Finally, Tom takes pity on me and switches on a little fan heater that I had not noticed behind the bucket of plaster.  The warmth seeps into my cold feet and slowly rises warming my legs and easing some of my physical discomfort.

They continue their fastidious abrasions: my hips, lower back and stomach are now encased in old wet plaster.  There is no eye contact until I am asked to raise my arms (come now - you know what happens to a "dress" when you raise your arms - picture the scene).  Just when I thought I could not be redder my face flushes with a deeper heat of shame.  I raise my arms just slightly, like chicken wings away from my body and say, "Sorry, that will have to do."  They make no further comment but again I note the strain that not grinning salaciously is taking on their poor little faces.

Jeff has obviously won some sort of contest as he now stands before me.  He has a diplomatically sympathetic smile as he explains that he will need to rub the plaster under and between my breasts - so that they can "get the angle" of the front brace right.  I can no longer stand the strain I release what cannot be considered a girly giggle but rather a hacking hysterical snorting laugh.  

I can no longer stop myself, "Wow," I say, "and we haven't even had a date yet!"   This breaks the ice and now we are all laughing, except Tom who is still trying to be professional.  "I guess I will finally have an outfit that even Madonna will be jealous of..." I continue, really getting into the idea that laughter is the best medicine.

Mutt and Jeff are snickering while Tom seriously tries to explain how the brace will look when this is all over.  I don't really care how it's gonna look Tom, I just want to get outta here and never see any of you again... ha ha haaa!  "It's okay," I tell him, "I guess I might as well get used to perfect strangers looking and touching.  During and after the surgery, it'll be a free for all." What the hell did I say that for!  Dammit why don't I just shut up!  I clench my jaw but my treacherous body is still shaking with laughter.

"You have a really nice smile" Mutt says, trying to make me feel better.  Tom snorts and Jeff chuckles openly, "She's married dude!" he chastises playfully. Oh no! Raucous laughter erupts again and tears stream down my face, "Thanks, next thing you'll be telling me that red is a good colour on me!"  I mutter, referring to the deep red blush that still will not fade.  Tom is no longer pretending that this isn't funny but, ever the moral superior, he passes me a wad of tissues to wipe my tear-streaked face.

I thank him again and dab at my face, taking a few deep breaths to compose myself.  The rubbing continues in silence for a while and then Mutt and Jeff pick up the hairdryers and begin my body-blow-wave.  Tom is explaining that they have to make sure this layer is dry before they begin the next.  He shows me a flat metal stick that looks like a long thin tongue depressor.  "Once this layer is dry, I will glue this along the sternum, this will be built into the brace so that you can't bend forward."

"Okay" I reply.

Layer number two goes a bit quicker and by layer number three I am no longer a glowing red beacon visible from space.  I can only imagine how I look now, in my plaster cast mini-dress that goes between but not over my boobs.  I must be a vision of loveliness.

We have progressed to arbitrary conversations about study and this unusual career path.  Mutt and Jeff confirm that I am one of the youngest people they have ever worked on and that usually they are handling geriatric patients, which is more difficult.

Mutt even goes as far as to say, "I was so glad to see you arrive - because every job should have some perks."  Holy hell!  That is a bit inappropriate, but the room erupts with laughter again.  Mutt tries to do some damage control by explaining that their patients are usually not as friendly, he stammers along until Jeff says, "Dude, stop talking you're gonna hurt yourself".  Mutt blushes and I realise that this is probably embarrassing for them too.  "Well," I say " I guess we all have a story for Friday night drinks huh?"

Conversation is  drowned out by the hairdryers and I am relieved to hear that we are almost done.  As visions of the final chapter to this story turn in my head, I picture the horror of this final scene.  The hairdryers are turned off and Tom smiles as he explains, "Next we need to remove the plaster, don't worry you will just feel a little tickle."

Noticing my discomfort he suggests that after they have cut it down the sides, I can remove it behind the screen, if I prefer.  If I prefer?  Are you serious Tom?

"Yes, I prefer, thanks!" I say, perhaps with too much enthusiasm and we all laugh again.

The little circular saw did tickle but it was most likely the easiest part of the day.  Then I went behind the screen to remove it I grabbed a thin cotton gown and covered myself and then passed it over to Tom.  As they walked out the room I felt a sense of relief wash over me, thank goodness that's over!

All the world's a stage and we are merely players.

Christmas, holidays, my birthday and Haydn's and Nana Lady's visit have all passed like a high speed chase down the motorway.  An adrenaline rush with a knot of anxiety and a dash of financial relief.  It is a cruel budget that we created... having Christmas and both our birthdays all within 30 days and 1 pay check! With maxed out credit cards and a suntan, I have returned to work for another year at the salt mines.  Lucky for me, I like salt.

