“My physiotherapist probably wouldn’t be thrilled about this,”, I said to my niece as we made our way toward Lennox Head’s beach. It’s been precisely six months since my amputation, and navigating uneven surfaces, especially sandy beaches, remains a considerable challenge.
‘What’s the worst that could happen? I might take a tumble, but it’s just sand, so no serious damage,’ I joked.
Despite having visited the beach several times post-amputation, today marked my first venture down to the waterfront. A text message earlier from a hospital acquaintance sparked the idea, reminding me of a rehabilitation goal we had discussed.
Intrigued, I proposed during lunch at the Lennox Head Hotel, ‘How about we attempt a stroll to the beach?’
Navigating the route took some effort; crossing the road and finding the best path down to the sand presented challenges. Unlike Sydney beaches, there was no smooth pathway—only a somewhat ‘vague’ trail.
As we descended, we encountered a lone shoe, perhaps left behind by another amputee who had visited the beach.
The key to traversing the sand was a deliberate, slow pace.
With each step, the journey became more manageable, the sand firming up as we approached the water.
Upon reaching the water’s edge, a wave of emotion hit me, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit teary, contemplating the significance of this moment in my rehabilitation.
Realizing that my walking stick was gradually sinking into the sand, I decided it was time to make the journey back.
A great personal achievement for the end of 2023, looking ahead to 2024.
Twelve months ago in Sydney we were recovering from the dust storm. Twelve months later it remains a topic for conversation in Sydney. And it’s an event which has influenced two of the photographs in this year’s Sydney Life art exhibition in Hyde Park.
One is a reasonably straightforward representation of the storm taken on the north side just near the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The other is more interesting, and my favourite in this year’s exhibition.
Mikhail and the Dust Storm by Christopher Lawrie. It’s obviously been photoshopped in some way, as it features a young man with striking dark features (and a hint of redness in his eyes) against a background of the storm taken in the southern suburbs of Sydney.
Twelve months ago this weekend, Kate and I were on an art crawl, visiting a number of galleries, including the rather fantastic White Rabbit. Today I went on an art crawl of my own, taking part in a guided tour of Art and About.
Art and About has expanded quite significantly this year. This year in Hyde Park there’s a fair bit more than Sydney Life, with art and craft workshops and a rather spectacular idea which has involved dressing up various statues around the city in a variety of interesting and sometimes outrageous clothing and adornment.
Although much of the focus in the media and on blogs has been on Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and Captain Cook, I was rather taken with the William Bede Dalley statue in Hyde Park and the wild boar statue, Il Porcellino.
The Dalley statue was interesting because a) I’d never noticed the statue before and b) I loved the way they gave him sunglasses and a “green” theme. And I loved the wild boar statue simply because a) it’s a great statue anyway and b) the idea of putting wings on a pig is simple and effective.
As I wandered back through the city I jumped on a bus which I assumed would take me further back up George Street to Railway Square. Wrong. Before I knew it, I was half way over the Anzac Bridge. With a deep breath, I figured there was little to lose and it gave me an opportunity to wander – without plans – around Balmain. The one opportunistic discovery I thought I might made was visit/trespass on the White Bay re-development site which Carol mentioned. Although I was tempted and tried to trespass today, I couldn’t find a suitable entrance, and got scared at all the signs about not trespassing.
It was interesting to walk around some of the back streets of Balmain, though, especially since I only really know the main drag. I discovered, for example, a little laneway called Datchett Street which has wonderful houses, wonderful views, and is so tiny and intriguing, I couldn’t help but think I’d like to live there sometime.
Catching the ferry back to Darling Harbour, I attempted to purchase an ice-cream, but with lengthy queues – as bad as those at Sydney Ariport today – I ended up with a slurpee.
As I wandered back through the city I came across an unexpected parade which had closed off much of George Street.
If there was ever such a thing as the “Sydney Straight Mardi Gras” this was it. Lots of “golden oldies” rugby union players from Australia, NZ and the Pacific have gathered on George Street in a range of costumes. Lots of Aussie flags, kangaroo outfits, etc.
When I thought the day was just about over a mate invited me out for a drink and to listen to some old style disco tunes at The Midnight Shift.
Quite a diverse Sunday you might say. And a day with absolutely beautiful weather here.
Last week, I had the absolute privilege of interviewing Chris Blowes for an upcoming episode of The Limb Shift.
Chris’s story is one of the most harrowing yet resilient accounts I’ve encountered—a journey from the jaws of a five-metre great white shark to the world stage of adaptive surfing.
