“My wife has COVID for the first time, and I had it a couple of weeks ago”, a colleague told us as we sat around yesterday and consumed our work’s “Christmas Lunch”.
“Because I live alone and mostly work at home, I’ve managed to avoid it”, I told my colleagues, as we shared our experiences of the last twelve months.
However, in the last week or so I’ve been feeling tired, albeit without the “spicy cough”. Nonetheless, I think I’ll pop into the chemist tomorrow (wearing a mask) and pick up a RAT. Or maybe, it’s just because of a disturbed sleep pattern, waking up in the middle of the night and watching the World Cup? Also, I’ve been powering through the Nikki Savva book, “Bulldozed” about this year’s Australian election, which is very good.
It was a bit weird catching up with colleagues today, since some of whom I’ve only seen in real life half a dozen times this year.
“I’m so sorry, I missed your birthday”, one of them said to me. Another talked about their child starting school next year. “Oh my God, I remember when you brought them to work in a pram”, I said.
For me, it’s one of my busiest times of the year work-wise, as I help keep the ship sailing, while many others take time off.
I’m heading up to Lismore again, and will do my job from there for a couple of weeks.
The one bright spot from this year’s Lismore flood was a spending decision by my family. Despite being quite spartan, generally, they decided their “Christmas Treat” was to have air conditioning installed in the back part of the house.
“Has the air conditioning been installed”?, I asked Pat on the phone today. “Nah”, she said with disappointment in her voice. For some dumb arse reason, the installation won’t occur until February, she told me. “But we’ve got fans”, she added.
Between now and heading to Lismore, there are a few more Christmas parties to be had, including another this weekend.
Last weekend I caught up with some long-time friends, connected because we’re ABBA fans. It was a fun event, though we hardly talked at all about ABBA. I noted on the day we spent a lot of time talking about medical conditions, as you do when you get to a “certain age”. One of us retired earlier this year, another announced their “official retirement” on Saturday.
Not ABBA Drinks
I also caught up with some former colleagues last week and will be going to an event tomorrow night put on by the ABC Alumni, a group of former ABC staff members. I figured I should get to know what’s happening with them, as I edge closer to retirement.
I had the most fantastic nap this afternoon. I caught the bus from Canberra, and was asleep before we even left the city limits. When I woke, we were already at Liverpool. In preference to the train, or a car, or a plane, I really like the bus trip between Sydney and Canberra. Although it’s a little longer than driving, it’s faster than the train, and probably on a par with a plane, by the time you take into account getting to and from the airport at either end, as well as take-off and landing. And because I live near Central Station in Sydney, and generally stay in the centre of Canberra, it’s very, very convenient.
Add to that, you can have a nap, get some work done, watch a movie, and take in the sights of the Australian countryside. My two favourite parts of the journey are when, heading down from Sydney towards Goulburn, you enjoy the rolling declines of the Great Dividing Range, and closer to Canberra, you enjoy the vast landscape of the mysterious Lake George.
Wikipedia confirms “Lake George is an endorheic lake, as it has no outflow” of water to rivers and oceans”.
Though often derided as a clinical, sterile kinda place, I really like visiting Canberra. The population is awfully lucky in many ways, with (for the most part), good incomes and good facilities available to them. Though I usually try to visit a gallery or a museum or two, I didn’t have much spare time on this visit, focussed mostly on work.
Australian Of The Year AwardsAustralian of the Year Finalists
Aside from attending the terrific Australian of the Year Awards, and being totally inspired by people who contribute a hell of a lot more to the country than I do, I “reverted to form” on this visit, visiting my favourite restaurant (around the corner from the hotel where I usually stay), and eating my favourite meal.
Red Chilli, CanberraThey’re on the verge of launching their new light rail in Canberra. Though I understand it”s about three months behind schedule, back here, in Sydney, we should be so lucky.
Two months ago, when I first booked my flight home to Lismore for Christmas, my expected mobility was uncertain. I didn’t know if I would still be in a wheelchair, or getting around easily with my prosthetic leg. A colleague with disability (she also has prosthetic limbs) urged me to book a wheelchair, as “It’s one of the few advantages of living with disability, so you might as well make use of it.”
Contrary to a misconception amongst some friends and family that I wouldn’t “need” a wheelchair once I had my prosthetic leg, there is always the chance I will need to use a wheelchair again. The experience of learning to walk again after an amputation can be non-linear. While I haven’t used the wheelchair in about six weeks, the possibility of needing it again remains, especially if I might be unable to wear my prosthetic for various reasons.
