A Delightful Distraction!

We have just returned from a wonderfully warm and fuzzy mini break in the Big Smoke with Callum, Bronwyn and Miss Imogen Ivy. Ragnar, the psycho Ragdoll cat was also present - the less said about him, the better...

Due to the imminent arrival of Bron's sister, brother-in-law and never-seen nephew, she and Cal will be inundated with the other side of the family for the following five weeks. Hence, Bron thought an invitation to see them over Friday and Saturday nights just gone, would be happily enjoyed by all. 

We rocked into their home just after five on Friday afternoon. Callum had taken carer's leave from school as Immy had come down with a case of hand, foot and mouth disease, which sounded quite hideous but only involved blisters on her hands, feet and more painful ones inside her mouth, along with a touch of fractiousness. The main issue was that this virus is highly contagious and spread by saliva, which toddlers have a habit of sharing with gay abandon. Immy was the fifth child at her daycare to contract it in a week.

Dinner involved a sensational pizza feast from the Old Piccadilly take-away joint in Joondalup. We followed up that gastronomical affair with a movie in Cal and Bron's theatre room, reclining on the rather luxurious lounge with chaise...Oh the pain, the pain, the pain!

Saturday involved much amusement interacting with Immy, who has developed into a most forthright young lady. "No" features frequently in her vocabulary, along with "outside" and "one, two, three". She also says "sorry" if Bron pulls her hair whilst brushing it, "oopsie" and "weeeee...". She loves giving Ragnar treats, helping with her breakfast, watching "Blippi", listening and looking at books, along with her very own rather swish kitchen inside and her swing and slide outside.

Callum attacked the grocery shopping with gusto and then he and I piled into their Barina to face the hoards at Lakeside shopping centre for a spot of mother/son bonding. We chose some birthday clothes for Alex, some winter tee shirts for Imogen, a CD for Michael and a most stylish charcoal dress shirt for Cal to wear to an upcoming family wedding. Although Bron didn't directly receive any surprises, I know what we will obtain for her birthday in May and she was pleased with my choice of clothes for Immy. I also bought some thermal bottoms to keep me warm through Beverley's winter months.

Thinking about cool weather was a joke until today. When we left Beverley on Friday, the temperature was 39 degrees C (102 degrees F), yesterday was very warm and humid, but this morning we woke to a cool change. The thermometer has struggled up to 21 degrees C (69.8 degrees F) and I have hastily added a pair of leggings and a cardigan to my ensemble.

Anyway, I've digressed. Yesterday afternoon was spent in quiet reverie. I took the boys' feet in hand with the foot grinder and soothing cream and then whiled away some time on this blog. Cal took to the kitchen to produce home made burgers with caramelised  onion and bacon, Bron had a snooze, Michael played games and Imogen kept us all entertained.

Dinner was another triumph followed by a new series (to us) via one of Cal's streaming services. We retired to bed and slept quite well, particular as the night saw the end of the recent heat and humidity. Just after nine in the morning, we headed for home.

In spite of the roadworks and the cool and drizzly day, we have enjoyed being back in the Gallery. The Divine Mizz Jan George took excellent care of the Gallery yesterday and Paula reinforced her position as our reliable and loving petsitter.

All in all, a relaxing and family oriented short getaway. And I have had enough of a Nanny fix to last me until we can see these very special and beloved people again.

Stay tuned; until next time.

Reading with Nanny...

Swing time!

Grampy, Daddy and Miss Unicorn...

Higher, Mummy, higher!

Miss Serious...

Just woken up with Gerry Giraffe...

Breakfast time!

With Ragnar and Daddy...

Big smiles...

Royal wave!

Oh, The Pain...The Pain...The Pain...(And The Irony!)

Who remembers the fabulous, original television series "Lost in Space", which premiered in 1965 and ran for three years. We were in awe of John Robinson, Father-of-the-Year and unflappable leader, resigned to Maureen Robinson's motherly attentions, adoring of that hothead pilot Don West, bemused by Judy Robinson's inclusion, amused by Penny Robinson and both irritated and amazed at boy genius Will Robinson. The final two regulars were the Robot (warning, warning, danger, danger!) and the dastardly Doctor Zachary Smith, who delighted in insulting the Robot (you bubble-headed booby!), planning the demise of the Robinson family whilst saving his own skin or whimpering in mental or physical imagined discomfort (the pain, the pain, the pain!). In my case, the mental anguish caused by Telstra's inept staff and terrible service has driven me to the edge of the theoretical cliff and would be enough to try the patience of a saint. Doctor Smith would be cringing in a corner...

