See you next Tuesday

ByJames O'Brien

I treated myself to lunch today at Kinsela’s, a pub at Taylor Square in Sydney, which serves an excellent $15 lunchtime Chicken Caesar Salad. I discovered this a couple of years ago when I was regularly attending appointments at the nearby St Vincent’s Hospital (Sacred Heart) following my lower limb amputation.

Since then, coupled with other health problems, I have regular medical appointments, which I mostly schedule on Tuesdays. This allows me to consolidate them and take time off work efficiently.

Today I had two appointments scheduled: one with my physio and another with my podiatrist. Unfortunately, the podiatrist cancelled. The text notification went straight to my spam folder, so I didn’t see it until it was too late. This unexpected free time gave me the chance to go out for that very pleasant lunch.

Chicken Caesar Salad for Lunch

My physio was very encouraging today, remarking that I’m doing almost as well as I was before my hip fracture and replacement at the end of February. This was great to hear, as sometimes I feel I’ve taken a significant step backwards.

In our session today, we worked on a range of exercises: sideways movements, walking backwards, and similar activities, all aimed at building strength.

It’s certainly been a rollercoaster over the last few years, and my physio has been a constant support. She’s been there every week or fortnight, helping me along the way since I left Sacred Heart Rehabilitation at St Vincent’s Hospital.

We have weekly or fortnightly sessions where we review my progress from the preceding weeks and plan exercises for me to do between visits.

The emphasis for the next couple of weeks will be on rebuilding muscle strength, as it seems I’ve lost some, especially around my hip. Equally, I need to ensure I maintain balance and don’t develop too much strength on one side compared to the other.

Reflecting on my physio session today, I also reflected on the significant number of specialists and medical people I now see regularly. This is a consequence of an amputation a couple of years ago (where diabetes was a factor) and a hip replacement a few months ago (where osteoporosis played a role). I thought I’d list the types of professionals I frequently visit, in case you’re in a similar position:

  • Sacred Heart Rehabilitation: I return every few months to review my progress with a team that includes specialist rehab doctors, physios, prosthetists (the people who look after my prosthetic legs) and podiatrists.
  • Hip Replacement Follow-up: I’ve had a follow-up meeting at the other hospital where I had my hip replacement to review progress.
  • Diabetes Clinic: Due to my diabetes, I attend a specialist clinic at St Vincents also. My medication has been reviewed there, and as part of that ongoing process, I’ve transitioned from insulin to oral medication. I have a follow-up in a couple of months to monitor this. My observation lately is that my medication might need adjusting, or I need to work more closely with my dietitian.
  • Prosthetist: I see a prosthetist fairly regularly. They’ve helped with the provision of my prosthetic limb and monitor my progress. For example, after my hip replacement, the length of my prosthetic needed adjusting. Also, as my residual limb has changed in shape and size over the last couple of years, they’ve made various adjustments.
  • Podiatrist: I see a podiatrist every few months. It’s crucial to ensure diabetes doesn’t negatively impact my remaining leg and foot. The podiatrist checks for any diabetes-related damage, assesses sensation, trims my nails, and generally keeps an eye on things.
  • Bone Density & Osteoporosis Clinic: I’ve had a bone density scan and will need to attend an osteoporosis clinic from time to time.
  • General Practitioner (GP): On top of all this, I see my GP regularly for overall health management. She handles referrals to specialists, manages my prescription medications, and coordinates other necessary tests or procedures.
Getting measured up for a prosthetic limb.
Sexy hairy legs! My lower right limb amputation.

It’s been quite a journey. I’ve gone from only seeing a doctor when I was sick to now needing regular medical attention to manage my health. If you find yourself in a similar situation, these are some of the many professionals you might also encounter.

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Hot Cross Buns from the Surry Hills Bakery opp The Mall

Good Friday

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Hot Cross Buns from the Surry Hills Bakery opp The Mall
Hot Cross Buns from the Surry Hills Bakery opp The Mall

Maybe it’s because I spent the first thirty years of my life in the country? Or maybe it’s because things have changed? But there was a time, I recall, when hardly any shops were open on Good Friday and there was hardly any movement. It was a day of sitting at home and watching those 1950s and 1960s religious epics that dominated the television schedule. In some ways, it seemed quieter than Christmas Day. That’s all changed.