All of this research also led me to explore the option of hiring a wheelchair while home in Lismore, and fortunately, our local South Lismore chemist offers a range of accessibility gear for hire.
I arranged for wheelchair assistance at the airport, too, just in case I needed it. However, upon arrival at Sydney Airport on Sunday, I informed the check-in staff that I wouldn’t require a wheelchair after all. A family in the queue behind me, with an elderly mother hoping for a wheelchair, overheard the conversation and, with the staff’s cooperation, arranged for her to use my wheelchair instead. They were a very happy family, and it was no skin off my nose.
Apprehensive about getting to and from Sydney Airport by public transport (as I normally would), I elected for an Uber ride, despite the peak hour price surge. The driver lived on the North Coast for a few years and we had lovely chat.
I was also worried about the length of the walkway between Terminals 1 and 2 (Qantas Club and Jet Star Checkin). Although there is an electric walkway between the two terminals, it goes too quickly for me to get on and off safely at the moment. Fortunately, there are also lifts between airport levels, despite one sounding like it was on its last legs, no pun unintended.
The airport security staff, understanding the challenge posed by my prosthetic limb, used a hand-held scanner, as I couldn’t walk through the x-ray scanner. They even offered a walking stick when my crutch needed to go through the scanner, with a security officer providing support for balance.
At the end, one of the assistants asked, “Do you prefer a lift or escalator?” This thoughtful approach, giving me the choice rather than making assumptions, was appreciated.
The only drawback was the distance to Gate 56 for my flight. Reflecting on a previous conversation I had with a colleague who also has prosthetic limbs about the potential advantages of using a wheelchair, she mentioned the possibility of long walks.
Upon reaching the Jetstar counter, I was greeted warmly, and an attendant offered a seat upgrade, securing an entire row for me.
Approaching Ballina Airport
Although I was first to be allowed on the plane, I was also the last to get off. At Ballina Airport there is only a staircase down onto the tarmac, though the option existed to use a lift up and down from the aircraft.
Though I didn’t need to use some of the accessibility assistance for the trip, it’s nice to know they exist. And of course, I should emphasize these were my experiences, and the experiences of other people with disability might be quite different.
My takeaway messages from this experience in case you need assistance. 1. Assume you might, just in case you do. The airline staff seemed to really appreciate the advance notice, rather than turning up unannounced. You can always change your mind if the circumstances change. 2. Have a conversation with your airline through chat or phone, so you understand what might be possible.
“Oh my goodness, he’s wearing an Expo 88 shirt”, I thought to myself as I stood net to a man at the lights near Taylor Square.
Although I’d left Brisbane earlier in 1988, I did return briefly on a couple of occasions throughout the year. And while I was there, of course, I visited Expo 88.
My memories of Expo 88 are somewhat dim now. I really only remember the queues.
But Expo 88 was definitely a turning point in the history of Brisbane. I think it’s generally regarded as the time when Brisbane made the change from “big country town” to “important Australian city”. Still, I think it might have been quite a few years later before Brisbane really was able to claim such a title.
So with a fondness for Brisbane, and a fondness for Expo 88, I debate the pros and cons of asking the bloke if he minded if I took a photograph. I ummed and ahhed for a minute or so, until finally summoning up the courage.
“You mind if I take a photograph of your shirt?”, I asked. “Not a problem”, he told me, adding that he’d been wearing the shirt since 1988. “It’s an original” he told me. For a shirt that’s been through the washing machine, hopefully, quite a few times since 88, it was in pretty good shape.
When you become an amputee, you are immediately introduced to a revolving door of medical professionals: specialists, physiotherapists, and prosthetists. While these experts are incredibly skilled, there is a unique, almost unspoken connection that occurs when you meet a professional who truly “gets it” because they have walked in your shoes—literally.
In an episode of The Limb Shift podcast, I sat down with Jeremy McGrath, a man whose journey from a terrified child to a Paralympic athlete and professional Occupational Therapist (OT) offers a profound look at the “lived experience” of limb loss.
A Difficult Choice and the Journey to Recovery
Jeremy’s story began with a difficult choice. Born with a limb difference, doctors initially suggested amputation when he was very young, but the idea was terrifying. As Jeremy recalled:
“The doctors brought it up again to me. Probably I was about seven or eight or nine. I was pretty young and pretty, pretty horrified at the idea of it. Um, got pretty emotional. Didn’t want to do anything like that.”
However, the medical team explained that as he grew, his leg would continue growing and make his prosthetics “more unshapely heavy,” subsequently limiting his ability to run and remain active. By the time he was fourteen, having given up sport, Jeremy reached a turning point. He realised that delaying the surgery would only make things harder once he hit major life milestones like his Higher School Certificate (HSC), university, and his career.
