Heavenly Beverley : A Three-Ring Circus Day

After a very busy weekend in the Gallery, we were looking forward to a well-earned rest. Somehow, Monday and Tuesday vanished rapidly into the ether. I had a wonderfully satisfying play in our courtyards on Monday. Our "garden", although compact and mostly confined to pots, still commands my attention and I happily disappear amongst the greenery if at all possible.

Washing took up a fair whack of time and housework was a fairly haphazard affair later on Tuesday. Madame Cat was also giving us cause for concern. Unhappily and repeatedly scratching away at the ground, she was squatting with little or no production of piddle. As we were travelling to Northam the following day to have Goldie the Accent serviced, we decided that the cat appeared to need some servicing as well. We rang the vet and secured an appointment for the Fickle Fairweather Feline.

Wednesday was always going to masquerade as Pandemonium. The car's service was booked for eight o'clock and I continually reminded Michael to have an Early Night, as we needed to leave Heavenly Beverley just after seven. In the morning.

Needless to say, being woken at six in the early gloomy pre-dawn was not to Michael's taste. His first words were a startled "You've got to be kidding me!". He reluctantly left the comfort of our bed and unsteadily prepared to Face The Day.

We left after a frantic flurry of activity. The Cat, secured in her cage, was neither impressed nor amused and let us know her views on the matter all the way to Northam. The atmosphere was stormy both inside the car and on the outside. We drove between two major thundercloud masses, watching the lightning and occasionally a smattering of rain. The heavens really opened as we arrived to drop off the car. Beautiful timing. Only Madame remained relatively dry.

Into the very clean loan car (not for long) and off to the vet around the corner. Ingrid on duty was most sympathetic. She promised to keep the dollars from rolling out the door if at all possible. She took Her Majesty away for monitoring and a wee sample. Breakfast at Lucy's, rather than at Tiffany's. Delicious and filling. Great value as ever. We drove on for a gargantuan shopping expedition at the local Woolies. Michael pleaded to be excused, so I attacked the horrors of the supermarket on my lonesome ownsome.

With ten minutes to go before our next rendezvous at the doctor's surgery, I rang Michael, Seeking Urgent Assistance at the checkout. Telstra, in its capacity as Worst Telecommunications Provider in the known universe, was true to form. In Northam town centre, our phones dropping out due to a lack of signal was very trying indeed. Eventually, Michael worked out the situation with no help from Telstra whatsoever and came to my rescue.

Throwing the shopping into the loaner car (helpfully inscribed with LOANER CAR on the sides), we dashed another couple of hundred metres to the quacks. Fortunately, Stephanie was running a tad behind schedule as well, so we heaved a sigh of relief and sat down to wait our turn.

We continue to thank our lucky stars that we have Stephanie as our General Practitioner. A rural doctor living in Northam, she is practical, pragmatic, witty and very caring of us. She wrote prescriptions, a referral to the delicious Doctor Daram to cut my leg off in a couple of weeks, checked my boobs and organised blood tests and a doppler for Michael. As a Complex Medical Case, Michael was being checked for the progress of his diabetes and to make sure the plumbing in his legs was still working efficiently.

Following Michael's stabbing by the friendly phlebotomist, we dropped into Artists' Revolution, the groovy and very laidback premises of Pat Rose. Tom, her partner in crime and another unique art identity was there as well. Their latest exhibition was featuring the work of Paul Marres, entitled "The Spirits of the Trees". Paul takes branches and logs scarred by fire, termites and people and turns them into remarkable pieces of sculpture. We were enthralled.

After a very pleasant half hour or so, we stopped to make Michael's appointment at the Ultrasound Unit for the doppler on both his legs. At this point, we were reminded of the insanity of bureaucracy once more. We were unable to schedule a doppler both of his legs together. Some bright spark in the Health Department had decreed that we would be charged if we requested the doppler of his two legs at the same time. Which meant two one hundred and forty kilometre round trips for two appointments. At that moment, I felt far less like the Ringmaster and much more the hapless clown.

We returned to collect Goldie. The service fee was not as terrifying as I'd thought. Then to the vet. Ruby the Cat was subdued in her cage. The diagnosis was Feline Ideopathic Cystitis. She had a urine "infection" without the presence of bacteria. Ye Gods. Now I'd heard everything.

Ingrid suggested we reinstall a litter tray inside away from the prying noses of the Canine Clowns to reduce her elderly stress levels. The major triumph was the introduction of effective pain relief for four days. Madame Cat is delighted with her personal inside toilet, which is safely barricaded in our bathroom. Plus, the medication has turned her into the most agreeable and smoochy feline. She is also eating and drinking, which is another great sign of her return to health.

The Bill was another matter. Pip needed medication as well, so the Final Total was a Mastercard job. We are trying very hard not to use credit unless we have no other choice. We had no other choice.

The results of Michael's tests are in. His lower circulation is working very well indeed. Unfortunately, he is still diabetic after five months of concerted lifestyle changes. However, he has yet to require any medication, a route we are hoping to avoid.

This coming week is looking quieter. We are grateful in the extreme. Being middle-aged means changes in our habits. We dislike the cramming of days. We are definitely not the life of the party either. This is our new reality.

Stay tuned for our next exciting adventure.