tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85502144072692776092024-03-13T21:03:45.950+11:00Plumbing the Deeps... the last romantic ...Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.comBlogger291125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-80980993958598316592015-10-18T12:16:00.000+11:002015-10-18T12:16:17.167+11:00As men age ...<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRywo6-hl8l8BIDNGV4MH5cK2Bqf3Fi3ogJt0aK7KncPRHOwEkkKbvohfYXRNohCw97-lKtLGWG17KzSiHbEG-bX5MEt2k4bpq2oNBimfAN7ASw36nGYARC9Wh9j-4WsSF6WUF_kJxHHpZ/s1600/BWT+post+urology+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRywo6-hl8l8BIDNGV4MH5cK2Bqf3Fi3ogJt0aK7KncPRHOwEkkKbvohfYXRNohCw97-lKtLGWG17KzSiHbEG-bX5MEt2k4bpq2oNBimfAN7ASw36nGYARC9Wh9j-4WsSF6WUF_kJxHHpZ/s640/BWT+post+urology+006.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=25></TD><TD width=350>Barry, my big brother, had a stroke in November 2011, which left the majority of the left frontal-hemisphere of his brain swamped by blood. <BR><BR>
The gerontologist at Port Macquarie hospital refused to treat him, as he could tell from the destruction that drugs were the cause. TheHead of Rehab at Wauchope hospital, discharghed him 6 weeks after the stroke, when absolutly no rehabilitation had occurred. His language was imoaired, he laughed inappropriatly, and he toiltted into drawers. His MRI was redone toward the end of 2012, and there was no difference from the MRI immediately post-stroke.<BR><BR>
The veins in this part of his head, could no longer contain the blood, having been thinned and weakened by nearly 50 years (1966-2011) of taking any drug that he could come across. <BR><BR>
He suffered from delusions, and hallucinations before the stroke. The hallucinations (seeing the virgin-mary, and demons crawling out of his own belly-button) have eased, yet the delusions (neighbours, and the government tapping his phone, and opening his mail before resealing it) have been replaced by more plebian ones (other residents stealing his belongings). <BR><BR>
Yes, I agree "as ye sow, so shall ye reap". He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it. So what? He grew up in the same house as me. Why him? There is no answer to this, and no point really. The thing is: where to now?</TD></TR></Table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8NJt-NPERRzv5PfunMNEBPUZQe8AeQvVDUxj-2_9UF5d98raDbPbtcDkJLaA9MvWNe5kodjwtKFkS0cBDTZRCqSvKjgxL3Iou6xI269cKVkgbxSERO4gGf01Wx0-cqStTCOcrIXEz4yv/s1600/BWT+post+urology+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8NJt-NPERRzv5PfunMNEBPUZQe8AeQvVDUxj-2_9UF5d98raDbPbtcDkJLaA9MvWNe5kodjwtKFkS0cBDTZRCqSvKjgxL3Iou6xI269cKVkgbxSERO4gGf01Wx0-cqStTCOcrIXEz4yv/s320/BWT+post+urology+011.JPG" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8BBO3Skk2I2fDkZ3iKzLFrnXWrFQlYHDR0u9Kfty5-in-8aKJUtQvmBjGxlNLGEMt8yDpWOoXkOjHIX8zpex2JTLPYxf4SkhFWFg6bB_TCvgSoDWqn7-O9mBvo4FYJEnetLsgI5Bj4sX/s1600/BWT+post+urology+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8BBO3Skk2I2fDkZ3iKzLFrnXWrFQlYHDR0u9Kfty5-in-8aKJUtQvmBjGxlNLGEMt8yDpWOoXkOjHIX8zpex2JTLPYxf4SkhFWFg6bB_TCvgSoDWqn7-O9mBvo4FYJEnetLsgI5Bj4sX/s320/BWT+post+urology+004.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></Table><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=700>In the first half of September, with the advice of the RN, Will, I agreed to Barry being taken to Gosford Hospital to have his stomach pain investigated. This was the very day I forced myself to see my GPO to try to circumvent another round of IV pneumonia treatment. Ross'n'Robyn visited him, and were told that he had urine retention. The low potassium was not discovered until the end of this 5-day stay. <BR><BR>
