Reaching Out at Christmas

Writing this blog is somehow comforting to me. I don't know who reads it, probably not many people, but I know some good friends are regulars. It's with them I feel I'm communicating my thoughts and this case my best Christmas wishes. It's good people I've been associated with who have made life something to cherish. So Merry Christmas to you who reads and may you be favoured by a gentle breeze and good fortune.

The hospital (Flinders) rang me today, a part of the surveillance program on my carotid artery. The purpose of the call was to discuss the pictures from my ultrasound examination done last Friday It was scheduled for yesterday, but I was shopping in the mall on Friday when a phone call came from Jones Radiology to tell me they'd had a cancellation and if I could be there in 20 minutes I could take the spot. Apparently, my artery is OK. There's been small change since my last ultrasound but not sufficient to cause concern or action. I'm clear for another 6 months when they'll organize another U/S.

I remain afflicted by the stiff legs despite my remedial massage program, so I've booked a Doctor's appointment for 6 Jan. I'll inform Doc that I'm cutting the statin tablet into quarters and therefore taking only 20mg per day instead of the originally prescribed 80mg. I'll request blood tests for checking cholesterol and markers for RA as well as all the other things Doc usually does. I should then know more of my situation and have a better idea of whether it's the statin causing my leg/bum muscle difficulty, or something else. All I can do is keep looking for solutions, which is the same with everything, for me and everybody.

The soreness hasn't stopped me doing anything. Most days I go down the river for an hour or so and do good things. Very satisfying.

I'm slow but the book on Vietnam tells a gruesome story. I'm still only about 15-20% of the way into a 600-page small print book, but it's absorbing. I did not realize there was a large-scale revolutionary war with the French years in duration in the first half of the 1950's. Losses of people and resources by both sides, as well as much suffering by the civilian population, most of whom were poor to start with. Then after the formal partition of Vietnam into north and south there was brutality and atrocity in extreme, by both the communists and the Diem Regime, in the second half of the decade. 

I started this post last Tuesday - it's now Thursday.

The USA largely bankrolled the French for years with equipment and money due to their paranoia about communism. No doubt the Korean thing was a factor in this. The British were reluctant to become involved by joining the US with this support, believing it to be futile for France to try to maintain their colonial asset in Indochina (If they couldn't hold on to India what hope could France have).

 

After all the Geneva peace talk stuff and partition the US continued its financial input, now to the Diem regime in the south. The money and equipment were misused in huge corruption making the Diem people wealthy and most of Vietnamese population even more poverty stricken. An almost unbelievably inept disastrous level of incompetence and corruption. I will read on, difficult and slow as it is, such is the detail, but in my humble opinion the author has done an amazingly good job so far.

Back to my health situation. Starting Monday I had neuralgic pain at the top of my head shooting down to my right ear every minute or so. It was not severe, painkillers eased it, but I used them sparingly. Tuesday night I woke a couple of times with the pain stronger. At 6am Wednesday I took two Panadeine. At 6.30 the pain persisted so I took two Ibuprofen. The shooters were now every 10-15 seconds. After 7am I said to Lib I think I'll go to the hospital to get a blood test, to check inflammation and my RA markers given my history. Lib drove me up and came home.

Seven and a half hours later, I rang Lib, she picked me up. The doc at ED, Amy, a lovely young of lady of Scottish origin (I wish I'd asked her how a Scottish lass came to be a doctor at Victor Harbor Hospital) told me I did the right thing coming in, my inflammation levels were high. After consultation with rheumatologist, she said it was unlikely it was temporal arteritis (I had told them of my scare some 15 years earlier when I had artery biopsy to find negative for that) but to monitor myself closely and if I had strong pain, trouble chewing or vision issues to get back there quickly. By this time the pain had eased. She told me to ask for more blood tests at my Jan 6 Doctor's appt to compare with today's. 

I'm not mucking around; I'm going to take Ibuprofen say three times a day if necessary and mix it up with Panadol. I'm confident I'm OK or will be fine in a day or two. I have a bit of an overreactive immune system methinks which gets a bit enthusiastic when it encounters triggers. I was getting prickled and bitten by ants, mozzies, mites, flies down the river and munching antihistamines to alleviate rash. 