Even at about eight o’clock, the local cafes in Surry Hills were starting to attract a significant crowd of customers, as I popped down to the street to my local bakery for some hot cross buns.

Seriously, I love hot cross buns. You can imagine my disappointment yesterday morning when I called in to my local baker (to buy some to take to work for morning tea for everyone) only to be told they were all sold out. This morning, however, they had plenty, and so I consumed all but one in a sitting accompanied by some orange juice and a coffee.

I consumed them as I half-watched Karl and Lisa and then Kerry-Anne on morning television (yes, they were on this morning), while mostly concentrating on listening to the radio. On the radio, by the way I learned from Tim Fischer who was on the phone from The Vatican, that Good Friday isn’t a public holiday even there.

By the time I left the house properly at around midday, all the cafes werel pretty busy, and so too was the pub on the corner.

I was on my way to a BBQ in Dulwich Hill to celebrate a friend’s birthday. It was a lovely afternoon filled with great conversation. I enjoyed it very much, even if I was – jokingly – chastised for a moment for failing to update my blog lately. “it’s part of my daily routine”, I was told. Sorry. I think I’ve got my mojo back.

Catching the bus home – oh yeah, the buses still observe the “go slow” on Good Friday even if everyone else doesn’t – I wandered in to Chinatown to grab some dumplings for dinner. Honestly, the place was packed. And in the area of my favourite dumpling places near the Burlington Centre, there was even someone playing popular classics on the violin. The place was jumpin.

So yeah, Good Friday has changed.

Dominoes

Imagine, if you would, half a dozen people aged from 25 to 70 all seated around a couple of tables at an inner-city bar in Sydney. On the tables in front of us were a couple of packs of dominoes. Without hesitation, under the influence of a couple of happy hour priced beers, the packets were opened and the dominoes were being distributed. Very suddenly, however, we all realised it was so long since any of us had played the game none of us could really remember the rules. We stumbled along as best we could and played by our own rules.

In the group of people I work most closely with, we don’t often go out for drinks after work. The “drinking culture” of the media seems to have “softened”, as people have partnered off, gained children and so on. In the midst of that change, it was really lovely to catch up with some colleagues, including some I haven’t really seen that much of lately, and to play, somewhat badly, a game of dominoes as we chatted.

Two Years On: Reflections on My “Stump-iversary”

Two Years On: Reflections on My “Stump-iversary”

Just two years ago, my life took an unexpected turn with the amputation of my lower right limb. Today marks that anniversary, or as I’ve playfully dubbed it, my “stump-iversary.” I even briefly entertained the idea of a foot-shaped cake to celebrate, though I quickly decided against it. While my family has a quirky sense of humor and usually plays along, I’m pretty sure that would have been the moment they declared me officially mad!

The first anniversary last year was a significant milestone. I’d gone from being fully active to suddenly living with a physical disability, after months spent in hospital and rehabilitation. Returning to work part-time and rebuilding my life felt momentous. This second anniversary, however, crept up on me. Its arrival was primarily prompted by the end of the financial year, a date I often joke about as my “end-of-financial-year leg cut.” It only clicked when June 30th turned into July 1st.

Cheers!

I was sharing this with my sister today over morning tea, here in my hometown of Lismore. It’s been great visiting family and escaping Sydney’s awful weather – the rain, cold, and general gloom. We had a few days of rain here over the weekend, but today was glorious and sunny. People in Sydney often assume Lismore is perpetually flooding, but it’s not! It’s actually really lovely here right now and looks set to stay that way until Sunday.

I’m working from home while I’m here, though I’ll be popping into the Lismore office for a couple of days this week. It’ll be a wonderful chance to see colleagues I genuinely like and remember fondly. When I was in the hospital, they sent me a care package filled with local chocolates, cookies, and coffee. When that package arrived, I honestly burst into tears. It was such an emotional moment, one of many gifts and well wishes I received throughout my hospital stay.