Hearing him recount the details in person was truly profound, especially as he described the incident on Anzac Day 2015. It was his first surf back after a minor knee injury, and while paddling back out, he was hit with immense force.
Chris told me, “It grabbed me so hard and it was going at so much pace. When it hit me, it sort of launched me out of the water… it popped up again behind me and, you know, pulled me underwater for the second time”.
The attack was brutal; he was opened up along his left side and ultimately had his leg amputated above the knee while still underwater. His mates, Nick and Brock, played a critical role in his survival, getting a tourniquet around his leg at the water’s edge—a move that likely saved him from bleeding to death.
Chris’s survival was nothing short of miraculous, as he clinically died in the back of a Landcruiser eleven kilometres down the road. He received CPR for over an hour at Port Lincoln Hospital.
Recalling the scene in the trauma room, Chris said, “I had eight units of blood and twelve units of plasma, which was the whole unmatched bloodstock in the Port Lincoln Hospital… They’d been going for so long and they’re like, ‘We probably need to stop, you know, he’s going to be brain dead.’ And I went to go pull the breathing tube that was in my throat out, and the whole room went silent”.
After ten days in an induced coma and eight weeks in hospital, his recovery was further complicated by complete renal failure. He described the dialysis process as a “world of pain” because it would flush out his pain medication, leaving him in “ten out of ten pain”.
Initially, Chris lost interest in surfing, the sport that had once been his “addiction”. It took two years and some prompting from his mates to get back into the water. He reflected, “I think when I lost surfing, I almost lost a part of me in a way… getting up and going for a surf is probably my go-to when I’m having a bad day now”.
Standing up as an above-knee amputee presented unique challenges, but Chris adapted, starting on a longboard to avoid catching his foot on the tail. His passion eventually led him to win the Australian adaptive surfing title and compete in the world para surfing titles in America.
Today, Chris is living a full life, working in the construction industry, performing corporate speaking, and raising two children. He continues to manage the physical and mental recovery, including phantom pain that feels like “electric shocks every 30s”. His advice for others in similar positions is simple: “Just stick at it. Be patient because it takes time to get back to that, you know, feeling good again… there’s normally more good days than hard days”.
It’s Saturday afternoon and I’ve just a little lie down on the couch, having spent a couple of hours this morning at work, and then going out for a yum-cha lunch at my new favourite little Chinese restaurant, Hingara. I’ve gotta say though, that although the food is terrific, the service can be a little scatty, especially when you have to remind them about most things.
I spent a couple of days in Melbourne this week. Thursday was officially a “work day” and I was going to have Friday off, but I ended up going in for a meeting on Friday morning as well.
While sitting at a terminal and checking my email, a voice boomed from behind, “I thought I recognised that voice”. It was Monty from Perth who’d recently moved to Melbourne. We had a couple of beers at a bar overlooking the Yarra and he told me ALL of the gossip from Perth, so if there are any Perth readers to this blog, your have no secrets! No seriously, it was a real delight to see him.
From there I spent an hour or so boozing at the Xchange Hotel, located on Commercial Road. It was actually the first time I’ve been to a “bar” in Melbourne in several years and it was pretty good fun. Quite relaxed, informal etc.
My friend Sue picked me up from there on Thursday night, we went back to her place and chatted for a while before hitting the sack. On the Friday we had lunch at a nice little cafe at Williamstown overlooking the water. The weather was absolutely spectacular, which was encouraging, since most times I’ve visited Melbourne it’s been in winter when it’s cold and wet. Monty commented that he loves Melbourne, but compared with Perth, “the beaches are shit”.
And aside from that, there’s nothing else to report. Paul has been in Cairns and Brisbane all week, so I’ve been a bit of a homebody. I also guess today is a bit of a “rest day” in anticipation of tomorrow.
The day starts off with a visit to the National Maritime Museum for a day of Scandinavian entertainment to celebrate the Vikings exhibition – Swedish folk dancing, an instrumental and choral Norwegian Ensemble and a Norwegian church service. Includes Scandinavian products for sale, food and craft stalls, films shown throughout the day with activities for children.
And from there, it’s off to Mardi Gras Fair Day, which will be Stuffed with great international icons and national heroes such as Sophie B Hawkins, Pinky Tuscadero, Madison McKoy, Reel Sessions, the vocal sounds of Sassin and the all-girl, all-out Violent Minx, this year’s entertainment program won’t let you stay on the ground for long.
“It’s a lot more hippie than I remember”, my friend Sue said as we made our way along the main street of Nimbin. “There’s a lot less drugs on offer”, I thought to myself. Sue had actually grown up in Nimbin to a family who had lived there for a couple of generations, whereas I’d only visited on a few occasions.
