The last couple of weeks have been challenging, to say the least.
And that doesn't even include the comings and goings in the East End Gallery. We have had yet another reshuffle of works with paintings being swapped over, refreshing the main Gallery. We are forever blessed by Shane Moad, Sharon Williams and John Kaye. Or added - heartfelt thanks to Marion Luck - artist extraordinaire at the Western end of Vincent Street.
We have lost the wonderful textiles of Jo Nelson, as she has decided, before she becomes too decrepit, that she is going to hit the road for the Big Lap. With her textiles in tow to flog along the way. David Lillico, one of our glass artists routinely "borrows" his pieces once a year for the Darling Scarp Art and Craft Show. He then returns whatever is left and begins to produce his creations all over again!
I spent days and days (and a number of evenings) revamping the space for that additional zing. Michael, with John Kaye's help successfully navigated the ladder yesterday to hang Marion's paintings. No reports and no injuries.
At the moment, Michael and I are really a pair of crocks. My dodgy right knee is becoming dodgier by the day. I have resorted to the Big Guns of pain relief, which work well, except they cause restlessness at night and sleepiness during the day. I almost nodded off and dropped my phone, whilst being ripped, tinted, coloured and shorn by the fabulous Kerryanne yesterday morning.
Michael is waiting for his second hip replacement which is scheduled for next Wednesday. Now that he has a fabulous new right hip, he has recognised the discomfort of his left one. Plus, he has been diagnosed with very low iron, which caused extreme fatigue and lack of any enjoyment. He is finally feeling better, with the assistance of an iron infusion.
Three nights ago, at the astonishing hour of a quarter to ten, I underwent a MRI at the Midland public hospital. Apparently, quite a few radiology clinics are working into the evenings to reduce the waiting time for patients. I was done and dusted and back to the Travellers' Rest units where we spent overnight, rather than trying to drive home at eleven o'clock. Stella demanded a wee break at five in the morning, and I discovered, to my consternation, that dawn occurs around this time. The dogs performed their ablutions and I returned to our temporary boudoir to sleep soundly until nine thirty. After imitating the opening scenes of "Home Alone", when the families alarm didn't go off and they left without Kevin, we departed just after ten...
My latest communique with Telstra was via a pleasant chap, also named Kevin, who is one of only two technicians in Western Australia (!) charged with surveying mobile and internet conductivity in a particular location. Sick of the spin sprouted by the upper echelons of Telstra, I explained that I was a grumpy sixty one year old woman with a sizable chip on my shoulder where Telstra was concerned. He was a pleasant chap, acknowledged my grievances without immediately defending the mighty company and was fully aware of some of Beverley's communications issues. He is coming for a tete-a-tete on Monday morning to Review our Situation. Whether he can actually change our service for the better is a far more complicated narrative.
On Wednesday morning, I took the call from the Pre-admissions nurse as part of preparations for Michael's next surgery. Reciting his meds, operations, conditions, allergies and demeanour for the umpteenth time set my teeth on edge, particularly as this information was freely available through his notes and the letter I'd sent to the Director of Nursing. That we will, no doubt, have to go through this process next Wednesday morning would try the patience of a saint. And I am no saint. During the first half of our conversation, I must admit that I was a tad surly and she accused me of being "rude and irate". Following this accusation, I took a deep breath, apologised and explained all the back story (again) that caused me to become "rude and irate". To her credit, the nurse listened to my litany of previous complaints and we both softened our tones. At the end of proceedings, she was aware of our past situations, I was the full bottle on pre-admission protocols including using body wash, lung exercises and selectively ceasing some meds (which was a vast improvement on no pre-admission information) and we parted amicably. Roll on Wednesday...
The weather continues to be bleak and blustery. We have enjoyed very little actual spring and I hope we are given a burst of gentler days before we blast off into the inevitable heat of summer. At least we hadn't had to water for a few days.
And now, I must wind up this post, engage my brain and launch forward into another day in the East End Gallery.
Toodle-pip... !
And every day is a new day with no mistakes yet (courtesy of Anne of Green Gables, I think).
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