My time in hospital brought me much closer to many of my colleagues, but it also created a distance with others. For some, I’m now simply “the guy with the disability.”  But here I am, two years later, still at work. And why not? My office-based job means I can do everything on my computer or mobile, largely communicating with people, which is the essence of my industry.

This entire experience has also strengthened many of my friendships and family relationships. People who visited me in the hospital, looked out for me, and took care of me when I was incredibly vulnerable. They saw me when I was truly sick, in a coma, and even when I was experiencing some pretty wild hallucinations.  Love.

It has fundamentally shifted my outlook on life in many ways. I’ve always worked incredibly hard, and while I still give 100%, I’m less inclined to check in outside of hours now. Occasionally I do, but mostly I lead a normal working life.

In the past couple of years, I’ve also felt motivated to achieve things. Perhaps it’s a strange psychological drive to prove myself, both to myself and to others. That’s why I did things like walk in Mardi Gras and travel to China. There’s still a sense of that “young kid from the wrong side of the tracks in Lismore” who feels he needs to prove everything.

I’m also much more acutely aware of my own mortality. I always knew my family wouldn’t live forever, but I came awfully close to the end two years ago. This has prompted me to think deeply about what I want to do with the rest of my life and what that truly means.

Furthermore, I feel a stronger motivation to contribute to disability advocacy. I’ve joined a couple of working groups and engagement groups, which has introduced me to a much broader spectrum of people living with disabilities than I would have encountered in my previous day-to-day life. This has been a truly insightful experience, helping me realize how fortunate I still am in many aspects of my life. Perhaps there’s something meaningful I can do in the disability space to help others.

So, there it is: the unexpected journey of living with a physical disability, coupled with the natural process of getting older. These are the thoughts weighing on my mind as I celebrate my “stump-iversary.”

Lessons learned from my amputee trip to China, thoughts on the plane

Lessons learned from my amputee trip to China, thoughts on the plane

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Two years ago, I had returned from an overseas holiday with a severe infection that led to the amputation of my lower right leg. To mark the second anniversary, I decided it was time to prove to myself that my travelling days were not over.

I chose China for a number of reasons. A super-cheap travel deal was the main driver, but it was also the appeal of visiting somewhere familiar. I had been to China twice before and felt I knew what I was getting myself in for, at least in terms of the physical challenges.

The decision to join a group tour as a single person, however, weighed heavily on my mind. I didn’t want to be a burden or, worse, a subject of pity. I worried about spoiling their holiday if I fell over—a real concern, as only a few months prior, a fall had resulted in a broken hip and a complete replacement. In the end, I made a pact with myself: I would only go if I felt absolute confidence in my ability to travel independently. Right up until a couple of days before the flight, I still had my doubts.

My prosthetic limb certainly attracted some interest during the trip. On one occasion, an older woman stopped dead in her tracks, pointing at my leg in shock. I just smiled back and offered a platitude about how well it works. In the entire week I spent exploring cities and towns, I was the only visibly noticeable amputee I saw. It reminded me of a trip to a rural town 15 years earlier when I had seen a man without legs begging on a footpath. That’s not to say there are no amputees in China; they just weren’t visible in the same way.

The tour itself presented the challenges I had anticipated. The cobblestone streets and the sheer distances were demanding. On the day we visited Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City, our group clocked up 18,000 steps. In amputee terms, you can probably double that for the amount of additional effort involved. The two older women on the tour wisely hired a wheelchair and an assistant for the day, which cost them about $80. They assured me it was worth it, and as I struggled with the distance and the heat, I wondered if I shouldn’t have been so stupidly independent and joined them.

The “yellow” tour group, led by Eric made up with people from Australia and New Zealand

A visit to the Great Wall was always going to be a test. I had climbed it twice before in my youth, scaling the heights with friends. This time, I could only manage a few steps up the steep, cobbled incline. “It’s not so bad,” I told a young man from Tasmania who congratulated me on making it that far. “You see a lot more when you take it slowly.”