He was released back to the faciliuty with a catheter draining his urethra, via his penis, to a bag attached to his leg. He was/is not in the least comfortable with this. Nor does he understand it. Whenever the catheter drains his bladder, he still says he needs to go to the toilet. Yesterday, I was forever asking him whether it was for a wee or a poo. like I was talking to a grand-daughter!<BR><BR>
He doesn't understand the process, that alone the cause. I tried explaining to him that it is an issue that many men have to contend with as they age. But, new information does not get absorbed by his brain. The facility does not classify him as suffering from dementia, as he has few of the disruptive behaviours. Not that I would wish these upon him.</TD></TR></Table><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMY7EJ0KjMGaDmjcPdX5zYlnWO1iu7MTG8ksB_zqWqbBe3cfd_6bvipuCtGnx93lh8hlv3Fwjgk3UgOdl9RctAKFlH1stEJSo-qxgHpjlDAy-w20t_Zs67f44w8WhWveYXnY1_xTSte_R/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMY7EJ0KjMGaDmjcPdX5zYlnWO1iu7MTG8ksB_zqWqbBe3cfd_6bvipuCtGnx93lh8hlv3Fwjgk3UgOdl9RctAKFlH1stEJSo-qxgHpjlDAy-w20t_Zs67f44w8WhWveYXnY1_xTSte_R/s320/1.JPG" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwE0rqJSuKH0nq0tJSpvv-Es-zz0Y-w3BVrazAD62oHm1CA56T7QF0q9G8G3Qol-26LEX3oaPg371RN5i157ws8V-cCt48ZBc5pk045BLRx47bXvzb8xt5-jXUTmWVzSfsNPO2JADQ4wth/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwE0rqJSuKH0nq0tJSpvv-Es-zz0Y-w3BVrazAD62oHm1CA56T7QF0q9G8G3Qol-26LEX3oaPg371RN5i157ws8V-cCt48ZBc5pk045BLRx47bXvzb8xt5-jXUTmWVzSfsNPO2JADQ4wth/s320/2.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></Table><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=700>So, Friday just gone, Ross'n'Robyn, once again, took Barry to see the urologist in his Gosford rooms. The prostate is enlarged, and there ius total urinary retention. He will be started on potassium tablets which will take about 3 months to kick in. <BR><BR>
Now comes the bit I am unsure about. There are three treatment possibilities, and I describe them in order of severity:<blockquote><UL>
<LI>He could be trained to deal with his own treatment, ie continue the catheter from the penis, just train Barry how to empty it, and how to keep it clean. This is the least invasive treatment (no general anaesthetic for starters), given that all treatments are goiung to be uncomfortable, and embarrassing.</LI>
<LI>A small amount of the enlarged prostate could be "singed away" via a device inserted up the penis. I think this still involves the on-going use of a catheter, but not sure why. Perhaps a prostate helps keep the bladder in place somehow. There is anaesthetic, and recovery involved here.</I>
<LI>The entire prostate could be removed vis an incision in the lower abdomen. Once again, this still involves a cather, but from the incision point, not via the penis. This is a full-blown operation with about 5 days in hospital. To the best of my knowledge, Barry has never had surgery before.</LI></UL></blockquote>
So, there is a lot for me to learn, and to find out. Ross has the urologist's report coming. The urologist recommended that we try them in order, and start with trying to train Barry re his own care. As such, Ross has booked him in for a session at the <a href="http://www.continence.org.au/pages/overflow-incontinence.html">Erina Continence Clinic.</a><BR><BR>
When Baz was cutting his toe-nails yesterday, I noticed the bag on his leg, and asked him to let me have a look. He is used to my blunt ways. The bag was filled to the top, and this was about 10 o'clock in the morning. I know he drinks very little, if any, water. So my guess is that it was not emptied when he woke up. We went and asked an assistant to empty it for him, which happened immediately. But HE did not think to look, nor to ask. This is my concern.
