Countdown To Easter...

This post was actually started a week ago, before the chaotic whirlwind caused by a tooth abscess that landed me (fortunately) in the Joondalup Health Campus Emergency Department. Funnily enough, not that much has changed in the opening commentary...

Today is a beautiful, cooler, truly beginning-of-Autumn day. To have Station House thrown open is a glorious relief after ten grueling days of a persistent heatwave, which was like being shaken by the scruff of the neck - a reminder that Summer hadn't quite finished with us. Only the relative coolness of longer nights made the preceding days bearable. Arriving at our oval in the twilight for evening doggy playdates - Stella, Lexi, Onyx, Ruby, Violet, Reba and Bella - have delighted us with their comical jaunts, plus wearing all the dogs out suitably after the enforced inactivity during the heat of each day.

Quite often, Violet, a mid sized breed of indeterminate origin, has become the star of these nightly shows. Violet has the most enigmatic of smiles, rather like the Cheshire Cat. Although always happy to greet her canine playmates, she also will suddenly choose to ignore all within her orbit, including her Mum, Helen. She often chooses her own splendid isolation, gazing into the distance, a Zen expression on her lovely face. After a suitable sojourn, she may or may not choose to rejoin the group.

Following my success, albeit rather extended, producing Michael's webpage, I turned my attention to the layout of the East End Gallery once more. Bec, our jewellery designer extraordinaire, suggested a pink and green theme for Easter. She had already recreated a front window plinth with her jewellery, and with carte blanche, I grabbed the task with energy and gusto. All alterations were, thankfully, finished before I succumbed to my annoying and exceedingly painful affliction last week.

Saturday afternoon, the last of the oppressive heat was still present. I engaged in rather a lot of clock watching, but I was determined to see out the day. Meanwhile, Michael was cocooned in his Studio, U2 playing at full throttle. His man-cave, the coolest part of the building, was also alive with the sounds of grinding. His creativity was on display and overflowing; his sculptures promising to be more technically and artistically crafted with each new piece. .

Feeling suitably smug with the appearance of the East End Gallery and Studio 116, I was satisfied there would be no more fine tuning before Easter....

Saturday night came with a bang. Finally rain and coolness. Unfortunately, with the thunder and lightening, we ended up with Stella (Miss Panic Merchant) and Lexi (Miss Party-girl Goofball) on the bed with us. The comedy continued with Sir Chop's appearance and the horror of an invasion of dogs into his inner feline sanctum. Amazing we all survived the night!

Yesterday, we were visited by the lovely Alis Starink, with a couple of exquisite watercolours and the urbane Peter P with three fantastic photographs. Whilst Michael was watching the Western Derby with Gary, I was toiling away in the Gallery, re-arranging to allow for the latest art works...

The East End Arts Precinct (the Gallery, Studio 116 and the Vincent Street Emporium) are all looking stunning. We continue to receive absolutely wonderful reviews as we look forward to the Easter Weekend, which really marks the beginning of Heavenly Beverley's tourism season.

We hope that the Easter Weekend will be magical, entertaining, awe-inspiring and thought-provoking. And lots of fun. The 56th Annual Easter Art Prize and Exhibition will run from 17 - 27 April. The 91st Annual Tennis tournament (our own Wimbledon) is being played. The Saturday Easter Markets and an inaugural Easter  folk festival will feature at the Station.  Our  Easter Saturday Sundowner at the East End Gallery will kick into action with the evening. Studio 116 and the Vincent Street Emporium offer so much to their guests. Don't forget our other attractions - the Visitors Centre, Dead Finish Museum, Avondale Farm, Beverley Soaring Society, the Lucky Find boutique, Ferguson's Machinery Museum, County Peak/Quajibin, Yenyening Lakes and our beautiful heritage town waiting to entrance all our guests.

I can't wait! What about you? 

 

 

Backyard Friends...

 

 

Hoo Roo Kangaroo, let's ride off and create some shenanigans...

 

 

 

John Ives Western Australian prints...

 

 

"Beyond the Night Sky" - Brendon Hall...

 

 

A  table of treasures! 

 

Mark Roser's extraordinary "Stacks"...

"Pretty In Ink" - Mo Faas in the starry, starry setting of evening in the East End Gallery...

 

 

Caine Scott's bottle opener...

 

Anybody for tea? - Ros Newick

Decorative jar openers and glasses cases - Lee Storer 

 

 

Gone Potty

Caine Scott

Rodwoodcraft

 

 

 

Alis Starink's "Maria Island"

 

 

 

Creativity in every corner...