Walking on the flat bit of the Great Wall of China

There was only one day when I really struggled. It was raining, making surfaces slippery, and we had to get on and off boats with a distinct lack of handrails. But throughout the trip, the 41-person tour group was a source of incredible support. Members would often offer assistance, not from a place of pity, but genuine kindness. Though I mostly declined with a “thank you, I need to do it myself,” there were a few moments when a helping hand was a welcome relief, and I smiled with a simple, “Thanks, that would be lovely.” They were a great group of people.

A couple of days before heading off, I spotted a “Made in China” rain poncho at Big W. I only used it one, but it sure came in handy on the day it was needed.

This sense of camaraderie culminated on our second-last night. On the bus, one of the participants led an extended chorus of the Slim Dusty song “Duncan,” with personalised verses for everyone on the tour. When my turn came, I told them with a smile, “It’s okay to change ‘he never gets rolling drunk’ to ‘he never gets legless drunk’.” The bus erupted in laughter.

The institutional challenges, however, continued right up to the end. There was a moment, as I waited for the wheelchair to depart from Hangzhou Airport, that I had to laugh at the bureaucracy. Even though I had pre-arranged assistance, there was an added layer of paperwork to fill in and an additional counter to visit.

It’s worth noting that wheelchair assistance in China is nowhere near as common as in Australia. Back home, it’s a regular sight to see people being assisted through airports. In China, while the staff were wonderfully helpful, they did seem a little unprepared for the logistics. On one flight, a single staff member impressively pushed two separate wheelchairs at once. On another, I was initially assigned one person, but two others soon arrived to help. Despite the institutional differences, the support I received was great. During one of these transfers, an attendant politely asked if the man pushing my chair could have a photograph with me. Perhaps I looked like a famous celebrity instead of an old white guy from Australia? Of course, I agreed and, in return, asked for a photo with them as well.

After the delays at Hangzhou, I breezed through customs and security for my flight home. The journey ended with one last, unexpected hurdle upon arrival back at Sydney Airport. I was “randomly” selected for a full quarantine screening, which slowed down the otherwise speedy process. The one upside to this final delay was getting to meet a very diligent sniffer dog named Emma, who gave my bags a thorough, but ultimately approved, inspection.

Though it was a great trip, it’s great to be back home nonetheless. There’s no place like your own bed. The only downside? After a week or so in the northern summer, it’s freezing back in Sydney!!

Post Script

I shared a few of my experiences on the Facebook group, TripaDeal China Family and therse were some of the responses to my observations and tips about travelling with a disability.

“I found the tour amazing with my mobility challenges. Tripadeal contacted the guide company who were happy to accommodate my small lightweight scooter.”

“Love reading about your experience. Everyone seems to be saying the same thing about tour groups helping each other. I’ve booked my first trip for October.”

“Thanks. I’m concerned about being too slow (old army injury can slow me down when I’m getting weary) and hearing this makes me a bit more comfortable!! We leave Monday, cannot wait!!!”

“Thank you for sharing your experience. I also took all assistance I could when we did our trip in 2023. Wheelchairs at Airports, at various attractions etc. I also took a walking stick which could easily be converted into a seat, and therefore was able to sit for short periods instead of standing. Our Guides were fantastic and very helpful, and so were the members of the Group we were travelling with. It is challenging, however, with a bit of planning it is absolutely doable.”

“We both have mobility issues. Hubby took a small fold-up seat and I took a hiking stick. Also, we had excellent members in our group who helped us with our mobility issues like helping me up and down stairs.”

“Hi, what a great post! Practical advice and with a positive can-do attitude. You should do blogs for travellers in the same situation, as some may be afraid to venture out. Well done.”

“I love this post – so glad you got to enjoy China despite your disability. I look forward to reading more of your travels and how you navigate things.”

Window Shopping in Hurlstone Park

Hurlstone Park Shop Window
Hurlstone Park Shop Window - you know what you are getting, at least.

The shop windows at Hurlstone Park aren’t as glamorous as the ones we have in Surry Hills, that’s for sure.