Here is another update on the latest epic fail of Telstra. Yesterday morning, I was rung by a chap from Telstra in Melbourne to apologise repeatedly and profoundly (again) for their lack of attention and woeful communication. I would identify him if he had spoken slowly enough for me to hear his name. Which he didn't. He was effusive in his apologetic monologue - I could barely break into the one-sided conversation. Then came the most wondrous of circumstances...my phone dropped out without any warning. After several tries, much to his consternation, we re-established communication and I informed him that this was par for the course in Beverley at present.

Further to our Man from Melbourne has been continuing useless assistance through Messenger from - Elms, Dan, Austin, Winona, Febey (!), Angela and Michelle. The latest suggestion was to download the Telstra app, so I could contact the billing team and ask for a credit due to the "hardware fault" that has been severely restricting our telecommunications. I followed the steps, which involved asking for a code to be sent to my phone to proceed with the app's installation. As we are currently staying in the Perth metro area, surely my phone would receive the code from Telstra. Think again...

The last advice from Michelle was that I ring the billing team direct on 132 200. She is obviously assuming I will be able to access a signal!

I can feel another message being formulated to Mister Andrew Penn, the CEO of Telstra in the very near future. 

The Robinsons, Doctor Smith, Don West and the Robot from "Lost in Space"

The pilot,,,

The sisters...

The Robot and Will...

Doctor Smith...

Our Man from Melbourne...

Call Centre cacophony...

Telstra's CEO.

Just Keep Swimming...

I am delighted to report that my warped sense of humour has returned. God knows how much I require that attribute at present. 

There has been an encouraging development of late, revolving around the supply of Rapid Antigen Tests.  We have gone from having a total lack of RATs to a decided avalanche of RATs. After I discovered that the initial five RATs had been pre-ordered, due to the RAT Division of the Health Department setting up a confusing and complicated system, I was able to receive the first of our tests through a Northam pharmacy. Then, I have been able to obtain more through the State Health Department. I have been able to catch up our other RATs from the local Beverley pharmacy, following the resolution of the initial hurdle. And apparently, we will receiving (wait, there's...) more (!) RATs from the State shortly. I will have RATs coming out of my ears. 

Last Thursday, we sold Digger. This should have been a wonderful event for both the buyers and us. We had received a great many enquiries after we had listed Digger. We held the caravan for a day to allow a chap travelling from Geraldton to view Digger as he and his good lady wife had missed other opportunities to buy a van because of their location. He was delayed another day due to gastro and finally turned up, very apologetic and keen to negotiate. 

We ended up discounting the caravan as he could see the variety of repairs that he could not do himself. An hour after he left, towing Digger, he was back again. Michael was asleep and I had gone to the post office. The caravan hitch (supposedly top of the wozza) had failed and the caravan had stopped dead. Neither Digger nor his vehicle was damaged but he needed a new hitch. For which our buyer was reimbursed. Hence, our finances have not been supplemented to the extent we wished. The good news is that we have paid the rates, the credit card, the loan to Zip Money for my CPAP equipment, some outstanding artist payments and sunk a fair amount back into the housing loan. All I have left to achieve is some annoying paperwork to transfer the ownership of the caravan.

Vincent Street is still a shemozzle. Apparently a couple of workers have contracted COVID. Any physical activity ground to a halt on Friday. We are less than four weeks from the opening of the Easter Art Prize, the Annual Tennis Tournament, our Sundowner, markets and a variety of other tourism offerings. Our heroic Town Planner keeps having nervous breakdowns, as closing the entire street was supposed to expedite matters. Easter marks the beginning of our tourist season and Vincent Street is supposed to be sealed by then, rather than looking like a worse-for-wear suicidal rally track as it currently does.

Then, there has been another saga involving that telecommunication Titanic, Telstra. Honestly, I couldn't make this stuff up... This tale of woe began with poorer than usual mobile coverage (which is pretty hard as we live in the Telstra black hole of the known universe) and intermittent internet access. Multiple residents, including us, began contemplating the need for phone updates. 

My reason for ringing Telstra was entirely unrelated to this issue of hopeless signal. I wanted to sign into my Telstra account, but I had forgotten my password. How unusual... Over five hours later, having spoken to five separate Telstra staff, I actually sorted the problem myself by thinking outside the square. Although I told each and every one of them that my old email address was kaput, they sent to link to reset my password...to the old email address. This lot would have destroyed the patience of a saint.