 

 

 

An amazing study of shadows on Fremantle's P&O Building...

 

 

 

Part of our western wall brimming with possibilities for your home...

 

 

 

Val Burns "Daisies"

 

 Mary Welsh

 

Ian Kay and Michael Sofoulis pushing the boundaries of  their sculptures...

 

 

 

Narelle Higson - "Wheatbelt Gold"

 

 Daryl Storer - Wood-turning with resin

 

 John Kaye - "Silver Princess"

 

 Johanna Larkin - "Sir Ram"

 

 Belinda Kay

Gone Potty

 

 Tich Dixon's cards

Di Mainwaring's rustling Cora Cow

Michelle Rothwell's slumped glass

 

 Joy Benvenuti

Sheila Monahan

Rebecca Luck

 

 

 

Craig McKeough 

Gary Dodge

John Firth 

 

 

Florian Schroeter - Rock Glass

 

 Brian Aylward - "Brian's House"

 

 Eastern wall treasures...

 

 Jo-anne Maire

Caine Scott

Daryl Storer

 

 A tantilising table of treats

 

"Nightwatch" - Carollyn Rhodes-Thompsom

Gone Potty

Tuppence's Turnings

 

 Michael with his Vase of Flowers...

 

 

 

Doggy playdates with Ruby (not Violet!)

 

 

 

Chop.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Tale Of Two EDs...

Back in the Gallery, finally, after a fairly momentous week. Last Thursday was a wonderful highlight - I was able to ride on Barry, my beloved exercise bike for the first time in a year. Twelve minutes. So proud. From then on, I was tossed onto a decidedly bumpy ride....

I started to feel an aching back tooth that evening. Exploring with my tongue, the discomfort seemed to be in the rather large chasm on the bottom right of my mouth. I'd had a extraction twelve months ago from that site, so I considered this to be phantom pain from the missing tooth.

Friday night the pain was worse and I was feeling quite under the weather. I resorted to the ever-reliable Panadol and concluded that I would have to ring the dreaded dentist on Monday. The weekend nights were awful. I dug out some Oxycodone, but that just added nausea to the mix. I was producing litres of sticky saliva, my jaw was painful and lymph nodes inflamed. 

Monday morning I contacted our faithful dental centre in Northam. They explained they would be unable to do any work on the tooth until the infection was under control through antibiotics. After much thought, we decided to abandon the dentist and go straight to the hospital. By this stage, the pain was terrible and I was exhausted and breathless.

Here is a  timeline of my experience at Northam Hospital on Monday afternoon. I have removed all emotion to be totally objective -

•  Arrival was around 1.30pm.
  

• A few patients waiting.
  

• Triage was undertaken. I have no memory of the nurse identifying himself. I explained my symptoms. I also demonstrated recent bruising from my right heart catheterisation and coronary angiogram on my right arm. Lots of typing. 
  

• I was told to proceed to the next window for administrative details. No chair.
  

• Instructed to move back to a waiting room chair. No administrative details taken. 
  

• An hour on a plastic chair in the waiting room.
  

• Taken into the Emergency Department. No wheelchair was offered.

• Another chair in a cubicle. No bed available.

•  No information about the toilet.

• No patient bell offered.
  

• No water.
  

•  One set of observations over four hours.
  

• I was repeatedly told by the staff  how busy the ED was that day. 

• My request for a wheelchair or nursing assistance to access the toilet was denied.
  

• Oxycodone and an antibiotic were delivered to me in a paper cup, along with a black hair. No response from the nurse when I commented.

• Patient band cut off and a script for oral antibiotics given late afternoon.

•  We were then ejected at about five-thirty.

I was exhausted by the time we arrived home with the precious antibiotics. I took more pain relief and an antibiotic and went to bed. The night was the worst I'd experienced. We had a doctor's appointment on Wednesday morning. I hoped for better treatment. 

Our GP was very kind but limited in his options. He wrote a referral letter to our local hospital for IV antibiotics twice daily, IV fluids and IV pain relief.

Along with the diagnosis of my various conditions over the last eighteen months, I have become panicky and emotional at times of feeling unwell. That's how I was feeling when we arrived at Beverley Hospital.

• Beverley Hospital is operated by two nurses, admin and other casual staff.
• There is no attending doctor.
• I would have stayed on my own for two nights as Michael was not permitted to board.

