Adventures of a Computer Luddite

Before I start this post, let's get something straight. I am not a Luddite of the original meaning. I am not a nineteenth century textile artisan, nor do I smash or destroy machines. I'd probably hurt myself if I tried...

I am a computer Luddite in the contemporary sense. The main reason I persevere to become computer savvy is because I intend to blow the minds of my grandchildren when I reveal I am older than the Internet.

I was most distrustful of the new technology that reduced computers from the size of an entire room to a device that could sit on my desk. I was very unsure of actually owning one and trying to drive it.

I recall my first home computer in 1997. It was a boxy, unwieldy, dust gathering contraption that sat squat and self satisfied in my study. It took great delight in mysteriously deleting my agonisingly slow attempts to produce a document. Its screen would freeze at inopportune moments and resist my pathetic attempts to revive it. I became an expert at pressing The Button.

Its start up machinations produced interesting noises that I later discovered were entirely for the benefit of the dumb human operator. I regarded the computer with a mixture of frustration and wonder. When I could make it work, I was in love with it. When it inexplicably sent a document somewhere into cyberspace or shut down without warning or refused to upload a stupid piece of clip art from Microsoft Works, I would stomp out of my study and resist interacting with the smug example of advanced technology until my feelings of inadequacy had reduced somewhat.

I gradually became more proficient in using my computer. I graduated from complete dummy to Slightly Better. The more I played with the computer, the more my shaky confidence increased. I discovered I could actually make the bloody thing work. Sometimes. It even became my best buddy as I undertook my year of study. We still had a love/ hate relationship, but my growing understanding and knowledge made me more comfortable with The Thing.

In 2007, I received my first laptop, courtesy of the Sicilian Philanderer. I hesitated using it for months, worried that I would revert back to Complete Ignoramus. Surprisingly, I did not self destruct, Neither did my laptop. And I loved Microsoft XP. I hung onto XP as long as my laptop survived, such was my devotion.

Wine is not a computer's friend, particularly when poured over the keyboard. This was my lesson in 2013. I somehow salvaged my laptop but had to hook up an additional keyboard. If I used the laptop keyboard, it would start typing 44444444s or bbbbbbbbbs or other numbers or letters. Stopping this maniacal repetition became an ongoing hassle. Then it started typing random letters or numbers with no provocation, just to annoy me.

I bought my new laptop in April this year. I am now besotted with Windows 7. I had played with Michael's version prior to getting my own. Hence I was more familiar with the system. But don't get me wrong. There are times I still have to walk away in sheer frustration, such is my longing to headbutt the screen.

As for the Internet....our saviour? Or our nemesis? Probably both. This week I have had another lesson in the inconvenience and the insanity of conducting business online. I had booked a lightening trip to Queensland for my Dad's 90th birthday in a couple of weeks. All through Webjet. With Michael's latest hospitalisation, the trip became untenable.

When I pulled my finger out and actually started the cancelling process, it turned into a major hair pulling, eyes rolling, teeth gnashing hell, which took several hours to complete.

First off - cancel the flights. No problem I think. Have travel insurance. Flights will only give credit. Fair enough. Have to activate travel insurance to get refund. Travel insurance asks why I'm cancelling. Explain about Michael's hospitalisation. Now we have to get a letter from Michael's doctor, Scott Claxton saying Michael didn't deliberately intend going into hospital on 10th November. They'll consider my claim when they get Scott's letter and the claim form. Give me strength.

Next - cancel car hire. As I didn't cancel within 48 hours of booking, I lose 20% in fees. Explain with my tongue firmly in my cheek that Michael only became unwell 7 days after booking.Doesn't get me anywhere. And I will wait up to 10 business days to get the rest of the refund into my credit card. I won't hold my breath.