I feel great today, no pain. My leg soreness has almost disappeared entirely. Maybe that's because I've upped the painkillers, maybe it's because my massage program took a while to kick in, maybe it's because I reduced the statin to a quarter of a tablet a couple of months ago (80mg>20 daily) and that took a while to kick in. I'll share all this with Dr Kamahl Mamoud when I see him on Jan 6 and take it from there.

All we can do is "Keep firing." I repeat my Christmas best wishes to my friends. May your lives be filled with joy. I love you.

 

 

History

I'm a lover of history. Lib bought a book at an op shop a while back. 'Vietnam - an epic history of a tragic war', by Max Hastings. It sat unread for a few months while I read other  books ahead of it in the queue; perhaps these others seemed less serious and more entertaining so moved ahead of it. I finished 'The Pursuit of Happiness' by Douglas Kennedy and had that feeling of loss when you read a long book that fully engages. It seems to me Douglas Kennedy is a pseudonym - the book is written in the first person, told by two women unrelated by blood but very much by circumstance. How could a man have such insight into female emotions? But a google search indicates I'm wrong. There was an historical element in the book, following people's lives through post WW11 in the US through a few decades.

 

I started 'Vietnam' yesterday. I've only read the introduction and 9 more pages. I have found it eye opening and have learned so much already that I didn't know, starting with history through the centuries of occupation on and off by China, then French occupation and exploitation over many decades, then WW11 when Japan usurped the French for a time. It seems everyone wanted the rich natural resources there for the taking. Add to that drought, famine and floods in the WW11 time frame with millions of people dying of starvation and it's no surprise I already feel enlightened and there's over 600 pages to go as it moves on to the more modern Vietnam/American/Australian war. It might get ugly. It will get ugly.

 

We had our FHRE Xmas break up lunch yesterday at the house up the road of one of our  members. A happy turn out, good people. I haven't been doing so much down the river this past few weeks. After a busy winter and first half of spring when I put in a lot of hours solo work due to logic of timing with weed flowering, I've eased right off. I'm suffering from soreness/stiffness in my upper front legs, at the top where legs meet torso. It slows me down and is uncomfortable more than severe, but I'm resting up a bit. I'm hopeful it has nothing to with the mesh inserted in my lower abdomen/groin in a double hernia operation about ten years ago, or isn't relapse of the Rheumatoid Arthritis I endured some years ago. More likely it's an issue with my lower back causing tightness and restriction through the hips to the top of the front of legs. I had a back massage a week ago which was great but the soreness remains. Next step is a back realignment in a remedial massage. Last resort doctor. Bad scenario hip degeneration, but I don't think so. 

 

I've been doing my best to avoid politics, the media has been unrelenting on the US election and are still at it, not to mention our domestic political intrigue which will escalate to frenzy in the coming months. I have a good tactic to keep my sanity. I get up each morning and put the radio on, tuned into Classic FM. As they say, "Life's better with music." Late at night I turn the TV to the Relaxation Music channel 844 and enjoy peaceful bliss with my cinnamon tea, preparation for beautiful sleep and dreams. Getting up a couple of times during the night to relieve the bladder from old man syndrome is no hardship, in fact I love the quiet and peace of the dark and usually stillness as I take in the night sky.

 

But not the night before last, when huge thunder cracked above waking me up to go look for old Pip, who was wandering around in pouring rain like a zombie, not in complete panic as she did prior to old age but totally disorientated. It was some storm, as loud thunder as I've ever heard. Good thing though, we had about 15ml of much needed rain.

Avuncular

 I'm not sure why, but on my way to the Saturday morning market yesterday a word came into my head. I resolved to ask the first three stall holders if they knew its meaning. I didn't have recall.

Kate my chocolate lady had no idea and used her phone to google it, but it was not working. Sarah my egg lady didn't know. I asked Peter at my fruit and veg stall and he looked at me strangely and asked me to spell it. By the time his wife Sophie had finished serving me he came up with an answer from google - "kind and friendly towards a younger or less experienced person."

eg- He was avuncular, reassuring and trustworthy.

