on the path to recovery

Well, back again and it is now nearly four weeks after the big cut..... So far so good, the knee is doing everything it is supposed to be doing, I can bend to about 130 degrees, I can straighten it and, when I walk little distances without a crutch I don't wobble anymore.  The things one can get excited about.

A get well picture from the daughter of a workfriend

I'm down to one crutch now and little distances at home without any.  I have learnt to take it slowly as last weekend overdid it a bit and the knee became swollen and painful again.  One of the most blissful things was finally being able to take a bath last week.  I love my bath, I love relaxing in it and having a soak, but the surgeon had said no immersion in water until the wound is completely healed.  Different surgeons have different guidelines I have learnt, some don't worry about immersion and others do.  But the reading I have done suggests infection is one of the biggest worries with knee replacements, next to DVT which of course can kill you.  So I took the path of caution and stayed out of the water, which made it even more special when, after 3 weeks, I got the all clear.  Re the DVT the precaution is pressure stockings which are a special form of torture, the recommendation is to wear them for six weeks.  I managed for 3, dropping down to only wearing them at night after one week, when I was home from hospital, and so far I have survived. 

Next to having a bath the  most blissful was going to hydrotherapy.  Found the Royal Talbot which is a ten minute drive from here.  Had been relying on the doona stealing weasel to take me there but, just to have an excuse not to look after me for a few days, he developed shingles, on his face, with swollen eyes so he could not see. I decided he was probably not the safest form of transport.  So booked a taxi, which arrived 20 minutes late, but I made it, and thankfully got picked up by my saviour neighbour, otherwise I would probably still be waiting.  If you have aching joints and have not done hydrotherapy then you are missing out.  The pool is warmed, a bit like a warm, but not hot, bath.  The physio assesses you first then gives you tailored exercises depending on which part of the body is the issue. And in the water I can walk, I can step up and down and  I can squat.  Without pain!  The water takes the stress off the joints and enables you to do exercises you would not otherwise be able to do.  It is magical.  And you get to mix with a bunch of oldies who are at different levels of mobility.

No it's not me it's Ari enjoying the bath!

So the good things: 
First the steady improvement, finding movement is easier each day and learning to manage pain - not that I've had a lot but the best lesson I have learnt is that it is better to take something not too strong like Panadol regularly, like 3 or 4 times a day, than strong painkillers when you feel the pain.  The message is avoid the pain, and then somehow the brain learns that there is no pain so in the end the pain decreases, whereas if you don;t take them untilyou feel pain, the brain learns there is pain and gears itself up to it.  (Well that's my scientific explanation anyway)

Second has been how lovely people are.  The doona stealing weasel of course who tried to cater to my every need until the attack of shingles.  His son who came down from Sydney and helped distract him from worrying about me.   Friends who've dropped in to ease the boredom of hanging around the house, neighbours who've helped with shopping particularly while the doona stealing weasel was not able to drive, neighbours who brought in meals and helped to walk the dog.  Em coming to stay for a couple of days, Bec and family visiting and being brave enough to allow the boys to stay here for a few hours and entertain me.  Tyke and Ari helping carry out the washing and bring in firewood. Our gardener who everytime he comes, stacks the firewood inside for us.

Third has been the weather.  I deliberately waited until winter and it has proved to be a brilliant idea.  When it's cold and raining outside you don't mind being stuck inside.  But of course being Melbourne we still get sunshine, particularly in the morning.  It shines through the lviing room windows and I can sit in my old nanna chair and feel the warmth through the glass while I watch the birds and look out on the garden.  Or I can get down to the park and sit in the sun (with several layers of clothing to withstand the icy wind!) while the dog runs around and again thanks to friends who have helped get me and the dog down to the park and then played games with her while we were there.  We can light the fire and enjoy the warmth and comfort that provides, and have a lovely glass of red (once I stopped the morphine) resting on the hearth.

The nanna chair in the sun

Fourth is where we live, it's just around the corner from a small strip shopping centre, so I have been able to hobble up to the little supermarket, to the doctors and to the optometrist, so don't feel quite so trapped.  And we have several coffee places that I have been able to walk to (with crutches) when I want to get out of the house and treat myself to a good coffee. 

So I am bloody lucky, I know that and have learnt to appreciate even more the people and things which help to make my life comfortable and worthwhile.  The downside has been the debate (or lack of it) about asylum seekers and the solution and the inability of the parliament ot find a humane solution.  I must admit to having shifted from being in favour of only on shore processing to looking at other alternatives, given the number of people who have drowned while trying to get here.  I think the answer is a regional solution but that will take time and we can't wait for more boats to sink.  But the coalition and the Greens are so entrenched and while they cry and make impassioned speeches they won't make any concessions or even allow the Government to try a new approach.  Let's hope that the work of the committee will find a workable solution.

occasional moments of happiness and joy: Two weeks to go

occasional moments of happiness and joy: Two weeks to go: See below re the pre op fears. Had intended to post it some weeks ago but got taken over by lots of things. So now I am sitting in my hospi...

bees knees

Getting back to the blog

I have had a long break from this blog, but I am now facing a fairly major step in my life so I thought I would use this to share my journey with  whoever you are out there who takes the time occasionally to dip into this blog. 

