I took a rebel stand on my outfit for this year’s “Andrew Olle Media Lecture”. Though I’ve been attending the lecture for over twenty years (only missing one, the year I lived in Western Australia) dressing for it is pretty simple.
As a man, all you need to worry about is a tuxedo and a bow-tie. In contrast, a friend/colleague mentioned on Facebook earlier in the week, she was struggling with her outfit, while trying to maintain her carbon footprint. “Do I what I’ve done”, I told her, adding “only two outfits in twenty years, and the only change has been a few different bow-ties”.
For this year’s lecture, I splurged on some new socks and jocks, but when it came to the bow-tie, I ummed and ahhed. I looked through my collection of bow-ties, which ranged from the traditional black, to blue, green, red and rainbow (worn in the run up to the Same Sex Marriage Survey) and I wasn’t impressed. “They’re all so boring”, I thought to myself.
In the end, I decided to go sans bow-tie, and what an awesome decision that was! You should never have to wear a tie in Sydney during November!!Peter Fitzsimons delivered a terrific lecture focusing on the many changes he hadsseen in journalism over the last thirty years, in which he name-checked some AWESOME journalists. Andrew Olle Scholar, Danny Tran delivered an awesome speech about press freedom.I had a lovely chat with two of Andrew Olle’s children, Nina and Sam. I’ve known Nina very well over many years, and actually gave her one of her first jobs. I didn’t know Sam as well, though he’d worked previously with one of my friends many years ago, who he remembered as “The ABBA Guy”. When this all started, the kids, Nina, Sam and Nick were young adults.
Some of my awesome colleagues.
Not wearing a tie was a really wonderful thing. I felt much more relaxed than in previous years. A couple of friends agreed it was terrific not to have to spend the night relaxing and not having to worry about “networking”. Oh yeah, and this year I was seated outside of the “main camera view”, so I didn’t have to worry about looking too much like a “lush” by drinking during the televised part of the speech!!
By the time I arrived in Adelaide later this afternoon I was already feeling a little tired.
I had a brief nap on the plane.
And then when I checked into my hotel tonight I yawned at reception, prompting a sympathetic smile from the woman behind the desk.
After last night’s “work dinner” I had an early start to the day, coming in at 6am to catch up with some team members.
Back in my hotel room I had a little lie down and a brief nap. I also watched some breakfast television which is something I never normally do. I’ve concluded that both Sunrise and Today have the potential to rot your brain, and that ABC News Breakfast and Sky TV would be my preferred entertainment if I watched breakfast TV.
Work-wise this has been a really productive, enjoyable and therefore satisfying trip so far.
But I’m starting to get a little weary.
Although work trips sound glamorous, you end up working long days without the creature comforts of home, and thus start to get a little tired.
When I went out for a bite to eat tonight I never wandered very far. Though I could have sat in a restaurant somewhere, I ended up getting noddles in a box, a bottle of wine, and coming back to my room.
I COULD have ventured out tonight to check out some Adelaide nightlife. But frankly, the fresh sheets and clean bathrobe have been too much of a temptation.
There comes a time in your life when the allure of a night on the town in Adelaide is tempered by the allure of a quiet night by yourself in a hotel room.
The place I am staying is nice, though a little dated. The room is clean, tidy etc. But both the colour scheme and the technology are a bit 90s. They have movies on demand, and a “fax machine”, but the “service information book” fails to even acknowledge internet access.
“We’ll miss you when you go back”, Pat said to me last night. I’ve been home in Lismore for the last couple of weeks, and have really enjoyed being here. I’ll be back for Christmas, and maybe another trip before then. I see the Lismore Show is on at the end of October, so I might return home for that.
This is a photograph of Michelle and me, taken at the Lismore Show in about 1975.
Though we lost a lot of photographs in this year’s floods, some of the past weeks has involved going to Officeworks, printing off the very best that have been digitised, framing them, and putting them back on the walls.