</TD></TR></Table><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcMQ8HBTS7YB6N1fmBxIzHy7vmN_2iIMvKkIjlN6ODihzZYyvtYSQyjR2Ero9EuO0Nkih4DP_yT9UpPi2jkq9KA_m2XmCCRImkunPwkbO9AS0WV4qm_kx3p7qhLOH6lS_xAPs4eUnXIo9/s1600/BWT+post+urology+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcMQ8HBTS7YB6N1fmBxIzHy7vmN_2iIMvKkIjlN6ODihzZYyvtYSQyjR2Ero9EuO0Nkih4DP_yT9UpPi2jkq9KA_m2XmCCRImkunPwkbO9AS0WV4qm_kx3p7qhLOH6lS_xAPs4eUnXIo9/s640/BWT+post+urology+028.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></Table><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=700>Now to the renovation of the facility. It has changed just sooo much in the 2 1/2 years Baz has been a resident. Two-thirds are now "ageing" residents, and one-third is "dementia" residents, in their own gated memory-support unit. Both inside, and the gardens are fully separate. I have gone into my thoughts, and further ideas in a FB post. But here are some of the responses from Barry, and how I am able to use some of the changes to make him feel more at home.<BR><BR>
In a corridor, not far from his room (4-bed share)), there is a print of Peter Hayward's "The Quiet City" (1960), which shows a street scene in Greenwich Village in Lower Manhatten, New York. We chatted about it, knowing how he would have loved to be a painter. We talked about the stoops, the brownstones, and especially, the flower seller. Now that I know more about it, we will discuss it again next time, and I will get a Sali Herman print of Paddington terraces to compare it with.<BR><BR>
Then, up too high on the wall, was another print I thought he might like. I took a guess (wrongly, as it turns out) that it was a Tom Roberts or a Frederick McCubbin. Iasked him what he thought the woman was doing. He tried to say a word but could not think of how rto say it. He eventually blurted (yes, quickly) out "beer". Now, I am used to interpreting Juliet;'s 2 YO speech, so I praised him for being so close, and went on to discuss bee-hives, and how the woman did not have any protection from stings. I have one of Alannah;'s book to show him about caring for bees. The print was "The Old Bee Farm" (1900), by Clara Southern.<BR><BR>
Finally, in an outside sitting area, there was a Japanese metal-craft work, that I knew he would respond to, once again mostly mutely. He could find neither "volcano" nor "Buddha". I discussed the colours, the shape, and the style. Then I went on to a discussion of Buddhism vs Christianity, which he could not engage in at all, except that he knew he was Catholiuc, and that God was more important that Buddha. That is all. After all those years of his like searching, and reaching out, all the angst, and the heartbreak, his main word was "Catholiuc".<br><br>
Drugs are bad shit.</TD></TR></Table><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzx9kRUkAjttdoeq6fD9zXezm810AaNqlauwGz6kqtkj1OICXroKy8mqmp-a7bs4JjpXmagEime2W6v0GecGdsQoSQR4G9gLPprJZGclFCkjpbBG4HHsMDNaPS0ZoU7QliX5YxO3HJQ2Ww/s1600/BWT+post+urology+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzx9kRUkAjttdoeq6fD9zXezm810AaNqlauwGz6kqtkj1OICXroKy8mqmp-a7bs4JjpXmagEime2W6v0GecGdsQoSQR4G9gLPprJZGclFCkjpbBG4HHsMDNaPS0ZoU7QliX5YxO3HJQ2Ww/s320/BWT+post+urology+019.JPG" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNotZvQ25j4YWemYWTYW_joLzNptUg1SYca8B1DX-t8luVHZtEpRupXxxtK-rSE2GmlFy0R2JngmRBJZXXtE-Dr_uXPFcZIvhdgMc9P-CGsuLlus8FE-kTYqRER8nGI5X-2ky2KpAPa-4/s1600/BWT+post+urology+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNotZvQ25j4YWemYWTYW_joLzNptUg1SYca8B1DX-t8luVHZtEpRupXxxtK-rSE2GmlFy0R2JngmRBJZXXtE-Dr_uXPFcZIvhdgMc9P-CGsuLlus8FE-kTYqRER8nGI5X-2ky2KpAPa-4/s320/BWT+post+urology+020.