I took a deep breath, used the old email address as the username of the account and when I was rewarded with a link, I sent the code to my mobile phone, rather than the defunct email address. Voila! My reward was ability to enter my Telstra account once more. 

In the meantime, I'd complained to our local member Mia Davies' office and spoken to the charming Wendy, explaining the trials of both my account debacle and that Michael's phone (a Galaxy S9) had become completely non communicative. I also rang the Telecommunication Ombudsman to complain about Telstra's dreadful performance in trying to get into my account.

Finally, on Friday, with Ms. Davies' office receiving an tsunami of complaints,  a reluctant Telstra announced to the Shire of Beverley that there had been a hardware failure in the "system" and they were waiting for a part. Telstra failed to explain the nature of this breakdown or when the fault would be rectified. Surely, an organisation the size of Telstra would have parts on hand...Tell that one to the Marines.

I have met (again) a kindred spirit in Beverley Station's Artist-in-Residence Ros Newick. She is incredibly talented, with a wicked sense of humour. Thanks to Ros, her her lovely friends who were visiting her came in the Gallery today and bought a variety of gifts. Plus, yesterday's generous guests from Gin Gin bought one of John Ives' fantastic Pilbara prints, as well as a lavender heat pack and some lavender potpourri. All our guests have managed to find their way to the Gallery and delighted us by supporting our artists.

Ros and I are hatching a plan to coincide with "Spring Back To Beverley" on the weekend of 24/25 September. I have just discovered that meerkats can, in fact, spring...

I'm Back!

Just keep swimming...

Michael's Dory...

Not these rats again!

We have a surfeit of RATs!

Goodbye Digger...

The bit that broke...

Dealing with Telstra...

Losing my cool with Telstra...

Can't Telstra employ staff who actually listen...

So, Telstra doesn't cause this...

Leading to this...

Have a look at Telstra's Facebook page...it's a riot!

No further explanation is necessary...

My newest mate Ros...

With whom I am formulating an idea about "springing" meerkats.

Stay tuned!

Oh, I Think I'm Going Out Of My Head, Again!

I am very comfortable with our GP, Stephanie, who we now see once every four weeks with our "list". We always promised ourselves that we would never turn into our parents and discuss medical matters. One of our artists, Arlene Puddy put aging in its place by declaring that we'll never feel old if we don't admit to being old. We wholeheartedly agree with her. The problem is looking in the mirror and realising that our twenty/thirty/forty year old eagerness and zest is no longer mirrored in the appearance and function of our  physical selves. We don't feel middle-aged but our bodies suggest otherwise.

Today we discussed increasing numbness in Michael's feet - ultrasound ordered to ascertain the need to see the vascular specialist or not.

Michael's problematic wrists and hands - new referral  to the Boy Wonder for his right wrist and lower arm.

Setting up a new care plan for a podiatrist to care for Michael's feet.

Checking spots on my face for skin cancer. Fortunately, these were only sun damage.

Referral to the Boy Wonder over increasing pain in my right wrist/arm and an ultrasound for a possible ganglion in my hand.

And finally, a bit of a rant on my part about the challenges of my daily life, much of which currently revolves around the National Disability Insurance Scheme, medical costs and wait times. 

How's this for a great idea? Alex receives around two thousand dollars over three years for transport funding, as he doesn't drive and he does have to catch Ubers and Taxis occasionally as well as using public transport. This funding used to be paid in fortnightly lots into his bank account. Now, some moron has decided that a young man with an intellectual disability, who has difficulties with everyday life, can pay for his transport costs out of his own money, obtain receipts and be reimbursed by the NDIS. Give me a break.

Then there was the EEG that cost $285 on Monday. Alex arrived at his appointment with no warning of the cost. He was totally unprepared as a result. This has convinced me that either me or his Dad will have to attend any further medical tests, so we can assure Alex only pays the gap. That amount is about a third of his fortnightly pension.

Plus, we are now treading water, as far as exploring the extent of Alex's Acquired Brain Injury. We wait. To see the neurologist, hopefully by the end of May. To have an appointment at Neurosciences, which is currently a four month delay. Alex needs these appointments as they can provide information for NDIS reviews. I will be ringing Neurosciences tomorrow.

I have applied for Alex's complete medical record to be sent by the Children's Hospital in Melbourne that documents Alex's two hospital stays in 1992 and 1994. The replying email advised me to ring the FOI (Freedom of Information) department if I don't hear anything back after thirty days. 