For several years now, it’s been a family routine to go through old photo albums, and either scan or photograph the collection and back them up. We’ve done hundreds (maybe thousands) that way. As it’s been a group effort to select the photographs for digitising, it’s also been good fun, as we’ve remembered (or sometimes not) the circumstances/situations.
So my advice? If you have some old photographs, digitise them and back them up. You don’t necessarily need a scanner. You can just use a mobile phone or camera.
“I’ve backed everything up to Google Photos”, I told a relative last night. He asked if that was going to be enough, wondering if I should also back them up to a hard drive. I told him I didn’t think Google was going to go broke anytime soon, and also mentioned hard drives are more likely to go under a flood than Google is. Of course, there are lots of other backup options, too.
Though Lismore still has a long long long way to go, this trip has been characterised by a greater sense of optimism. There is still a lot of trauma in the community, including amongst family and friends. As someone from “away”, I find people still talk about what happened during the floods earlier this year. They want you to know.
I was in Spink’s Park the other day, taking a photograph of the Queen Victoria Fountain, and a man stopped to talk. I think he assumed I was not from Lismore, a visitor, and he wanted me to understand what had happened here. We chatted for quite a while, and I explained my connection.
Queen Victoria Fountain in LismoreQueen Victoria Fountain in Lismore
I went into a local shop the other day and saw a photograph I took (and put on Twitter) on the counter in front of the register. I chatted with the couple who owned the store about their experiences, both with their business and home which had been impacted by the floods.
“That’s my photograph”, I said with surprise and delight at Lismore Embroidery the other day. They’re selling discount clothes right now. “They’ve been through the floods”, they warned. “So long as it has been through a washing machine since, I’m happy”, I replied.
This has happened a lot.
There’s a short-hand conversation you can have with people in Lismore about this. You just need to ask where they live, and you know instantly what they’ve been through.
It’s different in Sydney (and elsewhere).
“(In Sydney) people’s eyes just glaze over when you talk about the floods. When they ask about the flood and want to know how it’s going, they expect you to say it’s okay. We’ve mopped up, and we’re getting back to life as normal. But when I tell them it’s pretty fucked, they lose interest. Let’s keep the conversation alive, as there’s so much ahead of us,”, I’ve told a number of people.
As we chatted over a family dinner the other night, I was amazed to hear about the number of extended family and friends who are living in “pods”. Pods are caravan-like accommodation that has been provided by the state government. Others are “couch-surfing”, going from house to house, and staying with family and friends.
Looking a little more peaceful than during floods, the Wilson’s River at Lismore. Looking a little more peaceful than during floods, the Wilson’s River at Lismore.
“A lot of people in the homes we’ve visited just stand and stare into space”, one of the volunteers working on the flood recovery in Lismore told me today.
I had just apologised to her for finding it difficult to respond to a very simple request. I can’t remember exactly what it was, but to illustrate, I found it difficult yesterday to put on rubber gloves. I struggled for a couple of minutes to find the thumb hole.
Today, I’ve seen two other family members go through this also. My job today quickly became one of assigning them simple tasks which didn’t require much thought. “I need you to wash these plates”, I said to one family member. “I need you to sweep this floor”, I said to another.
It’s the one part of cleaning up that I didn’t consider. I was expecting tears, as we moved into cleaning our family home, not an inability to think clearly. But that’s what has been happening today.
Today was the first day that Jack, who has lived in the house since 1969 came down to assess the damage. “It’s as bad as I expected, and then 100% worse”, he told me today.
Jack is my brother-in-law, “But really you and Pat (my sister) are like mum dad”, I told them today with a tear. Later this afternoon, we sat around and shared many moments of laughter, as we reminisced about family stories. It was a welcome end to the day.
Today I also visited some near-neighbours, checking in on their welfare. I also visited the former home of Nancy who died last year. “My sister lived here until last June”, I told Cathy who lives there now. She told me she had bought the house after that, and after significant renovation, had only recently moved into the house., “That’s my home on the lawn”, she told me, adding, “I can never go through this again”.