Finally - try to transfer my accommodation into my brother David's name. He has had a bit of a rough time lately. At 62, he has chronic leukemia and is supposed to avoid stress. Recently lost his job. Great for his stress. Has a mortgage. Also great for his stress. So, I decided that I could give him and his wife Kerin a bit of pampering as they are going to Dad's birthday. Rang Webjet through whom I'd booked the accommodation. They told me to ring accommodation direct. Accommodation told me to ring Orbitz, who actually organised the booking. Accommodation rang me back to give me Orbitz's contact number. Orbitz put me through to Webjet customer service in...wait for it...the US. Webjet in the US told me to ring Webjet in Australia ...again. Feeling a tad disagreeable by this time, I explained my tale of woe. Webjet operative had to check. Rang me back. After numerous phone calls, my three days of accommodation were finally transferred to David's name. Oh, made another phone call to accommodation just to check...

All sorted. Except the process took every bit of my patience and tact, And could not be completed online!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am a computer Luddite.

On Friendship

Friendship reminds me of the ocean. It ebbs and flows, according to the moon and the tides. It can be calm and relaxed and enticing. Or it can rip our feet out from underneath us or worse, dump us unceremoniously upside down, until we're gasping for breath and wondering what the hell happened.

I have to admit that I am anxious and sensitive about friendship.As a lonely and awkward child, I spent a lot of time in my own company. Friendships could be  fleeting, fragile and fraught with danger. At 12, I lost my best friend, my brother Michael, when he surrendered to the relentless grasp of drug abuse, I think that's why I married so young. I yearned for a friend.

Needless to say, marriage wasn't enough to sustain me. I made friends tentatively and seemed to lose them to distance or the drift that often happens in relationships My then husband didn't help. He was jealous of all other influences in my life, including our children.

Then miraculously, as I grew older (and hopefully a bit wiser), true friendships became easier to find and establish and grow. This accelerated with the end of my marriage. My house was filled with laughter and noise and love and belonging. Everything I'd always wanted.

I began concentrating on giving friends space. I practised letting any perceived barbs wash over me and then back and away. I remember a hilarious episode; a close girlfriend coming to my door, apologising wholeheartedly for her behaviour about three months previously. My response was -"that's OK. I just thought you were having a bad day!"

And I am very lucky that the light of my life, Michael, is my husband, lover and best friend. And I have maintained other close friendships over time and distance. They are the Beverley Blossoms, the Lush sisters and the Bolshy Divas. As well as making new, eclectic interesting friendships now in Heavenly Beverley.

Which is why losing a friendship, now,  has come as a terrible shock. The speed and intensity of  this relationship's disintegration has confounded us both. Because Michael shared the friendship with me. We thought we knew our friend, but apparently we didn't. An unexpected spat escalated into open warfare. And this happened on my watch, under our roof.

I have been devastated, particularly by the aftermath. I have had to choose the many over the one. Because this breakdown didn't just affect me. A whole group has been left burnt by the fallout. So what could I do? Support the one (who alienated the others) or support the rest of us left damaged and wounded. I have tried to do both since the episode of disaster that triggered the end.

And of course, I can't be successful. The one is defiant, absorbed and resistant to any suggestion that doesn't agree with her comprehension. She is like an injured beast who stepped into a maelstrom of her own creation and is now out for recompense. Which I can't support. So the friendship is currently and completely lost.

Can this relationship be repaired? Anything is possible. Time will tell. And even is that does happen, I will be wary. Once bitten, twice shy.

And in the meantime, I have my other friendships to sustain me, to support me, that carry on, both in spite of and because of, the chaos of this breakdown. And I have Michael, who has just found me, in the patient lounge of the hospital, and enveloped me with a loving embrace that has renewed my optimism for us, for my other friendships and for our lives.

Best of all, we're going home to the House that Rocks in Heavenly Beverley!

Friendships - November 2014.

Another Round with The Bitch.

She's always there, lurking in the shadows, whispering in Michael's ear. She waits for any opportunity to reassert herself, jostling for position, ready to pounce. And cause havoc to Michael's fragile health.

He's had a very energetic and very stressful few months. Renovating the Forbes Building is like being in Ginger Megg's billycart. It's the ride of his life, often making decisions quickly or taking a punt that a restoration idea will work. Which causes his anxiety to skyrocket.

And he's creating miracles with our meagre financial resources. Gary is assisting him for two reasons. As an old friend, he knows Michael's brain and is reasonably innovative in his own right. And we can't afford to pay much.