Trying to make a logical decision became incredibly difficult. I rang my cardiologist's rooms to ask for advice. She was consulting, so a phone-call back was the best we could do. I did not feel safe at our local hospital under their operating circumstances. I had become terrified of this infection and the possibility of sepsis seemed a potentially imminent threat. 

Northern Hearts' wonderful receptionist offered me the lifeline. With the referral from our GP, we could attend any Emergency Department. Anywhere. We returned home, packed some stuff and headed for Joondalup Health Campus.

Arriving just before three o'clock, we went into the Emergency Department. My apprehension was through the roof. Would I be taken seriously? Were my fears justified? Would I have to wait ten hours in the waiting room to be seen? What treatment would they offer? Would there be any sort of plan? Could Michael stay with me?

I took a ticket and sat on yet another plastic chair, leaning against Michael. I was utterly spent. Here is a timeline of events at Joondalup Emergency Department -

• Busy waiting room. "Take a number system" - for both patients and visitors. Three Triage stations.  

•  Called to Triage within fifteen minutes. Vital signs taken. Referral accepted. Questions asked by the triage nurse. My answers given. Much more time taken for this exchange.

• Admitted into the ED within another fifteen minutes. Initially in a wheelchair before being taken to a room within the view of the main observation station, known as the "Flight Deck". An administrative staff member found us and took our details.
  

•  Seen by multiple nurses and a doctor. Examination of my mouth.
  

•  Cannula inserted and bloods taken.

• CAT scan of my jaw.

• IV antibiotics begun. IV panadol given.

• Moved to an adjoining Pod, just at one end of the main Flight Deck. Small nurses station opposite my cubicle with all files for that part of the ED.

• Patient bell given.

•  Michael identified as a visitor and my husband. Steps taken for him to remain with me.

• Sandwiches, tea and water provided through the night.

• Breakfast tray, tea and coffee in the morning.

• My plan updated by ED doctors as results came in.

• Antibiotics and pain relief given as charted. 

• Seen by morning ED doctor to prepare for discharge.

• Advice about timing of my dental visit, a discharge summary and drugs all given. Encouragement to seek medical attention if symptoms worsened.

• Discharge twenty hours after admission at 11am.

That is the sequence of events in each Emergency Department in two hospitals - one country, one metro. Joondalup Hospital and its Emergency Department in particular, often seem to attract unfavourable publicity when patient treatment goes terribly wrong.

This is as it should be.

But who gives this hospital and this ED the kudos it deserves when a patient such as myself receives outstanding care and attention? Because good reviews rarely make a newsworthy story...

Joondalup Emergency Department is a place that beggars belief. Its size, its staff, its patients, its security and its visitors are a huge living machine. Overseeing the entirety is the Flight Deck. The ED is divided into different areas with multiple teams attending those areas. The PA is ever present. The lights never turn off. The noise can be deafening. There are phones that cause the staff's blood to run cold when they ring. 

Yes, there are patients being looked after by ambos in the hallways. Yes, there are people on stretchers being given IVs inside the ED. Yes, there are police present with patients who may be of dubious character. Yes, the stuff struggle to move patients out of the ambulances into the ED and out of the ED onto a ward. Joondalup Hospital is frequently at capacity.

What I also discovered is that the Joondalup ED is a profound snapshot of humanity. Patients may wander in and out of their cubicles. Visitors may wander around, looking for their friend or relative or the toilet. The nursing staff do not wander - they move with purpose and speed. The doctors spend their time examining the patients, performing tests, chasing results and formulating plans.

Behind our curtains in our cubicle, I listened to conversations floating in from outside...

"It's the beginning of creation" - from whom I assume was an elderly lady.

"Help! Help! Help! I want to go home!' - from a woman whose family members then soothed her.

"I think we need to get you back on your heart monitor" - from a nurse.

"She's seventeen weeks pregnant and is bearing down" - two nurses painting a miserable picture.

Michael moved in and out of the ED over the long afternoon and evening. He watched nurses on breaks sitting in their cars to take a break. He observed the ramping of patients waiting to be admitted out of ambulances, being cared by the ambulance officers as the ED was packed. He saw patients being moved as beds inside became available. He was my eyes and ears all night.

I would like to thank the Joondalup Emergency Department for their compassionate care and treatment over twenty momentous hours. I can't fault their professionalism, their attention to detail and their devotion to the plan to get me better and get me out of there.

There was also the little touches of humour to cheer up the patients. A nurse wearing bright pink socks. A doctor from the Purple Team dressed entirely in... purple! Every staff member wore a name badge, often  colourful statements to illustrate their individual personalities. Every staff member, regardless of which Team they were officially attached, would chase up patients' needs or questions or fears.