The flood waters reached the gutters of a number of houses on Union Street, South Lismore. All of their household items now sit outside on the street, awaiting assessment about what can be saved, and what will go to the garbage dump.
She welcomed me into her home to see the renovations and introduced me to the builder.
Only minutes after arriving in our house today, there was a group of six volunteer workers from the Gold Coast knocking on the door. There were four women who did an awesome job of cleaning mud-covered household goods and photographs, and there were two huge blokes (a carpenter and a plumber). They achieved all of what we wanted to achieve in the day in just an hour or two.
Later we were joined by a group of Michelle’s colleagues, a bunch of nurses from Lismore Base Hospital. They have been awesome in their hard work and care. One, in particular, has been wonderful recognising the emotional stress we’ve all been under. Another of her colleagues will be delivering dinner. We are so incredibly lucky, and fortunate to have been helped through this. And when Jack scratched himself, there was no shortage of nurses on hand who could treat the wound. But Jack, being Jack, he treated himself!
Colleagues who help
Michelle and I were interviewed for ABC Radio.
Dom: We continue to focus on Lismore here with our colleague James O’Brien, who is Lismore born and raised and coming to terms with what’s happened to his hometown over the past week or two where he still has a whole lot of family. James. Good morning.
James: Hey there, Dom Yeah, I’m at my sister’s house at the moment in Elliott Road, South Lismore. And there is a pile of rubbish. We’ve just thrown out the window onto the street. And I can see what’s happening on the rest of the street. The people next door would have similar size actually, these might be bigger, down another house. They’ve got rubbish out the front. And I can’t the reason I can see up the street is that our front windows were broken. So we’ve got lots of air conditioning we’re joking about here this morning.
Dom: Yes, I’m sure I’ve got a photo of where you are now. And really, it’s almost indistinguishable, the scene outside the front of your family home there. From when you gut to the house. It’s basically you haven’t got the house, aren’t you? That’s what’s going on?
James: Yeah, absolutely. So we’re in the front bedroom now. And I spent last year I have the last year living with my sister and brother in law in this house. And so this is my bedroom from last year. My great-nephew, Sam is living has been living in his bedroom over the last few months. And he was amazing in helping his nan and pop, my sister and brother in law survive. We’re in the bed in the front bedroom now of a two-story house. And the water as you can imagine got up to the top of the windows. So that’s about three feet taller than I am. And about four feet taller than my niece is standing here next to me. She grew up in his house. So to mom and dad’s house, and her son was amazing. Can I kind of hand it over to Michelle, we want to Yes. Here you go. Here’s Michelle.
Dom: Michelle, thanks for joining us. Great to have you with us. Talk us through the past couple of days. How on earth have you gotten through this?
Michelle: Oh, I’ve got no idea. I think you just switched into autopilot and you just do what has to be done. I think want to go over the shock of that. You know, like if I didn’t, except if my son wasn’t here with my parents, they would have drowned in their home.
Dom: And sadly, that’s been the case for some in your community. There have been deaths. But it just seems as though no one really anticipated something on this scale. This is an area that knows flood the Northern Rivers, you know that the rivers rise, everyone knows that but not like this not before and your community just got swamped, didn’t it?.
Michelle: That’s right. I mean, I remember the 1974 flood it’s there were a few steps from coming in. And that was a massive one. And then, you know, there’s been ones over the years when I’ve been in high school and then 1988 And you know, you know, it just went underneath the house and we were you know, just trapped in the house. You know, you can still live you still drive. We still got our electricity. But this was just and then 2017 Just just about wiped out loose more. And this mall was barely had barely recovered since 2017, and then this one come along to just about pretty much wiped us out completely. But everyone just thought, Oh, well, you know, we survived 2017. So it’s not going to be as bad as that. So you know, we rebuilt once we’ll rebuild again. But then it was just terrible. When my son rang me early in the morning he said Mum was coming in to nan and pops house. And I was just in shock. I was like, Okay, well, I need I said I need you to be strong. And I needed to look at the look afternoon and I just had the ad caught stay awake and worry. Yeah. And then just kept in constant, you know, half alley phone calls. And as I’m sure that the story for everybody else. And you know, that was quite affected.