Gary smokes like a chimney, in the building, out of the building, leaving the lethal trail lingering around Michael's nostrils. Michael, a 40 year smoker, finds this very difficult, but hates rocking the boat. At present, he can't risk losing his offsider.

Michael is on a cocktail of drugs, all of them having side effects. He was having hot flushes and persistent tachycardia, which we eventually traced to his anxiety meds. A beta blocker fixed the pulse, but reducing the anxiety meds was a disaster. As his anxiety rose, he began pinching fags from Gary. And sucking in any second hand smoke. And then the ultimate lunacy - he bought the first packet of cigarettes. Which the local IGA was happy to sell him.

He was trying to limit himself and failing miserably. The wheezing started, so we added twice daily ventolin to his regime. Then four hourly. then more frequently, particularly at night.

In the leadup to the Beverley Blossoms weekend, he was coughing at night as well. His oxygen sats were dropping, not a lot, but cause for concern. He was cutting down his work effort at the shops, because he was becoming shattered. The girls' break was actually a blessing because he was home more than away and I could monitor him.

The last night at home was awful. He was starting to cough up stuff out of his infected chest. I woke at five and decided to get up, water and clean up more of the chaos still left from the weekend. I rang Scott Claxton's rooms at eight, then again just after nine. And unbelievably, his staff found an appointment for us.

I woke Michael and flew around like a whirling dervish, packing, organising, leaving keys with our neighbours, emptying the stinking scraps bucket for next door's chooks, placating the dogs. I was pretty sure Michael would be admitted, so we needed to bring enough gear for the duration.

We arrived at Scott's rooms at 1pm. He examined Michael and we talked about our options. A chest infection, probably bronchitis, was exacerbating his emphysema. Oral or IV antibiotics? Given his previous history, we chose the latter. Michael was admitted at 3pm last Monday.

We felt a bit like frauds the first night. Michael's symptoms lessened and we wondered if we could go home after all. But the Bitch was just warming up. The next three nights were action packed, filled with breathlessness, sweating and panic (from both of us). He could breathe in, but he couldn't breathe out. He sounded like a freight train. Oxygen and saline nebulisers were started. Then salbutamol (ventolin) nebs. Scott was musing about the possibility that Michael had asthma on top of the bronchitis and emphysema. Prednisone and a Symbicort turbohaler were added to the mix.

And we moved wards, back to H4, the dedicated acute medical ward we'd been in April. The staff knew Michael, knew me, knew his health status. Suddenly I felt like I could actually go to sleep because I had additional support. And Michael stopped getting worse.

We've been here almost a week. He is exhausted, but better. The wheezing has stopped, the coughing reduced dramatically and the breathlessness much improved, thanks to the nebs. He sleeps after breakfast, to give him any extra boost to get through the rest of the day. Now he's getting bored as well. Thankfully, with his computer, he is researching our next Goldfields trip, which helps pass the time and keeps his brain occupied.

Scott and his team have been superb as ever. We have landed on our feet to have Scott Claxton as Michael's specialist. And there are new kids on the block with him - feisty, go get them Kate, quiet, reassuring, pregnant Megan and softly spoken Brittany (as least I think that's her name). Yesterday, they didn't come in for the first time. As it was Saturday, I think they'd all earned a break.

Scott wanted Michael upright as soon as possible, to help clear his lungs. So on Thursday, I drove him down to Lake Joondalup, so we could go for a short stroll. It was a cool, breezy day but Michael's face brightened as we took a path into the banksia and paperbark scrub. Fifteen minutes was about his limit, but it made his day. We took selfies on the jetty.

Vanessa's been to see him and has roared up to Beverley to save the day, the dogs and the garden. The cat is studiously avoiding Vanessa, much to her amusement. Ruby will regain her good humour when her lover returns from hospital.

Callum and Bron have been twice and Alex announced his presence in his inimitable style and introduced Pasquale, his support worker, a lovely bloke from Mauritius. Michael's mum, dad, his sister Sandra and his brother Darryl all came en mass. And Judy couldn't resist. She argued with Scott about her belief that evaporative air conditioners cause bronchitis. Michael was quietly smug. I'll apologise to Scott when we see him next.