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></Table><BR>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-73208164506421927612015-08-31T20:51:00.000+10:002015-08-31T20:51:20.445+10:00The importance of feet<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrM2jmZkokV4LksfJXeFZx9mcUlZep5LlNuXHKeu6P9RFwAfUUQFLDzCdEmAswaLf6IOGcXxOKIr9xCL2VzKM2fuWAZy0g1FjFAma3rRu8fHyPS35XBahK_r5o639eBFjFFJem1et5cJH/s1600/Foot+Left.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrM2jmZkokV4LksfJXeFZx9mcUlZep5LlNuXHKeu6P9RFwAfUUQFLDzCdEmAswaLf6IOGcXxOKIr9xCL2VzKM2fuWAZy0g1FjFAma3rRu8fHyPS35XBahK_r5o639eBFjFFJem1et5cJH/s640/Foot+Left.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width= 600>I saw my GP about my feet sometime during 2014. I was nervous because I feared he would think I was a malingerer. What's that word for someome who thinks they are alwayts ill with the next big thing? ... a hypochondriac. Thank you Dr Google. I was actually worried that it might be "diabetic foot" which was on the way to becoming gangrenous, not that I am diabetic. But, I did not voice this - too embarrassing. I just told him that my right foot stung, and flared red periodically. He turned it over. Said it was nothing to worry about. And gave me some "Diprosone" in case it was some sort of psorasis, which even I knew it wasn't. Kirsten suffers from that, and psorasis is much different, and much worse.<BR><BR>
So, 12 to 15 months later, I now seem to have this permanently on BOTH feet. I went through a period where it would alternate feet: one foot would be screaming red, and the other deathly white. The white I was used to. My circulation has been bad for many years, and my feet are so like blocks of ice that I wear hiking socks to bed, even in summer. The pain is distracting 24/7, but worse at night, or I am aware of it more at night. Half the week, the throbbing will wake me after about 3 hours, when I take two panadol, which ease it enough to go back to bed after about 90 minutes. So, just garden-variety panadol eases the perception of pain. <BR><BR>
The feet are not damaged anywhere that I can see. I do not have tinnea, or cracked and peeling feet. I clean my toes assiduously. It is extremely painful to get the towel between my two smallest toes, on either side. My shoes are not too small, and are totally flat. My socks are Bond's cotton variety. My hiking socks are a quality (expensive) wool blend.<BR><BR>
So, tomorrow, I go back to my GP to ask him to set up an "Ancillary Enhanced Primary Care Plan" for Podiatry which will enable me to partially claim up to 5 visits to a podiatrist each year. <BR><BR>
It could be something as obvious as chilblains.</TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxDwzHYWhFOmHNcSwmQ7U34BA4rhxcuEk6KThrJSxSsteCKEOZKjaIixHMyLDsnIboTD727JDocXfZ1RJPbdkVrucdsAlOaE-h72OMO5-iMDjaTjpgPTHSuqNfk6zSFWBP7XmPH_UKez4Z/s1600/Foot+Right.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxDwzHYWhFOmHNcSwmQ7U34BA4rhxcuEk6KThrJSxSsteCKEOZKjaIixHMyLDsnIboTD727JDocXfZ1RJPbdkVrucdsAlOaE-h72OMO5-iMDjaTjpgPTHSuqNfk6zSFWBP7XmPH_UKez4Z/s640/Foot+Right.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-25664849792084470982015-08-23T11:00:00.000+10:002015-08-23T11:00:40.206+10:00Here's looking at you ...