Dom: I was talking to my colleague Chris Bath earlier in the show has just come back from spending the weekend in the northern rivers, she said that there were two hardshell flood boats in Lismore at the start of this and it just goes to show that even with the experience that has been had in the planning of this thing, this just went far beyond what anyone expected. How are you feeling about the future and about rebuilding? We’ve I’ve got a photo in front of me of just your house with everything ripped out of it. What are you planning to do from here? Or is it just too early to make plans?
Michelle: It’s far too early to make plans. I’m not even sure if the house is gonna be safe to move back into like the floorboards are bowing and you can see in part so you can see through to underneath the house and you think it moves, you know, you walk through it and it moves and it’s like, Well, shit, I’m not even sure if you know it’s safe for us to be in here ripping up carpet throwing things out, but
Dom: and this is a town of 20,000 people, many of whom would be in the same boat. It’s just the devastation is unimaginable. Our hearts are with you, Michelle.. I really hope you can find a way through this and work out what to do next. Because, yeah, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t know.
Michelle: Yeah, can I thank the volunteers. There are so many people that have just come in, even friends of my teenage son have just turned up and just came in and got their hands dirty. But work colleagues that are dropping in for a couple of hours at a time help out. There are random strangers pulling up across the road with washing machines to the service station, there are people pulling up in their cars out the front singing out food and water, food and water and we just run out and get some food, you know, and, and then they drive to the next house and hand out food and water. It’s like, the generosity has been overwhelming. We’re very, very grateful.
Dom: Well, I’ll tell you what, but for the tinnies Michelle, what we’ve seen the tinny army going around and helping people and as we heard from some experts before, it’s quite hard to do. Flood rescue is there special training for that, that people do in the evacuation centre that was used for, you know, Olympic kayaking and so on, but people have had to do it for themselves. And that’s what happened in your family. People have had to rescue other family members and the community has pulled together but it’s a pity you had to
Michelle: Yeah, my poor mum, I mean, you know, she’s got a bit of a back end on her and I pushed it through an 18-inch window in the kitchen, you know, into a boat and the dock in under the power lines and you have a look outside how high the power lines are, you know, they were 20 foot off the ground.
Dom: Yeah, I mean, we’ve all seen the phone with the fast-food joint where the waters were as high as that as the sign. You know. I’ve been to Lismore a few times over the years and the notion of the amount of water that was there. The mind absolutely boggles Michelle. Look, really appreciate your time, all the best to your community. And thank you for sharing your story with us. Thank you. Yeah, that’s Michelle there, the nice of our colleague, James O’Brien, who’s on the ground and Lismore trying to make sense of what happens next.
I begun my task, today, to see as much of the Biennale of Sydney as possible, by heading of to the Art Gallery Of NSW. Actually, task is probably the wrong word, because it’s going to be an absolute pleasure, but with the works on display at twenty or thirty venues, I’ll need to have a methodology about this. Anyway, there were three works on display at the AGNSW that I really liked and a lot of works I felt fairly indifferent about.
Unfortunately, I don’t recall the name of the creator of my favourite work, as I can’t actually cross-reference it to either the Biennale Guide nor the website. Imagine if you would something about 30 feet wide by six feet deep and four feet high, a three dimensional map of the world created out of many layers of canvas. I liked the creative concept, the enactment, and the craft that went into this work. Actually, maybe it’s not part of the Biennale at all?