They all defused fear, pain, confusion and anger as if this was second nature. I saw no judgement, no criticism, no dismissal, of any patient or family member. I witnessed defusing of difficult situations, reassurances that patients were receiving the best care possible and always working towards getting patients out of there - either into the hospital or home.

I suspect Northam Hospital ED staff thought I was a time-waster or a drug addict looking for meds. I am waiting to hear for a plausible explanation, having contacted WACHS (Western Australia Country Health Service) and the Health Minister.

Australians are constantly being asked to live and work in the regions. All very well if you are young and fit. Not so great when you are staring down the barrel of age. This situation has to change.

Where will I go when (not if) I have another health crisis? Joondalup Health Campus has my full support..

My recommendation to the Northam ED staff - go and spend a shift at Joondalup ED and take away some strategies for a better environment for both patients and staff. 

 

 

Always good to remember...

 

 

 

 

Acquainting Our Guests With Our Marvellous Mob of Meerkats!

 I believe there are no other towns in the Western Australian Wheatbelt whose Claim To Fame has been "home" to a baby Meerkat, albeit only for three days. I am on a Mission From God to enhance the status of our Mischievous Meerkats, who collectively, are Magnificent Mascots for Heavenly Beverley.

Some years ago now, a couple of bright sparks staying in Beverley, decided to manoeuvre a mini-Meerkat out of its enclosure, away from its Mummy and into a backpack. To minimise its plaintive protests, whilst visiting a fast-food joint, our intellectual giants hit upon playing very loud music (?) to mask its miserable moaning.

Having motored the mesmerising Meerkat into Beverley,  they soon realised that their knowledge of Meerkats was minuscule. Meanwhile, the Perth Zoo was in a monumental miasma of panic, as our aforementioned meerkat was meant to be the star of a promotional extravaganza the following morning...

Back in Heavenly Beverley, our local coppers sniffed a rat - actually a Meeerkat. The heroic geniuses had spread photos of the Meerkat all over Social Media. Our coppers informed the Kensington coppers, who were manifestly In Charge and moved miraculously in their mission to free the Meerkat baby.

The meerkat was returned to Mummy and all was well once more. The gormless captors were fined, given a suspended sentence and told not to be so idiotic ever again. And that was the end of that...

Momentarily, I had begun musing on a memorable mission to maintain the remarkable status of a Baby Meerkat in Heavenly Beverley. At the same time Bunnings Warehouse, that monster monolith to hardware, began flogging metal Meerkats.  How on earth was I supposed to resist?

Mervyn and Mavis were my first minimalist Meerkats. I then added Huey, Dewey and Louis (my threesome of mischief). Mummy and Muriel were marked as next, followed by Michael Meerkat, who sits upon a magic mushroom. Millie Meerkat sits on our boombox. Finally, the Italian artist Meerkat has been renamed as Michelangelo, to continue my love of alliteration.

Now happily ensconced in the East End Gallery, our Merry Meerkat Mob will provide more than a moment of amusement. They are mindful of their role as Mighty Mascots of Heavenly Beverley. Best of all, they need neither sustenance nor water nor mobility.  

So what are you all waiting for? Motor in the direction of Heavenly Beverley to meet our Meerkat Mob at the East End Gallery!

Mervyn...

 

 

 

Mavis...

 

 

 

Huey, Dewey and Louis...

 

 Mummy and Muriel...

 

 

 

Micheal...

 

 

Millie...

 

Michelangelo!
 

 

 

 

 

When My Search For Answers Took A Different Tangent!

I haven't posted for nearly two weeks. Not because I didn't have much to report - that situation would be highly unusual - but I was waiting (again) for another procedure to unravel the mysteries of my prolonged breathlessness. I couldn't find the flippant or carefree words for any other aspects of our lives, which I generally embrace. 

I was becoming disillusioned with my cardiologist, the excellent Jenny Deague. To her, I owe a most heartfelt (!) apology. And to Scott Claxton, for his recommendation of Jenny as a cardiologist. I thought he might have lost his mind, but I was proven very wrong. 

The catalyst for my complete somersault in attitude was cardiac surgeon, Cara Barnes. After my stint at Joondalup Hospital, Jenny referred me to Cara as she was unsure if the Atrial Septal Defect (ASD) was the cause of all my symptoms. Much to my surprise, Cara rang me immediately and organised an appointment for last week. 

