Thursday
Nothing much to report. A long day at work. I came home, rested and fell asleep on the couch.
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Ironed Shirt
Over a couple of drinks with a colleague from work tonight, we got talking about some of the more mundane aspects of our lives including washing and ironing.
She’s just about to move into a new apartment (out of the hell of share-house living), and she’s contemplating the purchases she will need to make over the next few weeks.
High on her list of priorities is a washing machine because she feels she doesn’t want to have to cope with the dramas of the communal laundry.
I don’t know where I’d be without my washing machine which has, so far, served me well for about 15 years.
I remember purchasing it one night, many years ago, from Hardly Normal at the Super Centre.
I’d had my previous washing machine for about 6 or 7 years. But it was, unfortunately, one of those machines which “walked” around a fair bit when it went into the spin cycle.
I knew it was time to replace it when, walking down the stairs of my previous apartment block scream in a completely passive aggressive manner…. “it’s that fucking washing machine again”.
So I headed off to Hardly and bought a new one and I’ve been living in laundromatic bliss ever since.
So yeah, washing and ironing, and conversations about such. That’s how I spent my Monday evening :)
They tried to make me go to rehab. I said yes, yes, yes.
It’s been three weeks since my below-the-knee right leg amputation, and for the first time, I’m starting to feel a “connection” with my slightly different than before right leg.
Initially, I was cautious and treated it delicately to avoid causing any harm. But yesterday, something changed—I began to feel like my leg was truly a part of me again, rather than something separate. I’m not doing anything crazy, just starting to feel like it’s still “me”.
Yesterday,I managed to take a shower and use the bathroom mostly on my own. I still needed some supervision to ensure safety, but it felt liberating to regain a bit of privacy in performing these daily functions.
Doing these regularly daily things has likely helped me adjust to my “new normal” of personal physicality, and it feels empowering.
Yesterday, Sue and I went for a walk/roll around the block and even made it up to Taylor Square, which is about 200-300 meters away. Despite the chill, being outside was wonderful and invigorating.
Another positive change is my transfer from the general hospital ward to the rehabilitation center across the road from St Vincent’s Hospital. Now, instead of a crowded four-bed dormitory-style room, I have a private room, offering more privacy and allowing for better sleep.
Throughout this process, I’ve been fortunate to have a steady stream of visitors, which has certainly helped with the psychological adjustment.
Many of my friends have noticed my amputation from social media posts but missed the part about diabetes, resulting in a generous supply of confectionery on my bedside table. While it’s not a major concern, I’ve been mindful of what I eat, following the dietary advice of enjoying a piece of chocolate but not consuming the entire block.
The road to recovery lies ahead, with an expected 6-8 weeks in rehab, focusing on readjusting to daily life. With the support of friends and medical professionals, I’m optimistic about making progress and adapting to this new chapter in my life.
Still Wearing Shorts
A few people have told me to hurry up and get out of the way. In particular, there was the woman with an SUV-sized pram, and there was the bus driver who was running behind schedule. There was also the bloke in the cafe who looked me firmly in the eye and said, sarcastically, “Don’t worry mate, I’ll just walk around you”.
In all three cases, I was hanging on to a wall or a railing, which I would have thought already indicated I had some mobility requirements. Within a couple of seconds, they all looked down, saw my prosthetic leg, and apologized. All except the bloke in the cafe. I got my revenge by standing directly next to the table he was seated at, the last remaining table in the cafe. He never blinked, not even when an elderly couple offered me a seat at their table. Arsehole.
I’m rapidly becoming “invisible” as “someone with a disability”. As I’m now mostly walking without crutches, people don’t notice me anymore. They need to look down to see that I have a prosthetic limb. For the most part, they don’t look down, as they’re often too involved in their mobile phone.
I had an older woman on a bus recently ask if I’d broken my leg in a skiing accident. She assumed the fiberglass leg was a “moon boot” (or something like that) until I told her the brief version of the full story. She was a little embarrassed, but I told her not to worry.