I also really liked the work by John Reynolds. The NZ-artist has created a memorable work featuring hundreds, maybe thousands of words printed on boxes, all displayed on a wall. While I sometimes think works like this can seem all a little contrived and PC, especially in the choice of words, I thought this work showed humour and intelligence.
The most memorable works, though, were probably those paintings by Biljana Djurdjevic. Set inside a swimming change room or was it a Nazi gas chamber (or something like that), the images were of frightened, disturbed people with wide eyes and pale skin. I interpreted one work, “Paradise Lost” as being about child abuse, though I could be wrong.
Every time I catch a plane I try to avoid eye contact with the other passengers as they come down the aisle towards me. I’m thinking, “If I don’t look at you, you won’t sit next to me, and I’ll be able to have two seats to myself”. It’s a crazy thought and nine times out of ten it never happens, but today it did. Today it’s just me and one other sharing four seats for the final part of my journey home to Sydney.
It was such a relief, as I was starting to feel a little fragile. The first part of the trip home was a bit of a breeze actually. As always, I was asleep before take-off, woke in time for the evening meal (chicken rice or beef rice), read for a while, organised some photographs for a while, and woke up just in time for breakfast. I woke feeling pretty good, and the time zone difference was manageable.
I thought I could sleep well on planes until I discovered the bloke next to me. I’ll call him Soren, as he was Danish. He wasn’t asleep before take-off, but he spent most of the flight passed out even up until landing. The flight attendant woke him with a fright when she asked him to put his table upright.
With a few hours to kill at Beijing airport I was hoping to check in at the airport hotel where I caught a few hours of shut-eye on the way to Stockholm. As the next part of my trip was a domestic flight to Shanghai, I wasn’t able to do that. The domestic section of Beijing airport doesn’t have quite the facilities of the international. I struggled to find an ATM, and there was nowhere where I could have a shower to freshen up. So I found a quiet space, used my hand-luggage as a pillow and picked up an extra two hours deep, dream-sleep.
It was beef rice of chicken rice again from Beijing to Shanghai and once again I chose the beef. I always figure there’s a lot more that can go wrong with chicken and seafood, and so beef is always a safer option.
At Shanghai things started to get a little difficult. At Stockholm I was able to check my luggage right the way through to Sydney, but was told I would need to pick up a boarding pass for the Shanghai to Sydney part of the flight once I arrived in China. In Beijing they said I would need to do it in Shanghai, and in Shanghai they told me that was wrong. They also told me my luggage was in Shanghai not Sydney and I would need to go back to the arrivals terminal to pick up my bag which had been circling around for a few minutes. I couldn’t instantly get back in, of course, and had to negotiate my way back through a staff entrance.
Airport Lounge
That’s when I started to think “this is all too hard” and was starting to feel the effects of long-distance travel. That’s when I was also starting to feel a bit sticky and grumpy and desperately in need of a shower. As there wasn’t one at the airport, I headed to the nearby airport hotel. Sadly, I couldn’t book a room for a few hours. “How much is a room for the night?” I asked the attendant. When she told me it was about $70 AUD, any sense of middle-class, Catholic or first-world guilt disappeared quickly. “I’ll only be there for two hours”, I told her, “but yes, I’ll have a room for the night”. I had a great shower, had a little lie down, changed my clothes, and was well and truly feeling much better.
Having enjoyed a really relaxing wonderful holiday, I didn’t want it to end with an arrival back in Sydney where I was feeling grumpy and jet-lagged. Now, with the extra leg-room and sleeping-space afforded by the extra seat, I feel like I may have avoided it.
Oh yeah, and it was beef with rice or seafood with rice for tonight’s evening meal. I went with the beef again.
“It only takes a day to get to Australia”, I kept telling people in Sweden in reply to their “Oh Australia is such a long way away” comments. I’m trying to believe it’s really so.
Attention: This post includes a close-up image of my amputated limb. My niece, who is a nurse, assures me she’s seen “much worse”. But sharing here in the interests of bringing a bit of reality to it all.