<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvpvfDrsmwixi3EA7hyphenhyphenTB0HVB-kLmLmUgPRiW0pj384gEbCSBF-4iqAF3PfoXeUFKO2cSnBxWbVUttnNPO383NlEFaDkL_yIjRsZArm8MWMUzEwFB-nmnOiN5QghT9hY3gn2UnJzIGQlX/s1600/19347356443_8d9c6762a5_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIvpvfDrsmwixi3EA7hyphenhyphenTB0HVB-kLmLmUgPRiW0pj384gEbCSBF-4iqAF3PfoXeUFKO2cSnBxWbVUttnNPO383NlEFaDkL_yIjRsZArm8MWMUzEwFB-nmnOiN5QghT9hY3gn2UnJzIGQlX/s400/19347356443_8d9c6762a5_k.jpg" /></a></TD><TD width = 600>These are my notes, and my thoughts upon the various tests that I undergo in an attempt to diagnose my symptoms. I have significant "movement disorder" involving cerebral ataxia, peripheral neuropathy, and bilateral vestibulaphy. I write these notes in an attempt to keep track of the symptoms and their significance. I do not write these notes to evoke sympathy; I need knowledge, rather than sympathy. In and of myself, I am doing okay. I would like my symptoms to be all rolled into something approximating a diagnosis. I do not expect a "cure", nor do I expect a treatment regime. I do half-expect a diagnosis of dementia at sometime in the next 5 years, however. Hence, I am pushing myself through the excellent on-line course devised by the Wicking Centre at the University of Tasmania. Half-expect should more truthfully be three-quarter expect. So, no coo-ing soothing words, please. But if you have any friends/rellies with similar impacts, I would be delighted if you were to comment.<BR><BR>
On Friday 7 August, I yet again traipsed over to Royal North Shore Hospital (RNSH) this time for a "Nerve Conduction Study" and some video-ing (three vowels together was too much to cope with, hence the random dash). This was at the behest of Dr Con Yiannakis who is a neurologist from Concord Hospital who specialises in Movement Disorders. The neurologist I saw on 24th July was Dr John Parratt, who specialises in Multiple Scerosis, which is a specific movement disorder. I do not have MS, nor Parkinson's (PD), but I do have some of the symptoms of each.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width = 600>Amy, the technician, and I had a long chat about the category called "technician", and where it fitted into the medical spectrum. Then, she set to work collecting the information to present to the Movement Disorders conference. The patient prior to me screamed each time the current hit, so Amy was assiduous in warning me, which was self-defeating, as my protective instincts kicked in and deflected a portion of the charge producing a dud reading. I told her I wasn't a screamer (Duh!), and she should just flick the switch without warning me, which she did and the recording went off like clockwork. They are looking for any missing evoked potentials, ie nerves that do not react to an electrical charge. In my case, they were studying Sensory Evoked Potential of specific peripheral nerves in both feet, and my right hand. The nerves in my right leg that no longer have the power to conduct sensory impulses are: the Median, the Ulnar, and the Sural. These sensory nerves gave no response, whereas the motor nerves (Median, Ulnar, and Peroneal) returned a velocity within the normal band (40/60 m/sec). I have had a Nerve Conduction test with each neurologist I have seen at clinic.</TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjztPfdXatTjZIVD3qtZVI8YZObOJ4aXChyo1nMr3XgXqfdIbVvjcxtWCXYsvYx7WCJaSusMe6gRuKihOKwO_zCUebKaQ5BIlXMJ2t9PvdBf8tCJWRh-2gqAbuHp3tU6jfIg8-Hs7ciNsk/s1600/19781359199_f8312220a3_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjztPfdXatTjZIVD3qtZVI8YZObOJ4aXChyo1nMr3XgXqfdIbVvjcxtWCXYsvYx7WCJaSusMe6gRuKihOKwO_zCUebKaQ5BIlXMJ2t9PvdBf8tCJWRh-2gqAbuHp3tU6jfIg8-Hs7ciNsk/s400/19781359199_f8312220a3_k.