I long for my carefree childhood where my biggest concern was how long I could swim before I did my homework. I miss being a kid with no real responsibilities, simply taking direction and focusing on fun and playtime.  "Aah yes Grandma, that was a simpler time". 

My teens were a blast - memories of which make me chuckle with fondness and sometimes, cringe with regret.  The roaring twenties were fantastic, I grew up, married and had children.  Motherhood is challenging but thankfully has a high entertainment value. :-)

Now I am 39 and just one step away from the tip-top of that hill (the one that our parents are already over).  I have reached middle age (I think I am comfortable with being in this classification, the middle is not a bad place to be.  Is it?) and after some serious mentation, have realised that I am the age I always expected my parents to be.

That's right... all you 70's children out there, "We ARE the appropriate ADULTS!".  Not only responsible for our children, who we must ensure are growing into decent and law abiding citizens, but also the folk who need to assess, maintain and sometimes manage our parents well-being.  "How did this happen?  Yesterday I was sneaking a cigarette behind the shed and today I am a "clean living" mother of teenagers, a wife and a daughter of parents who are in their golden years!"

Yes, there is satisfaction in watching my beautiful girls growing into young women but this is mixed with the bitter cup of knowing that our older loved ones are slowly fading away. 

I am reminded of Shakespeare's monologue "all the world's a stage" and the stages of life.   Every act can be as good or as bad as we want it to be, even a time of great hardship can make a fantastic story.  I believe that every stage requires elements of action, excitement, joy and grief, it should stir the blood, anoint the soul and stimulate the mind.

I must admit though, this second childhood that "Olde Shakes" refers to is rather a scary concept.  We have worked so hard to progress, who the heck thought it was a good idea for us to go backwards!  What crap is that?  I can handle this 6th stage, with spectacles on nose but who would willingly sign up for the last? Nobody wants to lose sight, hearing and "everything"!


I am quite happy to grow old enough to see my grandchildren and wear inappropriate swimwear.  Yes, that will be liberating and fun.  I will happily drive around on my mobility scooter and run the insolent youths off the walkway, but not if I must wear a diaper.  Nah!  When I can't move around on my own anymore it is time to shut this bodysuit down!

I'll skip that final bit, I prefer not to act that out on my world stage.  Ummm no thanks, I'll pass, let me fast forward to the death scene with all my faculties intact thank you very much.  I am less afraid of death than dignity.


I salute these golden girls and boys and admit that senescence is not for wusses! Thank you for carrying the torch, not sure if I am glad that you have passed it.  I am not sure I will ever be ready to be this grownup.

2013 and back to reality...

That night she closed the door on 2012, she was happy to see the back of it and hoped that the new year would bring new and better things.

Today I read my friend's blog  (http://planetlederer.com/cuddlebunny) and felt the sting of tears burn my eyes and my throat tighten with sadness.  Lynn an Norwin, your strength and courage are inspiring, Jarrod is a very lucky little boy to have you both.

Yes, we do all come with a story.  My story includes the love of my life and my children; it includes my friends and family and it has seasons of warmth and joy but also some of sadness and loss.  My story is personal and very precious to me and mine.  My story might help others or it might only help me, either way it is my story.


Towards the end of last year Jenna needed an x-ray because we thought she had cracked a rib, in that x-ray I saw a curve.  This curve is small and not too scary to look at but, being a mother who has just seen one child through surgery to correct severe scoliosis, it was another deathly blow to my sanity.  The specialist had a look at it when we took Meg for her check up 6 weeks post op.  He said that it did not look like something to worry about but that when Meg came again, next year, we could bring Jen for another assessment.

Since then I have watched her carefully, questioning, always worrying, is it getting worse?  I have tried to take that worry and put it to the back of my mind but I am a mother and worrying is what we do.  It is not something that I can switch off or put in a drawer, it is as much a part of me as breathing.  It does not mean that I cannot have happiness and it does not consume me - because I have faith, but it is there and there it shall remain.

Worries aside though I am pleased to reflect on the year that has past.  2012 was a tough year, we have lost some friends and relatives and welcomed some new little blessings, we have seen our oldest though one of her greatest challenges and our youngest though her proudest moments.

There have been feuds and fights, frustrations and celebrations, moments of utter relief, of sadness and of joy, achievement and success.  I have learned that life isn't fair but it is mine to live and I don't want to regret a moment.  I have discovered that I really should not sweat the small stuff, there are enough big things to worry about.  I have learned that it is better to share my energy where it generates love and joy rather than wasting it on things that darken my days or bring me down.  I am grateful for every blessing and thankful for every kindness and I am stronger and better than I was before.


I have lofty dreams for 2013, I hope that this will be a year of action and direction.

She walked up to gate, opened it and said hello to 2013, lucky for some... I sure hope so!