 I am 62, in reasonably good health but have dodgy knees. 

xrays don't scan very well here is a very faint image of my dodgy knee

It's hereditary I think. my mum had dodgy knees, though she always claimed that it was because of an accident.  I did have an accident - fell off a bike and cut my knee open when I was twelve and thought speeding down a hill on a gravel road and ending in a ditch sounded like good fun.   But I don't think that's why my knees are dodgy, I just think some people have em and some people don't. 

My knees have been dodgy for a few years,to the point where I might even pass up the opportunity to browse around a market because it's painful walking and standing for so long - and me giving up that opportunity is a very bad thing.  I've always loved walking - it's been a way to get myself calm when I get upset, it's the joy of watching the dog get excited when I put my shoes on, it's taking the time to see the trees and, at the moment, the puddles, it's a chance to slow down.  But at the moment I think twice everytime I walk and when I do I walk slowly and it's often painful. And lately everyone and their dog has been saying to me as I wobble - (yes I have developed one of those distinctive dodgy knee wobbles)  - 'when are you getting your knees done?'

I noticed it when I visited the lovely Em in Korea and she strode while I dawdled.  I'm a good dawdler, but even dawdling is getting difficult, so I have finally made the decision to get my right knee done - June 4th is the date.  It means the damaged bits of my knee are replaced with a combination of metal and plastic after cutting into the bone to make a flat surface.  It's called Arthroplasty of the knee and it will make me beep when I go through those doovy lackers at the airport.  But importantly what I am hoping is it will get rid of the pain. 

So I've had the MRI - where you get fed into a long cylinder, with, in my case, my knee clamped like a bit of wood on a workbench, so it didn't move and they play you music to keep you calm, but the machine is so loud you can't hear the music. And they talk to you as well over the headphones and say encouraging things like 'only 6 minutes left' and 'well done'. Then that lovely photo gets sent over to the States where they make a prosthesis out of titanium which is what gets put into the knee.

I admit I am terrified - scared it won't work and I'll go through that and still have the pain or never be able to straighten my leg or my nerves will be damaged or that it will be infected and I'll have to have it removed and another one put in (the possible risks in the info sheet the surgeon has given me).I'm scared I'll die from the operation (not mentioned) or blood clots (mentioned).

But, what the hell, I have had a good life and I want to be able to walk properly again, for long distances and keep up with the grandchildren. So I am preparing myself.

Me with the dodgy knees and the dog who loves to walk and chase the bike

I am going to a physio who specialises in osteo stuff and the advice is to strengthen the muscles around my knee and my 'gluts' so lots of buttock squeezing while I stretch my leg back etc..  I ride my bike, I try to do it most days for at least 20 minutes each day - take the dog to the park and ride around the park.  I have a fold up bike so I can put it in the boot.  That's a funny thing - I can ride my bike all day and my knees don't get sore unless I go uphill, so the alternative is I could just get a wheel and pedals prosthesis!  And I love water and swimming which always helps and I do hydrotherapy with all the other old dears who have all sorts of dodgy bits - shoulders, hips, knees, ankles - the things that can go wrong with the human body are endless.  And sometimes after I have been doing my exercises my knees stop hurting so I think well maybe if I just exercise I won't need to have my knee replaced, but then I sit at the computer and have trouble standing up and have to limp around my chair for a minute to get the legs going!

Stay tuned for the journey if you like, or if you don't want to be reminded about all the difficulties of ageing stay away for the next month or so!

If you've had a similar experience or know someone who has, I would love to hear from you, I htink it is important that we share our difficulties and dilemmas as well as the good bits of our lives.

saying goodbye to a good woman

If you don't like reading about death or dying don't read this post.  This post is a tribute to my mum who died a little over a month ago.  She died after lying in hospital unconscious for just over a week, after having a cerebral haemorrage.  Her life was hard, she was one of twelve children in a family that was far from comfortable, her mother died when she was 18, she helped look afer her younger sisters and brothers, she was attacked by a man with an axe on her 22nd birthday and sustained injuries so serious she had to learn to talk all over again.  But she went on to get married, and had me and my two older brothers, travelled overseas for the first time by herself in her 70s and generally had a full life full of love, joy and hardship until she died at 90 .

We  recently had a celebration of her life, where her remaining brothers and sisters gathered with our extended family of grandhcildren, great grandchildren and assorted family and friends to say goodbye.  We made speeches, drank champagne and danced the Pride of Erin.

Mum (wearing the hat) with some of her brothers and sisters

So as I was sitting in the hospital with Mum and watching every one of her grandchildren visit her and talk and share memories of her with each other and share memories of their times together, it made me think of the stuff that binds us together as family, as friends, as part of a community.