Tracey, my oldest friend from Marangaroo days, came in on Friday evening, kicked off her shoes, ate chocolate and icecream and curled up on my one person sofa bed. We had a riot of non stop talking and laughter with her for a couple of hours. I only threw her out because I was dead on my feet.

Sian and Bruce will be in this morning. We haven't caught up for a while, so really looking forward to seeing them. She has been my friend for over twenty years and we just seem to be able to pick up from where we left off. And arrange to have them up to the House that Rocks. Friends like that are priceless.

I'm starting to think about discharge. Michael knows he can't smoke. But he knew that in April as well. As memories fade, the Bitch will attempt to return, like Voldemort. I asked Scott what I could do to try and keep Michael on the straight and narrow. His response - "keep a copy of his original CT to show him". And I'll need to remind him of the fear we both experienced during those very long, very scary three nights. And reminisce  about swabs in embarrassing places! Hopefully, all of those memories will do the trick. This time.

At Lake Joondalup 13 November 2014.

A Well Deserved Break for some Beverley Blossoms

I have a very eclectic group of friends, some of whom are caring for family members who have disabilities or chronic illness. One of my newer friends is "lucky enough" to have a disability herself, on top of providing support for a couple of her children.

Being a carer can be utterly exhausting. There are times that are pretty cruisy and then several crises will descend on us, usually all at once. I liken it to putting out spot fires; I resolve one issue and then another and another and another. And so on.

Most of these women I have known for ten or fifteen years. We have laughed and cried and shared together. A lifeline for us all has been taking a break a couple of times a year. We really don't need to be trained or educated or counselled. Most of us have had a gutfull of that. What we need is to recharge our batteries, rejuvenate body and soul and relax together in an emotionally safe place.

As for me, I've had a rollercoaster of a year. Michael's illness and recovery dominated several months. In addition to my care of him and our children, I had gone into battle with the Australian Health Professional Regulation Agency and the insurance company for the WA Education Department. The matter with the Education Department has been finalised. The other is still ongoing after seven months.

Due to a familiar respite option becoming unavailable, we took the bit between our teeth to create our own break. Slowly, the Beverley Blossoms were born. Brenda and I e-mailed, phoned and met to plan for a weekend in Beverley. The number of women had to be limited because of pressures of sleeping and toilet facilities. We could only invite non smokers due to Michael's ongoing respiratory issues. We wanted to have women who knew each other and would be comfortable with each other without any angst.

I organised a visit from a representative of  MIFWA (Mental Illness fellowship of WA) for an interactive session, a close friend providing massage, a new friend giving us laying on of hands, two morning teas at the Red Vault Cafe and dinner at the Freemasons Tavern. We traipsed through the renovations at the shops and dropped into the East End Studio, Secrets, Stickybeaks and Lucky Find, all businesses on our main street in Heavenly Beverley.

And we talked and hugged and cried and laughed and played. We ate and drank all weekend. Bed arrangements were chaotic and hilarious. Two gazebos in the back yard, all well as our study and guest room were all filled at night. The toilet received some first aid on Saturday and performed admirably for the rest of the weekend.

Sunday was very hot, so massage tables were hastily moved into our air conditioned house. With nine extra bodies, the House that Rocks was jammed to the gunnels. Tolerance and good humour were essential for the success of the day. We were all happy to oblige.

Michael became an honorary lady for the weekend. Denese, masseur extraordinaire, had to bring her seven year old energetic dynamo, Caleb, on Sunday. He was cheerful and well behaved and enjoyed morning tea at the cafe along with the rest of us.

The Three Stooges were reunited with old friends and made new ones, all of whom showered them with cuddles and attention. The cat left in a huff and retired to Somewhere Else for the duration of the weekend. She returned on Sunday evening in a dignified and disapproving manner.

We all had a blast. The weekend had the potential to go pear shaped if  the Blossoms had not jelled so well. But we did. And we reinvigorated a long standing mantra that added to the break's success - make no judgements, make no comparisons, delete the need for understanding.

Roll on the next Beverley Blossoms Break.

Sunday Morning Tea @ the Red Vault Cafe, Heavenly Beverley.

9 November 2014