In Surry Hills, we have the fashion shops, the cafes, the “Melbourne-style” small bars, and the bakeries where you spend as much time in the queue as they do in parts of the former Soviet Union.

But in Hurlstone Park, there’s no such glamour. Instead, they have toilets.

The difference between the two suburbs became obvious again to me today as we walked back from the Maccas on the corner of New Canterbury Road to the home of The Best Judge.

Along with Grant, I’m helping him de-clutter his life at the moment, ahead of moving houses.

As previously described, it’s a big job. But it’s also a fun job, made all the more fun by being able to sit around with a couple of good mates as we go through a life and make some sense of it. We have plastic crates labelled “personal memorabilia”, “travel stuff”, etc, in which to divide things, and along the way you find the odd gem such as an old school report or a photograph you never new existed. There are lots of laughs to be had.

Every day we break for lunch at the nearby Maccas which is probably a blog entry (or a Phd) in itself. I’ve become a fan of the Angus meal, in case you’ve wondered.

To and from Maccas, we look into the shop windows. In addition to the previously mentioned “toilet shop”, there’s a hair dresser that offers to straighten your hair permanently and there’s a shop which sells a range of religious iconography. Strictly speaking, I think it’s an Orthodox Church shop (with the Greek and Australian flags in the window), though it bears a strong resemblance to the “Catholic Shop” that I grew up with in Lismore.

But, as previously mentioned, as a child I was always told if you couldn’t make it to a Catholic Church, an Orthodox Church was far preferred over a protestant one. I’ve been explaining this to my protestant friends who find the shop very amusing to say the least.

On arriving home I hit the couch pretty solidly. I’m working quite hard at the moment in lots of different ways, and I’m pretty bloody exhausted most nights when I come home.

A good night’s sleep and I’ll be back again tomorrow, and looking forward to a little more window shopping in Hurlstone Park.

Goldfish Memory

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It would be far too simplistic to label Goldfish Memory as Love Actually meets Queer As Folk (US Version) but there are elements of both productions in this movie.

In many ways, this was the movie that “Love Actually” could have been. Unlike “Love Actually” which had too many plotlines going on, this film concentrates on three or four main plotlines and it does them well!

But there are also elements of the US version of “Queer As Folk” with its emphasis on the common experience of gay and lesbian culture and the close friendships that gays and lesbians can experience. Mind you, there are shades of Go Fish when Angie describes the rather incestuous nature of a Dublin lesbian dinner party. Curiously enough, Red doesn’t appear to have any gay male friends.

Actually, the two most rounded, and most interesting characters, were Red (played by Keith McErlean) and Angie (played by Flora Montgomery).

And while I really enjoyed seeing the intimacy of their friendship, I was a little disappointed when the plotline went down a predictable path. Actually, a few of the plotlines went down the predictable path and that’s what I thought was a weakness in this movie.

And because of the predictability, although there are moments of genuine emotion I wasn’t especially “touched” by the movie. I also thought there were moments of great implausability; is everyone in Dublin bisexual, gay or lesbian or at least “on the turn”?

The one straight male in this is Tom (played by Sean Campion, a 40 something university lecturer – who bore a remarkable resemblance to a younger Neil Tennant from The Pet Shop Boys – is the real loser. The movie starts and finishes with his tragic pick uplines about the memories of goldfish and reading Goethe in German (didn’t Mouse like that in Tales Of The City, too?).

Although the version screened in Perth looked like it had been videotaped off television – complete with screen problems! – the scenery of Dublin was terrific and made me want to go back there. I’d forgotten there were so many bridges over the Liffey.

Despite some misgivings, I think it’s a good film. And I can really relate to the film’s central premise that, as far as love is concerned, human beings are just like goldfish which are said to have three-second memories… we forget how hard love can be when we fall in love again.

Anyway, the film comes to a happy ending, so I guess that’s a good thing. Really enjoyable!

2 Comments

  1. We of a certain age do have different medical people to deal with different issues. I didn’t imagine Kinsela’s was open for lunch.

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    1. I’m starting to pack ahead of my overseas trip, and my stack of medication/medical supplies has grown considerably in the last few years!

      Reply

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