I checked the Oxford pocket dictionary when I got home - "Like or of an uncle esp in manner" Latin avunculus - uncle

In the afternoon we went up the road for a barbie and to watch the AFL Grand Final with our good friends Geoff and Di. A friend of theirs was also present, Al from Strathalbyn. We had a great day. As we were leaving it occurred to me to ask each of them in turn if they knew the meaning of the word avuncular. Di first, a retired nurse shook her head in the negative. Al, a retired toolmaker also didn't know. Then I turned to Geoff, a retired schoolteacher and principal, thinking he would know. He didn't either. But they all do now.

I was pleased that the Ashcroft lad won the Norm Smith medal. His mother is the daughter of John Townsend who played in the Melbourne 1964 premiership team. When I was at Gatton College in 1974 a teammate in the Aussie rules football team, along with me one of the few who'd played it much previously, Jason Payne (Paine?) his name, told me his sister was married to John Townsend. Jason was an excellent player. Will Ashcroft certainly has a lot of footy genes. His father Marcus played 300 games including 3 premierships for Brisbane.

 

A Trip to the Riverland

Late morning of Monday 26 August Lib and I headed off for a change of scenery for a week. With the Skoda loaded with stocked esky and pantry box and a bag of clothes each our first destination was the Berri Caravan Park where I'd booked a cabin for two nights. It's always nice to hit the open road starting a road trip. 

We stopped for lunch at Strathalbyn which is a town about half an hour's drive from home. Pasties at the local bakery was the fare. I had a Ploughman's, Lib a standard. Mine was so big I struggled to finish it, despite it being the best pasty I'd ever had. Lib agreed with that assessment. We resolved to stop there on our way home and buy some for the freezer.

Between Strathalbyn and Murray Bridge we picked up the freeway heading north. I drove peacefully, not really knowing where I should turn off. I couldn't find my road map of SA before we left but was unconcerned thinking there'd be plenty of signage to take me to the Riverland. Mistake. At Tailem Bend the Murray was on the right (how come?) and I was wondering where the turnoff was. I kept going.  By the time we reached Coonalpyn I knew I'd gone wrong. At an intersection I saw a number of cars parked in front of a school/library, so I did a leftie and thought I'd ask at the school. I could find no people, despite entering several buildings, until after about 10 minutes I found a group of four ladies in an office way out the back. They explained it was a student free day which is why the school was almost deserted. 

They explained I should have turned off into Murray Bridge, the road to the Riverland was from there. There was a quicker back way along gravel roads to pick up the road I should have been on at Karoona. The youngest of the quartet, a delight, offered to come back to our car to help me how to work the GPS. She couldn't get it to work then I remember there wasn't one installed even though the facility by way of a screen was built in the dash. So, she tried my mobile phone into which Gord has installed some sort of Google map GPS thing that I don't know how to operate. We gave up on that and she gave me verbal instructions to follow the road I had turned into until it hit a bitumen crossroad then turn left and drive some 40k's to Karoona, then turn right and we'd get to Loxton/Berri. I have to admit I was totally disorientated, maybe that's a symptom of advancing age. I apologized to the girl for being a nuisance and thanked her for her effort. She said, "Not trouble at all, thank you for giving me reason to get out of that boring meeting."

By the time we got to Loxton, a three-hour trip had turned into five hours. Lib said she felt like a steak for tea so as we looked for a butcher, we saw a sign T-Bone Steak $24.99kg outside an IGA. They were in two packs and huge. Berri was 15 minutes or so away and we pulled into the caravan park at 5.28pm just before the office closed, which would have again tested my technology to manipulate the afterhours procedure. Cabin 24 was OK but standard ordinary, comfortable enough for us. The steak was magnificent. Lib cut meat off both, they were so big, we kept it for stir-fries for another meal.