Friends, family, colleagues, and hospital staff all have a differing viewpoints regarding the pace and manner in which I should resume work.
This is because my “Patient Care Board” now has “estimated discharge date” of September 4. Personally, I’m not convinced of this timeline, considering that I’m still awaiting the creation and fitting of my prosthetic limb.
Some have argued I should allow my body ample time to rest and adjust by taking an extended break. It’s worth noting that I’ve accumulated a substantial amount of personal (sick) leave over my nearly thirty-four years of service at the ABC. Throughout this time, I’ve rarely taken a sick day unless genuinely unwell, which has included the occasional flu and a couple of operations. To be precise, I’ve amassed ninety-four weeks of personal (sick) leave. Almost two years.
Conversely, others have recommended a swift return to work, arguing that this could aid my rehabilitation, as the body gets used to a “new normal”. In response to a question from the rehabilitation specialist, I mentioned that I’ve been dabbling in a few emails, taken a few calls, and I’ve dropped in to a couple of video meetings. He said I should maximize my work involvement as much as possible. Given his reputation as a leading figure in the rehabilitation field, I’m inclined to heed his advice.
Of course, I’m also pondering what awaits me upon returning home. Part of me contemplates the idea of transitioning in the short-term to part-time employment even if a full-time return is feasible. This would allow for some essential “life maintenance” activities alongside medical appointments. I believe there’s value in engaging in activities like shopping, gallery visits, and leisurely walks during quieter weekdays. Nevertheless, I’ll prioritize the medical insights over the multitude of opinions and emotions around me. Still, if you’ve been in a similar circumstance, I’d love to hear your comments.
In my five weeks of rehabilitation, I’ve only missed my daily gym sessions twice. The first occasion arose due to a sudden drop in blood sugar levels, leaving me light-headed and low on energy. The second instance on Sunday followed intense pain in my stump, leading me to request pain relief that caused a lengthy period of drowsiness.
For context, I’m typically cautious about taking pain relief unless truly necessary. The few times I’ve sought additional pain management, I’ve been administered Palexia, an opioid suited for moderate to severe pain. This medication requires the presence of two nurses for witnessing and signing off, to make sure I’m not stashing it away. While not the most potent pain relief I’ve encountered, it surpasses the effectiveness of the panadol I’ve been using most days.
A friend brought me a piece of blu-tack today so I could decorate my bedside.
Aside from rehabilitation, there is the progress of my wound healing that needs to be taken into account.. Earlier today, the wound specialist told me me that the wound size has halved since Friday. She used the term “stoked,” a term from our younger days (we’re about the same age). This upcoming Wednesday, they’re scheduled to evaluate the stump again and provide a further assessment of what happens next.
Amputation wound on my right leg.
Once the wound fully heals, they’ll be able to start work on my prosthesis. It’s likely going to take two or three weeks for this to happen, I understand, though I’m mentally prepared for a delay.
This coincides with a “Planning Meeting” with the National Disability Insurance Scheme on Thursday this week. This meeting is a prerequisite for releasing funds for essentials like the prosthesis, wheelchair, and other necessities.
It’s interesting to note that eligibility for the scheme is limited to those under 65, likely due to the conventional retirement age. As I approach 58, with some years of work potential left and a job that’s not physically demanding, a return to work appears to be within reach for me fairly quickly, and maybe that’s why my NDIS application was approved so quickly.
I should know more about the future by the end of the week.
Like this:
LikeLoading…
Related
2 Comments
While I can’t imagine why I did so, I came across a photo in my mother’s collection of me wearing a a skinny tie at my sister’s 21st. I don’t think I have worn one since. Ties are pretty stupid now.
While I can’t imagine why I did so, I came across a photo in my mother’s collection of me wearing a a skinny tie at my sister’s 21st. I don’t think I have worn one since. Ties are pretty stupid now.
They have their place!