We duly attended, still convinced the ASD was the problem. Cara completely disarmed my bolshiness almost straightaway. She explained that Jenny Deague's approach was akin to a dog with a bone, pursuing a challenge until she'd solved the underlying issue. That validation of Jenny was exactly what I needed to hear. 

Cara was swift in her analysis. She proposed to perform a right heart cardiac catherisation for those much desired pressure measurements inside my heart as well as the shunting of the ASD. This was a test that had been previously mentioned, but I had been reluctant as I believed the entry would be through my groin or neck.

Not so. Cara would use my upper arm. She also advocated repeating a coronary angiogram to check the health of my heart's blood vessels which would have an entry of my wrist. And so yesterday, we returned to the Mount Hospital early in the morning to undergo this momentous procedure.

We actually drove to the Big Smoke on Sunday to attend Violet's wonderful second birthday party. This was followed by an overnighter at the Windsor Lodge in Como (we were pleasantly surprised) and an Italian dinner which gave us both indigestion! Along with an unfamiliar bed and without our pillows, a restless night was the result.

So we were both tired and anxious. Our re-introduction to the Mount Hospital was not particularly auspicious. The entire place resembled a building site, the temporary admissions area was rocked by drilling noises and navigation around the premises was rather tricky. In spite of all this, the admissions clerk was cheerful, informative and efficient. 

Once we found the Same Day Unit (!), we were both reassured by their level of care. We would particularly like to thank Clareece and Sonya, but all the nurses were attentive and empathetic. Being increasingly nervous, I became very cold and the heated cotton blankets were a godsend. Michael received a ham and cheese toastie, biccies and drinkable coffee whilst we were waiting. Cara came onto the unit at about nine-thirty, explained the entire procedure and soon afterwards we were off.

Into the cardiac catheter lab. Cara offered me a small amount of sedation, which she explained would feel like I'd drunk a glass of wine and was exceeding useful for frightened eighty-five year old patients! I gratefully accepted. She used ultrasound to find a vein in my upper arm and then guided the catheter wire into my heart. This was somewhat surreal but she talked to me right through the process. A second glass of wine (!) was added to my cannula to complete the investigation of my coronary arteries, again using the wires. At no time did I feel too breathless or panicky and I remained alert, if a trifle relaxed. 

She delivered the verdict a short time later. I had also enjoyed a toastie, some yoghurt and a cup of tea. What she explained was a bit of a bombshell. My ASD turned out to be a total non-event. What was actually going on was high blood pressure within the left side of my heart. Double in the left atrium and up to triple the normal readings in my left ventricle. In turn, this was causing Pulmonary Hypertension, breathlessness, fatigue, exercise intolerance and swelling. I'd completely forgotten that Scott Claxton had previously suggested I might have a "stiff" left heart. Finally, we had unmasked the actual source of all my issues.

We had to remain in the Same Day Unit until the air was slowly removed from the clear plastic band/tourniquet around my right wrist to ensure that the artery wouldn't spring a leak. As I had been given blood thinners, the cannula in my left hand did impressively unleash a finite mini-flood before pressure put the brakes on that minor inconvenience.

The excellent news is that I can't carry out any strenuous activity or lift any items over two kilograms for the next five days. Michael is in for a rude shock!

I can't thank Cara Barnes and the staff of the Same Day Unit enough. They expertly handled me, reducing my mountain of anxiety and mistrust into a far more manageable molehill. I still have a reasonably serious health condition and my drug regime has increased. However, I firmly believe that with the help of my specialists and GP, I am going to feel better, improve my fitness and lose some of this bloody weight. That is like being given a precious life buoy. 

I also have a goal. My beloved, if somewhat eccentric brother Simon, is arriving on 10 May and we are travelling on a four day jaunt to the Porongurups. If Simon decides he would like to hike up the nearby Bluff Knoll (our tallest southern mountain), I intend to travel at least some of the distance with him...

And I don't need a Bex, a cup of tea or a good lie-down either! 

 

  

Again...

  

 Cara Barnes...

  

 Jenny Deague...

  

Dog with a bone! 

  

Scott Claxton... 

  

 Not quiet finished yet...

 

How I felt...

 

 

What Cara organised to give me...

 

 

 

 Which felt like this... 

 

 

So she could do this...

 

 

 

 

 To sort out what was causing this...

 

 

 

Which was...finally...shown to be definitely this! 

 

 

So I don't need this...pfft!

 

 

But I'd like to be fit enough to do a bit of this...

 

 

With this bloke in May!