Tuesday was windy, we took the opportunity to rest up in the cabin reading, and in my case doing crosswords and sudokus. We did a quick shop and took a walk on the river in the evening when the wind stilled. Lib made delicious tuna mornay for dinner. Wednesday, we drove to Renmark for a salad roll picnic lunch in a park by the river, then Lib stocked up on clothing from an Opp shop. Back in our cabin, after booking in for two more nights, we had the rest of the T-Bone steak with stir fry veg. Again delicious. Thursday, we explored around Loxton and booked into the caravan park there for two nights, but only stayed one as it turned out. Lamb loin chops for dinner back at Berri. Lib cooked on the nearest communal barbecue as she likes to do. Each night we the only ones using it. I cleaned it up afterwards, as I did also the dishes in the cabin where we ate.

The cabin at Loxton was newer, spacious and upmarket at $180 per night! Right on the river, with great walking tracks along and up steps to a grand lookout. Friday, we toured the historical town/museum for $10 a head, seniors price. A cooked chook from Woollies with salad for dinner, again delicious and with plenty of meat left on the chook for lunch sandwiches the next two days.

Using our phones we booked the Saturday night at 'Balcony on Six', an old hotel lodgings at Murray Bridge. An hour or so was spent in the gaming venue next door where Lib indulged a flutter on the pokies. I played too, on a one cent machine one line at a time, I lost $2 but had an hour's entertainment, if you can call it that.

Last night on our trip, so we got a family sized Italian pizza from 'The Oven' in the main St around the corner and it didn't disappoint. Leftovers to go. Sunday morning we were out to Monarto Safari Park early to pay entry and catch the first tour bus at 9.30am. We also booked a close encounter with the lions for 12.40pm, which was a fantastic experience. just enough time between tours for lunch from the esky of chicken sandwich and pizza.

Sunday it was nice to get home after stopping at Strathalbyn to get pasties to take home. That's about it. Gord did a good job looking after Pip and the maggies and the house in our absence. Roast lamb for our customary Sunday roast dinner. Magnificent.

If you think I seem to be preoccupied with food, you are right. It seems the older I get the more I enjoy my tucker, and a week on a leisurely holiday is the perfect chance to focus on simple joy. Also, by recalling meals helps me recall places where we were and what we did, the general sequence of events. 

  

And So it Goes

 I was walking in Victor Harbor crossing the road at the pedestrian crossing on Hindmarsh Road, from the Central Mall to my favourite shop 'Raw' to get some goodies. Someone had written in chalk some words from which I could barely make any sense. There was reference to AMBOS with an arrow pointing towards the ambulance station some distance up the road, as well as mention of Bible verses and some profanity amongst other things that were unintelligible. "They will go to Hell" was the conclusion.

While I was reading this and trying to decipher it a lady and her husband walked by and stopped to read.

"Somebody is a bit disturbed," I said. She agreed and said it was probably the same person she saw earlier that morning dancing around in front of the ambulance station wearing nothing but a pair of underwear. 

They walk among us, as I've heard said many times. The big worry is that in other places there are those now getting around wielding knives and attacking unsuspecting bystanders. Horrific!

August has been busy for me. The first week was good weather, so I got busy tonging the watsonia in the riverside we didn't do last year. Did heaps. Weather has turned now, rainy and showery, good for our plantings.

I got blood tests done last Tuesday in preparation for my consult back at Flinders Hospital on Sep 3. I don't have the results yet. I was booked to get an ultrasound on my carotid artery last Wednesday. A lady from Flinders University rang me on Monday asking me would I enter a research program on carotid artery blockage as I was a suitable candidate with the high-risk history. It entails going to Royal Adelaide Hospital next Wednesday and having a CT scan done which apparently shows far more detail than an ultrasound. It's about surveillance follow up to see if the carotid is blocking again as can happen. They'll take blood from me also which will be examined and stored for future research on me should it be done after my lifespan. This is in conjunction with my consult at Flinders Sep 3. I agreed as it seemed win/win for me. Only trouble is I have to get to R A Hospital at 11am next Wednesday, rather than the ultrasound here in Victor which I was told was not necessary if I was doing the CT scan.