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width = 600>Dr Yiannakis returned, and was happy with the data recorded. He then proceded to test my reactions and my eyes. I had to touch the tip of his finger as it describes an arc in front of me - arm's length. This is done for both hands, One side is usually more inpaired than the other. In my case, it is the right-side. Touch his finger, touch my nose. I cannot always touch them first-time, and it might take a second to find either his finger, or my own nose. This time my right hand developed a decent case of the tremors, which threw me a bit. I have been noticing body and head tremors, not at rest but under motor stress. This just leads to more stress, until I stop trying and rest instead. This activity was video-ed.</TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2cLhOW_tdTWjQtK9f5qatyvHt6aOrBMqac76MPMk9_Qx6AkwhJE1fIVlig-AwxhSa4kriMMzxx-taIO51GhXHjDQlsjPHbKmmUeZPUy7IrCIj4uA8hBIVmqG17890ikYGgDVfY2AH6HQP/s1600/20587108916_9b891ae0ea_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2cLhOW_tdTWjQtK9f5qatyvHt6aOrBMqac76MPMk9_Qx6AkwhJE1fIVlig-AwxhSa4kriMMzxx-taIO51GhXHjDQlsjPHbKmmUeZPUy7IrCIj4uA8hBIVmqG17890ikYGgDVfY2AH6HQP/s400/20587108916_9b891ae0ea_k.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-f0-kZX8E2JkUpTeRDcSEYNFe3i1YiXUO-bL1msblEVNASTWMdCelnJMEUU-XVZFOKWXcRTzp1gt-P2ctRgw2u8MWUp9RjGlJYND4S_Hk070Aj8liM_9aq2cDzDgZcfUAdrYTHkZ4HdY0/s1600/Frenchy%2527s+Cafe+Middle+Head+026.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-f0-kZX8E2JkUpTeRDcSEYNFe3i1YiXUO-bL1msblEVNASTWMdCelnJMEUU-XVZFOKWXcRTzp1gt-P2ctRgw2u8MWUp9RjGlJYND4S_Hk070Aj8liM_9aq2cDzDgZcfUAdrYTHkZ4HdY0/s400/Frenchy%2527s+Cafe+Middle+Head+026.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=600>The next activity was checking the tracking of my eyes. I have a lot of double-vision, a lot of eye-ache (caused by "bloating" ?), and nystagmus.
The nystagmus was particularly noticeable in the extreme right of my right eye this time. Disconcertingly so. Increasingly, I am inclined to look down at the immediate path beneath my feet. I find I am only comfortable looking up at the way ahead, if I stop all forward progression. I must get my eyes tested again, not having done so since 2007! I broke my round, tortoiseshell glasses. Well, not really broke them: they simply came apart in my hands. However, eye tests are not a good test of how well I see, as they make you rest your chin on a bar, and blinker both sides. This stops all movement of the head which is what causes much of my sight problems. But there is a degree of eye-age over time ...<BR><BR>
I have mentioned before, that one of my defining characteristics is a cough, sometimes hacking. Often caused by stress, even stress when I sit down at the table to eat. There are now two other symptoms that accompany this cough:<UL>
<LI>An aching pain that envelops the small of my back, to the extent that I feel sure it is going to crack. It is not a shooting pain that flashes, but an ache that envelops. I am increasinly holding the small of my back when coughing and when arising from a sitting position.</LI><BR>
<LI>An excess of saliva that drools out of the right-hand corner of my mouth. Perhaps the excess saliva is always there and when I cough, I lack the ability to keep it inside my mouth.</LI></UL></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>One final thought for this long post. I am seeing a range of doctors/neurologists. Yet they all seem to have similar office-assistants. Officious. They ring me with one option for an appointment. They bully me by saying they have created the time specially for me, and otherwise the wait would be extensive - 6 months even. They bully me by saying he (invariably a he doctor) only does a specific day at my nearest clinic. The assumption is that I will drop everything and meekly turn up at the date/time offered. This is most annoying! I provide child-care for my grand-daughters. I will NOT drop everything, and rush to the clinic, especially when I know it is primarily to facilitate a conference presentation, or a journal paper.<BR><BR>