Because my leg sticks out a bit on buses, a few people have accidentally kicked it. For the most part, they don’t apologize, they don’t notice it, and get on with their business. But one recently apologized, and jokingly I said, “Don’t worry, I didn’t feel a thing”.
But even though I’m more mobile getting around, albeit slowly, I still need some assistance. Getting on and off a bus still requires my use of the handrail. It’s the same going up and downstairs. Though I could do both without using the handrail, I feel much safer if I do.
I have a couple of events on tomorrow where I’ll take my crutch with me. I probably don’t “need” it, but it will probably help at the events I’m attending. One is an art gallery talk where I think there will be limited seating, and it will signal to the organisers and fellow patrons, I would probably like a seat for the hour-long talk,
The other is a theatre play. I’ve managed to get the last remaining single ticket for the final season performance of “Holding The Man” at Belvoir Street Theatre. My ticket is in the middle of a row, reasonably close to the front. Theatre seating inevtiably involves stairs without railings, and so I think the crutch will come in handy.
I’m also still struggling with long pants. As the weather has started to change, shorts haven’t been enough to cope. I’m wearing the left leg to the shoe, but the right leg gets stuck at the point of the prosthetic. My current prosthetic leg is quite large, and so I need a much thinner one, one that pants can slide over when required.
The first prosthetic was paid for by the NSW Government, and I’m currently awaiting approval for a thinner, lighter prosthetic from the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS). The NDIS has recently undergone a review, and approvals seem to have slowed down a little. I’m not sure when the approval will come through, though I hope it’s before winter.
Bruny Island
It’s funny how the phrase “the mainland” can mean two quite different things in Tasmania. You would assume, on the surface, it’s a reference to the “rest of Australia”. But on ABC Radio’s “Country Hour” the other day, I heard someone from King Island refer to “the mainland” as the “rest of Tasmania”. And I heard it used similarly today on Bruny Island.
Before undertaking today’s “Bruny Island Traveller” tour, I hadn’t realised how big Bruny Island is. Though I thought it was some kind of tiny island off the coast of Hobart, it’s actually 362 square kilometres in size, and there’s a difference in the landscape between North Bruny and South Bruny. Some animals are found only one of the islands, for example.
As we caught the ferry from “the mainland”, I was blown away by the beauty of what was ahead of us. And then on the island, I was surprised by how “coastal” it was. With today’s warm temperatures, it was even a little “tropical”. Though of course, at other times of the year, I’d imagine it’s quite different.
Along the way, we tasted food from Bruny Island, in particular, and Tasmania, more generally, including cheese, oysters, fudge, wine, gin and whisky. We also enjoyed lunch at “the southern most winery in the world”, where I chose an excellent 2013 Pinot Noir to accompany the lamb (we could see the sheep in neighbouring paddocks, which was a little confronting for some on the tour).
Though I wasn’t the youngest by far, most of the group were in their 60s and 70s. Though one of the walks (to the top of a hill) proved a little challenging for one of the older women, it was a fairly sedentary tour.
For me, there were a couple of culinary discoveries, which included the locally grown honey and cheese, and the stout made with whey from the cheese-making process. I bought a small bottle of the stout, and I’ll do my best to find something to eat it with tomorrow night. (I don’t have room for dinner tonight. I’m “too full”).
On top of that, there was the discovery of how beautiful the island was.
Our tour guide Tim was excellent: knowledgeable and friendly.
We left at 7.45am, and I was back at my apartment at around 5.15pm. $155.
https://www.brunyislandtraveller.com.au/
Great Times
We had a really interesting moment earlier today as a group of us ate lunch at Ventuno, a funky little restaurant at Dawes Point, near the Sydney Theatre Company. Sitting outside enjoying the great outdoors, our waiter, a large Italian bloke became quite insistent that we moved inside IMMEDIATELY. At the time a few of us thought he was over-reacting a little to the grey clouds which had appeared in the sky. Within a couple of minutes he was shown to be correct, as a fairly heavy rain storm hit Sydney, turning the area into something resembling one of those great black and white photographs taken by David Moore. Later, relaxing outside on their extremely comfortable couches we barely blinked when the rain came down again, as we were protected by a fairly sturdy umbrella.