“I just decided if I have to get this done and I want to kind of live a healthy lifestyle and not limit myself and get back to running and fitness, I just made that decision. I have to do it,” he explained. He placed himself on a waiting list and underwent the amputation at age fifteen.
The immediate aftermath brought a fresh set of physical and social challenges. Jeremy changed schools at the same time, spending three to four months on crutches while navigating an entirely new environment. Because his pre-amputation prosthetic relied on heavy strapping all the way up to his hip, his right quadriceps lacked strength, requiring rigorous pre- and post-operative physiotherapy.
Furthermore, the physical adaptation to the new socket was a slow, painful process. As Jeremy noted, “The swelling was really large and took a long time for that swelling to come down, so had quite a bit of pain in the shoe first adapting to that, um, that socket or that prosthetic.” It took a full twelve months before he could properly return to sport and fitness.
The Psychological Shift and Finding Rowing
While the physical recovery required immense patience, the psychological adjustment was an entirely different hurdle. During his teenage years, Jeremy battled deep insecurities and actively avoided drawing attention to his limb difference.
“Going through high school, I didn’t want my personality or everyone to just look at and identify me through my legs. So I actually wore through the whole of high school long pants. I didn’t like to really bring too much attention to it. Um, so yeah, I was a little bit insecure. Definitely.”
Before his surgery, Jeremy had spent ten years playing soccer, using his heavily strapped leg to “belt the soccer ball.” Post-amputation, he found that kicking a soccer ball with a prosthetic was vastly different: “Sometimes I would kick the ball and my leg would go flying further than the ball.”
Losing that athletic outlet left him adrift until his final year of high school in 2012. Watching the London Games reminded him of attending the Sydney 2000 Olympics as a six-year-old, where he had harboured early dreams of competing at the Paralympics.
Searching for an accessible sport, he looked into rowing, mistakenly believing it was strictly an upper-body discipline. He soon discovered that rowing is actually predominantly a lower-body sport driven by the initial leg drive. “I might not have chosen rowing if I knew that at the time, but I loved the sport,” Jeremy admitted.
Fascinated by the water and embraced by a supportive local club, his rise was meteoric. Training six to seven times a week and waking up at 4:00 am, he made his first World Championships in Amsterdam in 2014—just two years after picking up an oar—and ultimately competed at the Rio Paralympics in 2016.
At the 2014 World Rowing Championships in Amsterdam, Jeremy McGrath competed with Kathleen Murdoch (prefers to be known at Kate). Together, they won the silver medal in the Legs, Trunk and Arms Mixed Double Scull (LTAMix2x) event.
For Jeremy, the true value of the Paralympic journey was not just the elite competition, but the profound psychological transformation it catalyzed:
“The main thing I got out of that whole experience was… the confidence, the fitness, being able to feel confident in my body and myself again, even if I didn’t make the Paralympics. I think growing and building all that and growing as a person was probably more influential on my life than necessarily the Paralympics.”
This newfound confidence completely changed how he carried himself; the teenager who once hid behind long pants completely abandoned them, choosing instead to wear shorts exclusively.
Landing in Allied Health
Jeremy’s career path was heavily influenced by a compassionate professional at Westmead Children’s Hospital during his adolescence. He recalled a physiotherapist “who not only was a great physio, but she really was a support for myself and my mother… I really felt cared for by her.”
Though he originally intended to pursue physiotherapy, he narrowly missed out on entry and “landed” in Occupational Therapy, initially planning to transfer after a year. However, once he discovered the holistic nature of OT, he fell in love with it.
While physiotherapy targets specific physical functions, OT evaluates daily living occupations in their entirety—from morning routines and parental duties to employment, leisure, and mental health. “I felt like, oh, this is a real opportunity where I can help people with more than just build up their physical strength, but be able to get back to doing things,” Jeremy shared, noting how perfectly it aligned with his own life philosophy of refusing to be held back.
Now a practicing clinician, Jeremy utilizes his personal history to break down barriers with his clients. Within the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) space, his background gives him a distinct advantage in establishing rapport:
“I think a lot of my clients, uh, when they find out that I, um, not just work in the NDIS but am a participant in the NDIS, I think they, they take that on board as, oh, this person not just knows about OT, but actually knows what it’s like to be in my shoes, um, and to have walked in them. So I think it really helps me build that rapport and understanding with clients.”