Now to try to find some innocuous photographs, to break up the wads of text. How about some images of the girls over the last two months?</TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQg3-VrKiKDlvcqvh3I3lUz_izlILiGQSM4B7vMHhkDQ4BNP89o-k7F02nt9_CpZKaK4ugdORANsfMVDldzMtSBPd8b4eyN7DCEaaMZ9PZg8r0BeCkqRHnpYb676UcKjjKqLYBNnryqt_/s1600/Frenchy%2527s+Cafe+Middle+Head+042.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQg3-VrKiKDlvcqvh3I3lUz_izlILiGQSM4B7vMHhkDQ4BNP89o-k7F02nt9_CpZKaK4ugdORANsfMVDldzMtSBPd8b4eyN7DCEaaMZ9PZg8r0BeCkqRHnpYb676UcKjjKqLYBNnryqt_/s640/Frenchy%2527s+Cafe+Middle+Head+042.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></Table>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-36502713969909214282015-07-25T19:05:00.000+10:002015-07-25T19:05:49.867+10:00A synapse of neurologists<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIkvpvyZjg6hzC5Y5lsSkuAbnQ6fTSzKXd1QqWnC3DvKYP5WU97U34TneRbYcY2kgLLZgjo4v-6Qk-z7_EIPy9cLoyfFx9HvIo9jhrstXaEFHBFrziV-th1ckHDU42T6pkq0hHxRrSOjl/s1600/RNS+036.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIkvpvyZjg6hzC5Y5lsSkuAbnQ6fTSzKXd1QqWnC3DvKYP5WU97U34TneRbYcY2kgLLZgjo4v-6Qk-z7_EIPy9cLoyfFx9HvIo9jhrstXaEFHBFrziV-th1ckHDU42T6pkq0hHxRrSOjl/s640/RNS+036.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Last March I came on board with another neurologist, one new to me, my fifth since 2000: <a href="http://www.clinic.stvincents.com.au/clinical-directory/specialists/profile/103/Assoc_Prof_Raymond_Garrick">Ray Garrick,</a> from St Vincent's Clinic in Paddington; <a href="http://sydneyneurology.com.au/about-us/">Stephen Reddel</a>, from the Brain & Mind Research Institute in Camperdown; Michael Halmagyi, from the Balance Clinc in Royal Prince Alfred Hispital in Camperdown; Simom Lewis, also from the BMRI in Camperdown; and, <a href="http://www.msra.org.au/dr-john-parratt">John Parratt</a>, from the Neurology Department at Royal North Shore Public Hospital. They each made progress of a sort, along a pathway that interested them. Clinical medicine is not clear-cut in many cases. <BR><BR>
It is complex; my symptoms are complex. They fit nothing in particular, yet everything in general, viz Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson;s Disease, CANVAS, SCA3. Halmagyi was working on the premise that the syndrome he labelled C A N V A S (cerebral ataxia, neuropathy, vestibular arreflexia syndrome), fitted me to a glove. His most recent paper gathers together about 80 sujects with the full range of symptoms. I have not read this paper yet, nor am I one of the participants. So, what are my symptoms? In no particular order:<UL>
<LI>peripheral neuropathy</LI>
<LI>missing VVOR</LI>
<LI>loss of balance</LI>
<LI>dystonia of neck and eyelids</LI>
<LI>diplopia</LI>
<LI>cramping of arms, and legs</LI>
<LI>weariness</LI>
<LI>MGUS</LI>
<LI>persistent dry cough, and</LI>
<LI>oscillopsia.</LI></ul>
