Heavenly Beverley : Post Wiping, Boom Lowering And Other Activities!

Ever finished a reasonable volume of written work and sit back, feeling smug and self-satisfied? I was just enjoying the moment, proofreading my latest post, adding a witty comment or two and pressed what I assumed was the edit button...Which I, unfortunately, didn't. I think I actually hit that pesky tab named "Delete".

Bollocks.

I haven't deleted an entire essay like that for many years. Back in the Dark Ages, when "word processing" was the phrase, I would laboriously type key after key, one at a time, terrified that the unpredictable machine would gobble my work as an aperitif and then devour me as the main course. I viewed computers as a mechanical form of triffid and certainly didn't trust them. Who else remembers those startling electronic noises that were uttered by these devices whilst (attempting) connecting to the World Wide Web? Why else would a computer produce such jarring chalk-on-blackboard squeals and shrieks unless it was intent on murder?

Time has moved on and so have I. Enormous computer towers, bulky screens and metre-length keyboards have been replaced by much smaller, tidier and refined machines that can be transported in one's shoulder bag. But today, I have lost faith in my laptop. Obviously, it was sending mind-altering pulses through my eyes so I would foolishly and helplessly click on the incorrect icon. I can't think of any other logical reason why I would hit "Delete". Maybe in the Olden Days...but surely I am now a hip, savvy, confident user of technology? Unless I temporarily flipped out and turned into a complete dunderhead.

Bollocks.

We are reminded just how much we depend on computering for our everyday lives. They command our attention and keep us informed. Back in the Time of the Dinosaurs, we had to wait for information to be telephoned or faxed. There was no fast response turnaround. Now, for better or worse, news that we hope or fear arrives rapidly whether we like it or not.

We travelled to see our GP Stephanie on Tuesday afternoon. We had received a request to make an appointment following our blood tests of the previous week. Instructions to visit the doctor are not usually Good News. We had a fair idea of the test outcome. Now to have concerns confirmed.

The boom was lowered. Michael had become diabetic. We had thought pre-diabetes. Not the whole shebang. After we'd recovered from Stephanie's announcement, she became more upbeat. Michael was only just diabetic, according to the numbers. If he took his health seriously and could shed ten kilos in three months, his descent into diabetes could be fully reversed. Stephanie wasn't interested in medication or fats or sugars. Just calorie counting and losing weight was her mantra. And then she started with her stories...

Stephanie regaled how some patients are just completely deaf to warnings. The tricks she had to employ to stun people into listening to her. Humour, bribery, pleading, games. Find an Achilles Heel. How a condition could mess with a specific bodily function. Or stop a loved occupation. Or cause prolonged and painful illness, rather than just tidily dying.

So, we are on Day 2 of Michael's weight loss programme. We have already had plenty of ups and downs. All his food intake has to be measured and counted. We have already cheated. He has already been grumpy from hunger. Portions have been cut, veggies increased out of sight and bread completely removed.

I have had to learn, fast, how to make him satisfying breakfasts other than toast or cereal. Yesterday's strawberry pancakes were a bit hoo hum. Today, substituting unsweetened orange juice instead of milk and topping with a few stewed apples was delicious. Tomorrow, I'll be trying banana pancakes.

His daily food allocation is 1400 calories as we have quarantined 200 calories for vino. Loosely, that means 200 calories for breakfast and snacks, 300 calories for lunch and 500 calories for dinner. This is his goal. This is tough.

On a brighter note, Michael can just about get away with any misdemeanour at present. And he is trying to be busy to avoid thinking about food. The yard's whipper snipping is in full flight. We hope to persuade any resident snakes to find other homes by removing their grass cover. The picket fence is progressing. A new metal sculpture has begun taking form on paper. Next week, we plan to clean up the yard before Digger returns from his service. Hopefully, Michael's hunger (and mine) will reduce significantly sometime soon.

And the Gallery is always there to distract us. Yesterday was quietish. Today we welcomed an enthusiastic foursome on a slow crawl through the Wheatbelt towards the Big Smoke, a couple of young mums filling in time whilst one of their husbands was flying a tow plane at the gliding club, a volunteer collecting for WA Disabled Sports and a Vietnam vet Mort, his wife Viv and the grandkids off to a weekend veteran event in Bruce Rock.

Two of our aspiring artists rose to the challenge and delivered their original pictures to the East End Gallery. Sophia produced a delightful and engaging self-portrait. Ella took concentration and determination to complete a beautiful echidna mandala. Both deserve congratulations for participating in a scheme dreamed up by a slightly kooky front-of-house.

Tomorrow, I will be vacuuming up all the fly corpses in the Gallery. With the arrival of the warmer weather, the flying fiends are ever present and very sticky. This could be a blessing in disguise. One of Michael's favourite occupations is to vacuum flies in midair. He is surprisingly accurate and the exercise occupies his mind. Which means he is not thinking about food.

An interesting week thus far. Let's see what the last two days bring.