We just received notification of Michael's hospital bill, which, thank God, was paid by our health insurance company. This was for him being present on Karri ward for approximately twenty-seven hours. The Mount is old, disheveled and urgently needs renovation. The amount was $12 000. Go figure.

We have also been notified that our one hour per fortnight of household help has been suspended due to the COVID 19 presence in Western Australia. We waited three months for this service and have had four hours over five weeks of assistance. Just as well I am not completely decrepit.

I am keeping the Black Dog at bay. Just. Last night, I didn't sleep well. "Ventura Highway" by the band America triggered a waterfall of memories. The worst was the fifteen year old me being told I had to find alternate homes for my dog, Snoopy and cat, Coco. Forty-five years after that dreadful time, I push the memory away, as I may descend into my well and never emerge. 

My mum, as Shiva,  has been very present in my dreams of late.  My adored dad has been silent. And I miss my daughter. I used to be so proud of her persona as a fabulous young woman. I don't have a clue how I have failed her. She won't talk to me. I just want her to know that I am not whole until she comes backs into my life again.

I hope tomorrow is a better day.

Another Tête-à-Tête With The Black Dog...

The last few days have played havoc with my whirling mind. There is so much for which I should be really grateful, ecstatic even, yet I have noticed my mood tipping in the downward direction. And I haven't liked that slippery slope one little bit.

Having a Man Child such as my beloved Alex has always been tinged with the odd slash of drama, but the immediate past events have just about blown me off kilter. Discovering twenty-six years after his Autism diagnosis that he has had a probable traumatic brain injury, possibly early in his life, has caused me distress and confusion. And now we have to wait...for an EEG (next week), for a neurology appointment (triaged for prior to the end of May) and for a Neurosciences appointment to discover the associated neurological damage (no idea of a date) to confirm or not confirm what has been contained in Alex's rather alarming MRI report.

The war in Ukraine and the suffering of the refugees has also added to my unease. There but for the grace of God go we. What is a life of a Ukrainian worth? A Syrian? An Afghan? An Iraqi? An Iranian? A Hazara? A Georgian? A Chechen? A Tamil? So many wars. So much death and destruction. 

Then there are those of us who may be supported (or not) by the NDIS, Centrelink or Veterans Affairs. How disabled or ill does one have to be before somebody else decides that life costs too much? We have made huge advances in medical science, so that those who may not have survived thirty years ago are now surviving. Christopher died with a right-sided heart lesion. Alex has lived with a similar right-sided heart lesion. Now that we have achieved those medical successes, we have to give us all the best quality of life as possible. To do otherwise is to play God, which is precisely what is happening in the war zones around the world.

Plus COVID. We comfort ourselves that the majority of people who have died were elderly and had other co-morbid conditions.  Did those thoughts help anybody through their own COVID death? Or did those thoughts ease the emotional burden of those left behind? 

So, that has been the context of my thoughts and feelings recently. I shouldn't wonder that the Black Dog has come sniffing. As I explained to my doctor, my triggers that lead to the darkness are never apparent until they are upon me. Then begins the fight to return to equilibrium.

Today, I have concentrated really hard on success. One of Michael's sculptures sold to a very generous  couple over the weekend. They have also ordered a second piece. That meant I could pay outstanding bills that had been put on hold. I can take the cats to the vet for their vaccinations. I can think about birthday gifts for Callum, Alex and Bronwyn. I can pay John and Nicolette the five dollars I owe them from a long-ago morning tea.

And we had an absolutely wonderful Sundowner on Saturday night. The crowd was small and intimate on the pavement. Everybody was able to talk and listen. The vino flowed. Lawrence played music. We had enough sausages left over to make one of Michael's favourite dishes Sausage Sensation (an Ian Parmenter recipe) for dinner last night with Jan and Greg as our guests.

These are my small personal victories I've achieved to enable me to blow raspberries at the Black Dog. I've told him to bugger off again. There is no doubt that he will try to return, which means I must be on my guard.  I still have to deal with all the external chaos. However, my cocoon of safety, of Michael's love, of my family and friends serve to protect me.

How lucky am I.

What I've been on...

Alex with his beautiful niece, Miss Imogen Ivy, December 2019...

Absolutely true...

What we all want...

Who lives and who dies?

So, the Black Dog returned...

I retaliated like this...

With a little help from my friends...

And my family...

Shopping bag - check...brontosaurus - check...

Bron and Miss Immy...

God...

Dog...

Fake cat?

Real dog!