My next-door neighbours Mark and Deb left for Brisbane last Thursday week. I rang Mark yesterday to see how they were because of all the rain in Brisbane. They never got there. Second night from here was in Parkes NSW in a motel. Deb took dog Lucy for a walk as she does twice every day and Lucy was attacked by a pitbull. Deb went to assist and the bloody thing latched onto her arm tearing it badly. Lucy was seriously injured and on 24 hour care at a vet's, just coming of drips today. Deb was hospitalized and had surgery and may need plastic surgery later. They never made it to Brissy to visit one of their sons and will head back here in the next day or two, expecting to get home on Wednesday. 

Just shows you, you never know what the next day brings.

Eye Drops and Other Things

I copied this below from my regular posts from Daphne Gray-Grant, a brilliant lady, a 'Publications Coach' who offers hints to both novice and serious writers.

Because my eyes remained dry for months after the trip, I eventually went to see my optometrist. He prescribed eye drops but instructed me to get the single-dose variety, which contains just enough fluid to moisturize both eyes, once (you break open a tiny plastic ampule to get liquid for one treatment).

These single-dose varieties, he told me, don’t require the same number of chemicals needed by entire bottles of eye drops, which guard against contamination over time. (If the tip of the bottle touches your face or eye, you are contaminating it.) The optometrist put me in that category of people who get irritated eyes simply from the chemicals in the treatment to fix eye irritation. Ironic, no?

It sparked my interest because at different times, having suffered from dry eyes, I've purchased and used these eye drops. Without going too much into this history, I say that yes, they give me comfort after application. My optometrist at one point suggested I should use them four times a day but if I couldn't do that then at least twice, morning on rising and night before retiring. I bought the type he recommended at his reception desk, these being more expensive than the others I'd brought at the chemist or supermarket previously, but he said they used recent innovations and were far mor effective. 

I used them for a while and bought another bottle at the high price, but after a while I decided to give it a go without them. Now I still get dry eyes, some days worse than others, but generally speaking, with blinking repeatedly they're OK. Daphne went on to talk about eye exercises such as blinking, rolling eyes, and side to side exercise. I'm happy in that I'm not spending money on eye drops that might get contaminated and I'm not putting chemicals in my eyes.

Daphne said, Ironic, no? Irritation from the very treatment to fix irritation. This led me to think of other things people do, that I have basically dispensed with, believing it to be unnecessary, and so saving money and reducing application of chemicals. I speak of hair shampoo, dandruff and other, and anti-perspirant deodorant. 

Yes, I sometimes still have a small amount of dandruff. For many years, even decades, I washed my hair every time I bathed, most days, with anti-dandruff shampoo. I had no dandruff. But if I stopped using the shampoo, a big incidence of dandruff surely followed, which is why I kept using it. Like an addiction, my scalp reacted if it didn't get its fix. I read somewhere that washing the hair everyday was not beneficial, it removed the natural oils that would keep things in balance. This guy only occasionally used soap and rinsed his hair now again with water. So, I tried that, it works - I have slight dandruff now and again, but I have no issue with it, it diminishes naturally. Another saving.

Same with the deodorant. I don't use it. When I did use it every day, for decades, if I didn't put it on one day, for sure I'd stink with BO. But by stopping using it and the body adjusting, I found that most times I don't need it. I bathe every day, with a minimum of soap, clean water is good. The body adjusts to what you do to it. If I work hard in hot weather and perspire profusely, I sometimes will use underarm if I'm going to be close with people, but in the main I don't use it and don't need it.

Like alcohol and nicotine, our bodies get addicted to things. Without them there's strong reaction. We go on a treadmill, back to the well, spending money. Most of it is unnecessary. Sugar's a big one, take a look at the supermarket shelves and aisles. Junk food too. 

The Bank Teller and The Barber

I was in the bank Monday, withdrawing my weekly cash allowance (self-imposed). The teller, a young lady named Megan, asked me how my weekend was. I told her a little story explaining a highlight as there were no customers behind me and it was nearing 12.30 when the branch closes for an hour. I asked her whether she had a good weekend and what was a highlight. She replied she went to Adelaide to help her partner buy a suit. He'd never owned one before and needed one for his wedding, they were getting married soon. I asked her when and she said the day after the King's Birthday weekend coming up soon. The registry office is only open on Tuesdays, they are getting married there.