Mum with my grandchildren

And I thought that family is about those threads that connect us, that are made up of shared memories, of stories, of times of sadness and loss, times of frustration and sometimes anger, times of great joy and celebration.  I thought that the threads are created by love, by friendship,  by shared activites, by caring, or just by being a friendly face when you walk down the street.

Sometimes those threads hold us tightly and warmly, sometimes they feel like chains that we want to break free of, sometimes they fray a little bit and the connection is lost for a while, but what is important, is that the threads are always there, waiting for us to pick them up.  They are the memories that are woven into our lives. 

For me mum was the start of the thread, the one that gave me and Frank and Harold and Patrick life.  She was, for our family, for the grandchildren, the great grandchildren, the one that bound us together, that would wrap around us when we were sad or lost and that would be a bit looser when we needed to move out or on, that would wave up and down with us when we were celebrating and that would just lie quietly around when we were all okay.  

Mum's remaining brothers and sisters

The threads of Mum’s life brought people together to celebrate her life, whether that connection was as a sister, a brother, a daughter, a son, a grandchild or great grandchild, a niece or nephew or a friend or carer.  And those threads extended out to those who were not with us for the celebration – her grandchildren, Emily, Simone and Rhowena, to the lovely Michelle who should still be with us but who is maybe now sitting with Mum and Norm, my dad, with Christine, with Patrick the child they lost and all Mum’s brothers and sisters who have gone before, Lil, Glen, Stan and Bell.

Maybe it's worthwhile to stop and refelct about the threads in your life, to think about the ones that you want to hold tightly and remember the ones that you may have let go of for a while. I know that wherever we go and whatever we do, the threads that connect us to the people who are still here and the ones who have gone, continue to weave themselves through our lives so that no-one is ever truly not with us, they live on in what we do, in how we think, they live on in our hearts and our memories and they help make us who we are…..

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Autumn in Melbourne no 2

I am still in love with autumn in Melbourne (and surrounds including in this blog Daylesford).

The leaves this year are just stunning, apparently a result of wet summer and now deep cold snap. 

So when I walk the delightful Jac in the morning I have been collecting leaves, I love watching them dry out and curl up, but then they lose their colour, so how excited was I this morning when I found a flower press in the op shop.

So watch out for the progress of my pressing!  And of course because it is autumn and I am celebrating the weather, a lovely glass of Truffle Hill shiraz while I cook my chickpeas to make some humous..... And the garden is giving us rocket, sugar snap peas, silverbeet, the ever present chilis, the garlic is springing up and just planted some broad beans.  Life is good hey!

Hope you are enjoying the weather and your surrounds wherever you are.

autumn in Melbourne

I love Autumn in Melbourne, with warmish sunny days, autumn leaves, cold nights so you can light a fire or snuggle under a warm doona, but sitll occasionally warm enough to entice one to go for a quick plunge in the clear seawater.

This autumn I've been enjoying having the grandchildren at the beach, loving watching the new plants germinate in the garden -we have garlic growing everywhere and walking the dog in the morning is an absolute joy with the lorikeets enjoying the flowering gums.  The Easter bonus was accompanying Bec and the kids to an easter egg hunt at Cranbourne then going to the Royal Botanic Gardens at Cranbourne.  The beautiful red centre of the gardens, the children's garden with a dinosaur made from old logs, the water feature where the children could paddle and play stepping stones and the amazing variety of Australian plants was a delight to the eyes and warming of the soul.  Spying a number of bandicoots in the surrounding bush topped it all off beautifully.

Happy hour for dog walkers

Now I know most people associate happy hour with a drink after work or at the local pub (or wine bar if you are a bit sophisticated!).   However me and the bloke I live with (the doona stealing weasel title has been stolen by Jack the dog) are part of an informal local dog walking group - well walking is actually a bit of a misnomer because the two legged animals tend to stand around and talk while the four legged ones run, wrestle, pee on any bags left on the ground, look for food, roll on smelly bits of ground and generally have a good time.  The group is at times referred to as the ALP - the Australian Labradoodle Party, although in true inclusive style, recognising the multicultural nature of our community, four legged animals from culturally and linguistically diverse (and occasionally unknown) backgrounds are allowed to be members. 



Members of cabinet seeking a briefing from a staffer

A debate in progress

The self appointed PM of the party is Benji, who this week declared that as the staffers (the two legged animals)  of Cabinet Ministers (the motley assortment of four legged animals) were seen to be suffering from stress due to heavy workloads they deserved a Friday Happy Hour.



A pre cabinet caucus meeting

 So the staffers were allowed to bring beverages such as wine or beer.  Which we did and a very civilised way it was to spend a balmy autumn afternoon in Melbourne as the sun was lowering, the dogs played and peed and the staffers quaffed.  The favourite tipple was white wine, we had a delightful Beelgara Estate Range Pinot Grigio, very soft, slight pear overtones and quite pleasant.  There was almost a disaster when a cabinet minister thought the wine glass could be water, however decisive action on the part of an observant staffer averted a problem.



Taking a break form the rough and tumble of cabinet

Should we call a point of order?



na na na na na - I've got the ball