My only really significant connection with the “Rainbow Generation” was when they arrived at South Lismore Railway Station in 1973. I was living close-by and remember and to this day remember walking down the street to take a look at the arrival of the hippies.
Sue still has a lot of family living in Nimbin. Our other common connection is Paul who we went to school with (and his partner Kerry) who run Nimbin Valley Dairy which specialises in cheese production (especially goats cheese) but who also run a small milk line as part of their operation.
Nimbin RocksNimbin Valley PanoramaNimbin ValleyNimbin Cheese
When you’re a dairy farmer, both Christmas Day and Boxing Days can tend to be like any other work day. And so when we were invited out for Christmas Lunch/Dinner, there was an in-between period when we helped them with bottling, capping, and crating the milk ready for delivery. Sue was the capper. I was the stacker. “Are we slowing you down or speeding you up?”, I asked at one point with a smile.
And when I say “working from home”, I’m not talking about the “working from home” I’ve been doing for the last fifteen months.
“Working from Lismore” means something quite different to “Working from Surry Hills”.
I’ve been here for almost three weeks now, having returned home when Nancy became very ill and subsequently died. For the next week, I was involved in organising a funeral/wake and in organising some of her “affairs”.
But since then, I’ve been working from either the front bedroom or the kitchen of Pat and Jack’s place.
And when it became obvious Sydney was going into “lockdown”, I saw reason to return to there, and so I’m continuing to stay here in Lismore.
It’s a much different routine here. For a start, I’m going to bed fairly early most nights, though not always sleeping. Pat and Jack are both in their 70s/80s now, and so they go to bed early, after watching Neighbours, Home & Away, and NCIS.
They also have a nap most afternoons, which is providing me with an awful temptation. As I continue to work from the kitchen table, the phrase “we’re just going to have a little nap for a while” makes me jealous that I can’t do the same.
I’ve also started to develop a daily routine of going to a nearby coffee shop.
“How long have you been here?”, I asked the woman behind the counter. “About two and a half years”, she told me. I mentioned that I remembered when the building behind their coffee shop as Lismore’s Baby Health Centre.
“I used to bring my children here, to the Baby Health Centre”, the woman running the Duck Pond Espresso coffee shop told me.
As I go about my daily routine, Pat and Jack get on with theirs. As Jack no longer drives, he and Pat go for a daily trip to the shops, visiting both Aldi and Woolworths. They also do a variety of odd jobs, and right jow Jack (in his 80s) is helping a similarly aged friend to contstruct some scaffolding.
While I was working at the kitchen table yesterday, Jack was going through a box of old papers and found this.
In case you’re thinking of stealing all my money, my signature has changed a fair bit. How about the old fashioned “J”?
“What was the Gould League?”, a couple of younger colleagues asked me over a video conference. Though I understand the Gould League is still around to a degree, it doesn’t appear to have the same notoriety as it did back in the 1970s.
I told them it was an environmental organisation focussed on school kids back in the 1970s. Vincent Serventy was the face of the organisation. “I hope you stuck to your commitments”, Jack said with a smile. “Yes, I hope I have, too”, I told him.
The grass lawn outside Sydney’s “Museum Of Contemporary Art” is incredibly comfortable at the moment. So comfortable, in fact, that I fell asleep briefly there yesterday afternoon, enjoying the shade afforded, on another warm day in Sydney. Not as warm as other days, but warm enough. It was only the sunshine hitting my feet that woke me up, or I might still be there now.
What started as a Saturday afternoon walk down the street to grab a coffee, turned into a much longer walk to Circular Quay, stopping via the David Jones Food Hall for lunch, and eventually to the MCA where I snapped, these, my favourite works, from the visit.
Crutch Dance by Justene WilliamsManbuynga by Barayuwa Manunggur Native Gold by Danny Melor
And that nap. Perfect Saturday afternoon.
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4 Comments
Good on you James. Won’t be long and you’ll be rid if that stick.
Happy and prosperous New Year for 2024.
Not this time, as I’m already back here. Co-incidentally, I actually thought of you today, and the lovely visit you paid when I was in hospital. Hope you are well.
Good on you James. Won’t be long and you’ll be rid if that stick.
Happy and prosperous New Year for 2024.
Thanks Rod, and best wishes to you also.
Do you think you’ll be making it to the Memorial Baths?
Not this time, as I’m already back here. Co-incidentally, I actually thought of you today, and the lovely visit you paid when I was in hospital. Hope you are well.