By this time we had been at the restaurant for two or three hours, had consumed a great antipasto plate, had eaten some delicious pizza and had enjoyed a few bottles of wine (though not too many, actually). It was then I was reminded and told everyone else the story of an occasion several years of another long lunch at a restaurant in Double Bay. Sitting at a nearby table was the wife of a former Australian Prime Minister (you can guess which one I’m sure), along with her entourage, a group of obviously wealthy women and men in their 60s, or thereabouts. After a few hours of watching them consume SEVERAL bottles of wine, a waiter walked over and said, smilingly, to one of them who had a couple of shopping bags with her, “Would you like me to put your milk in the fridge? It looks like you might be here for quite some time…”
It wasn’t quite like that with us this afternoon, but we were there for quite some time. Along with the food, the wine, and thegreat company, we were kept entertained with the large number of nearby wedding parties. We had discovered, we soon realised, the spot where many people go to have their wedding photographs taken in Sydney these days. I think we counted in all about half a dozen weddings. Some of the brides were dressed beautifully, others needed some work. We were impressed, in particular, with the bright yellow Flamenco-inspired bridesmaids dresses from one wedding, and the beautiful Middle-Eastern style outfits of another. At point point, however, we noticed one of the grooms uncomfortably playing with his wedding ring. A little too early in the marriage to be doing that we all agreed. “Come and bring us the bill, before we become too cynical”, said one of my friends to the waiter when it was clear we had spent too much time watching watching the activities.
Actually it’s been a pretty enjoyable, sociable 48-hours. There were Christmas drinks at a friend’s place on Thursday night, involving some lovely French champagne, some nice sandwiches, and a couple of hours of great conversation. And then there was a couple of beers after work on Friday at a groovy little cafe/bar in Darlinghurst called The Lounge. Although it’s been around for years, I was unaware of its existence, and even had trouble finding it. But yes, it was a great little space, attracting a very exotic crowd, indeed. It was “very Melbourne”, if you know what I mean.
Having now seen that bar, and having walked past Firefly Tapas & Wine Bar today I don’t know what Clover Moore is on about with this “small bar stuff”. Actually I do, I’m just being obtuse, but it just goes to show you can find some great small bars in Sydney, that’s it’s not just RSL-scale pubs and pokies, as has often been portrayed over the last few months.
Tomorrow also promises to be sociable, making a brief trip to the airport to see a friend who has a 2-hour stop-over between Melbourne and Ballina, and then catching up with another mate for Christmas. It’s a great time of the year, isn’t it, just to catch up with people? One of my friends today commented, “Isn’t this great on the weekend before Christmas just to sit around and relax. Buggar going to Westfield, we’ll do that tomorrow”. As I walked through the city today, observing the Christmas shopping, watching blokes carrying coffee machines, juice extractors, and assorted white goods, I wondered if they really needed all that stuff. Couldn’t they buy it at some other time of the year, using the money instead to spend time with friends and family? I think the best gift of all at this time of the year is the gift of time…
Avoiding The Shrine
When I heard the news about Osama Bin Laden there were a couple of things which came instantly into my mind: first, how odd it must have been for his neighbours and second, how way in which other terrible figures in history have been dealt with.
I thought almost instantly about Hitler, though of course, not wishing to make any comparison or judgement about the scale or severity of what they did. What I thought about was the bunker in Berlin where Hitler spent the last days of his life. I visited Berlin a couple of years ago and went on one of those city walking tours. One of the most fascinating things I found for the way in which modern Germany has “dealt with” the legacy of Hitler was the decision to place a car park on top of where Hitler’s bunker was to stop that place from becoming a shrine for modern neo-Nazis. I guess that was the thinking behind burying Obama at sea.
And then of course, I wondered about his neighbours in that town in Pakistan where he’s been living. Did they know? Didn’t they know?
It’s been an interesting and busy day, as you might imagine for someone, like myself, who works in the media. In the midst of the frenzy, these were the asides that crossed my mind today.