The Reality of Practice vs. Personal Habits
As an OT, Jeremy’s day-to-day expertise involves executing functional assessments, modifying homes, and prescribing assistive technology. This ranges from minor items like reachers to major mobility aids such as lift chairs, scooters, and hoists. Yet, despite nearly a decade in the field, Jeremy remains incredibly candid about his own shortcomings and the enduring pressure of maintaining a “stoic” persona.
Now in his early thirties and noticing the onset of back soreness, he has begun evaluating his own home for fall hazards, yet admitted that he does not always follow his own clinical advice:
“I think I’m very aware of falls, risks and how easy it is to fall. And even right now, I do have some falls in the shower. Even though I am pretty fit, I can balance one leg really well. Um, I don’t necessarily follow the best practices all the time that I tell my clients to follow, but, um, I think, um, you just need to be open and understanding of how serious falls can be.”
He acknowledged that being a young man makes it incredibly easy to default to silence rather than reaching out. “Being a man, being a young man, I think I like to be pretty stoic and not ask for help. Yeah. I think if my wife is here right now, she would agree with me that often I don’t ask for help when I probably do need it,” he confessed, highlighting that coming to terms with vulnerability is a lifelong, unfolding process.
Advice for the Journey Ahead
Reflecting on the fifteen years that have passed since his amputation, Jeremy emphasizes that the absolute hardest part of his journey was keeping his struggles internalized. For anyone currently facing limb loss or navigating a major physical transition, his advice centers on breaking the cycle of isolation.
“Once again, I’m going to come back to being that stoic man. You often keep a lot of thoughts and challenges to yourself… But the more open you can be to the close people in your life, the more that these people can come and help. And you’re never in this by yourself. You know, um, even just in if it’s not just your therapist and, uh, your medical team around you, but your support networks or your family members, your friends, uh, all these people want to help you. Um, and people can only help if you’re, you know, brave enough to have those chats and let them know what you’re actually feeling and thinking and experiencing.”
Jeremy’s full, insightful story will feature in The Limb Shift podcast later in the year.
On Saturday night, Colin and I went to see a play “We’ll Always Have Wagga” at the Newtown Theatre. Inspired to enjoy a little nostalgia on the play’s basic premise that everyone has a connection with Wagga Wagga, we made our way in the much welcome rain on Saturday night.
Synopsis: Bella had it all while attending Uni at Wagga: a promising acting career and the love of her life, Adrian. Ten years later she’s back in Sydney, single and working in a café. Her latest ex-boyfriend Sonny is stalking her, her heavily pregnant ex-best friend Gina won’t let her forget her woes and her co-worker Daria – an ex-cult member with serious mental problems – is no help at all! Her only salvation is her best friend Heath, who can’t seem to stop telling people exactly what he thinks of them! Bella’s life is ready to explode when Adrian walks into her café – and back into her life – with his fiancée, Josephine in-tow.
I don’t mean to be harsh, but we really shouldn’t have bothered, as we both thought the play was poorly scripted, poorly directed, and poorly acted. Enough said.
Last night, we also hit the town for something far more pleasant, a late night cabaret show at Statement Bar featuring Hayden Tee. As a performer, Hayden has come a long way since the regular late night spot at The Stables which we used to attend regularly. A little beefier than he used to be, he’s also grown as a performer: more confident, more rounded, more authentic, and with a wonderful voice. But most of all, more authentic, lacking some of the youthful nervousness evident in the days of “Muftee”. Hayden has grown into a really wonderful performer, and last night’s show was a joy to behold.
Tonight, I went to see a preview of “Clubland”, a new Australian film set in Western Sydney. The film stars Brenda Blethyn (the English actress probably best known for her role in Mike Leigh’s “Secrets and Lies”) as a formerly famous stand-up comedian, now working daytime in the canteen at Silverwater Prison, but spending her nights playing the RSL clubs, and dreaming of her “big break”. Although blessed with two wonderful sons, she’s deeply unhappy often hitting the bottle, and she maintains an unhealthy level of control over her son’s lives. The film is really terrific, genuinely warm and sad (and I cried a little towards the end), but also funny, though not in a “belly laugh” kind of way. Honestly, one of the loveliest Australian films I’ve seen in quite some time. It opens in May.
And then of course, I came home tonight to watch the Academy Awards. I mean, they’re basically the same each year, aren’t they? Some lame-arsed comedian delivering lame-arsed jokes and then, when they don’t get a laugh, they’re somehow being ironic. Lots of young actors and actresses I’ve never heard of, belated recognition for actors and directors previously ignored for most of their career, varying degrees of applause for the “death roll” of a bunch of people I’ve never heard of, and the occasional moment of honesty and sincerity, such as Forrest Whitaker’s acceptance speech. Sorry, I should stop, shouldn’t I?