I have a nice rapport with Megan, since I first met her a year ago when she started work at the bank. I told her of my very good friendship with Megan Kelly in the 1970's. We have drifted but I have much fondness for Megan K, now O'Brien. Sister of my friend Mark in Wangaratta she was fun loving with a sense of humour that would brighten anybody. I told bank teller Megan that my Megan back then was the only person who could have me enjoy dancing. I was not a dancer and frankly loathed it at the many functions of the day. But with Megan I was OK with it and grooved along with no reluctance. Megan K's youthful joy and laughter often appears in my memories fondly.

Megan today explained they weren't having a wedding celebration. They'd have the long weekend off to prepare, the Tuesday off to tie the knot at the registry, then back to work Wednesday. Other than her partner's father coming from Cairns to be a witness, there'd be no family to share the occasion, something they were both happy with. I gave her early congratulation and wished her well. I'll drop in a box of chocolates for her the week before the wedding. Her partner is named Nicco she told me in answer to my question. He's Dutch South African by origin.

The barber who cut my hair a couple of weeks ago had an amazing story. As I waited while he did the bloke before me, I overheard him say he'd been on cortisone for many years and it wrecked his bones. When my turn came, I asked him "Why the cortisone, if you don't mind me asking?"

He was a sickly kid during childhood after his family migrated from England when he was three. Doctors couldn't find what was wrong him until eventually he was diagnosed with acute Chrone's disease, which was not supposed to happen to one so young. I'm not sure how old he was at this point and my recall of his story may not be 100% accurate. Somewhere along the way whatever was going on with him caused him to have rheumatoid arthritis and a lot more cortisone. After some time, he was nearly buggered, in hospital for a long time. they were going to cut his leg off, he was all set, they'd painted orange on his leg so there could be no accident like cutting off the wrong leg. I knew what he was talking about as before my recent carotid clean out they'd coloured the side of my neck to make sure they did the right one. There was a Canadian doctor present (on some exchange arrangement) at the last prep session who suggested if this patient could be given to him to treat with a new bio injection treatment, he reckoned he could save the leg. It worked, but over time the weekly and now self-administered injection had adverse side effect.

He lived on Hindmarsh Island. His wife was at work. He was home alone and didn't feel well. He went to the toilet to vomit and collapsed over the bowl. Heart attack. This was last November. He said he would have died were it not for freakish lucky breaks. His wife would have come home to find him dead in the toilet. His son was coming from Morphetvale in his car to go to the schoolies function in Victor Harbor, an annual sheebang attended by thousands. He had been looking forward to it and planning for it. He was driving to VH and something made him change his mind. He inexplicably decided to forego the schoolies and go and see his dad instead. When he got there, he found him unconscious in the toilet. He bundled him in his car with great difficulty and drove him the half hour or so to VH emergency. 

The barber remembers little of this, but he recalls a lady in the waiting room letting out a blood curdling scream when his son brought him in and laid him on the floor. Staff came running. He remembers a nurse leaping over him and rushing outside, that's all. She was running to catch an ambulance crew who were around the corner at the ambulance ramp driving away. By a miracle they were a highly trained crew of paramedics who had transferred a patient, a job not normally done by these cardiac guys but fortuitously they were there. She literally banged on the back of the ambulance as it was driving off.

The barber learned these details later. The paramedics rushed him to Flinders Hospital some 50 minutes away, all the time doing CPR or whatever it's called, pumping the chest to keep him alive, breaking ribs in the process. He was operated on and survived. Apparently, the position of his blocked artery meant the normal outcome is an explosion causing death, but by a third miracle it didn't happen and he's a rare survivor of that particular event.

I asked him how old he was. 48. I thanked him for sharing his story and gave him a healthy tip. I wished him well and said I hoped he made it to 72, like me walking around healthy. I left the shop, thinking I'm so lucky.