That should do for starters.</TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1QKtfGW2QP4/VbIidZ2mZlI/AAAAAAAAov0/FXaH59DfHdI/s1600/Parratt%2Bat%2BRNS%2B056.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1QKtfGW2QP4/VbIidZ2mZlI/AAAAAAAAov0/FXaH59DfHdI/s640/Parratt%2Bat%2BRNS%2B056.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>The very first time I can remember a symptom was leaning on a fence at the old West Pymble Swimming pool watching my daughter jump in the deep end of the 50m pool, while my son was standing chest-deep in the learners' pool. They would have been about 6 and 4, which would make the year 1985, and make me 37 years of age. This was 30 years ago. I felt a tight band of elastic around both my ankles, which I now know was the start of the peripheral neuropathy. The next symptom to come along was the cough. It would invariably engulf me at the dinner table, and I was told not to try to talk while I ate. A very effective way of muzzling me. My children maintain that it was definitional: they knew where I was at any given time, because they could hear me.<BR><BR>
The worst symptom or many years was the peripheral neuropathy, which is a bit of a misnomer, as there is nothing peripheral about it at all. It is everywhere. Through my trunk. Up and down both arms and legs. In my scalp. Across my eyelids. Aound my lips. Everywhere. However, it does not bother me as much. Fifteen years ago, when I took my shoes off after a day at work, the pins and needles would explode out of my feet, in masses of painb. Probably the same thing happens now, just that I no longer able to feel it. My worst symptom now, would have to be my eyes. They get very tired, very dry. I have to blink excessively, and rib my eyelids.<BR><BR>
So, what did I learn today, and where do I go next.</TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cv8_JIIoZ5MOfr_armi1FitZ7XIa9yfmLGQRtdsKPLO_Np0BWiPyqlHSZ9F1SEUvScNp_LwIvlj7kg0JN3j-mUysxbq5UiKaRUdzGxPrMBZhCLry0FRH_UXLbe9j9W2NDVLdy17AOCX9/s1600/RNS+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cv8_JIIoZ5MOfr_armi1FitZ7XIa9yfmLGQRtdsKPLO_Np0BWiPyqlHSZ9F1SEUvScNp_LwIvlj7kg0JN3j-mUysxbq5UiKaRUdzGxPrMBZhCLry0FRH_UXLbe9j9W2NDVLdy17AOCX9/s640/RNS+038.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Parratt's team had collected together all my files from previous neurologists. So, now we have base data. There are a lot of nerve studies in this documentation. There is an MRI which is now just over two years old. In March, Parratt opined that my symptoms indicated an SCA (spinocerebellar ataxia), without specifying which of the 31 (and counting) was the most likely. He indicated that he could offer me a genetic test to narrow it down. Today, he was not so sure it is an SCA. He has been convinced that the CANVAS testing/results are the way to go. So, he is going to come at the issue from a number of different angles.<BR><BR>
The SCA pathway, for mine, is a good one to downplay, or eliminate. SCAs, nearly all of them, are dominantly inherited, meaning there is a 50% chance that offspring will inherit the problem. A good one to give the flick, but not unrealistically. However, the SCAs have been sujected to genetic testing being developed for them. So, Parratt needs to know if it is contemplated that a genetic test could be developed for CANVAS. All these neurologists know each other, and most of them work in and around labs at The University Of Sydney.<BR><BR>
Some bloods were taken today to send to Parratt's lab over at USYD, to test for antibodies for autoimmune diseases. This will then be studied in conjunct with the data collected over 30 years.</TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ARmCMW-mL9A/VbIifNQxUrI/AAAAAAAAov8/oNt6XUcdKY4/s1600/Parratt%2Bat%2BRNS%2B047.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ARmCMW-mL9A/VbIifNQxUrI/AAAAAAAAov8/oNt6XUcdKY4/s640/Parratt%2Bat%2BRNS%2B047.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Every other Wednesday the neurology department at the hospital has a presentation. Parratt is hoping his team can work my history into a presentation as Professor Carolyn Sue will be present 2at the next one and she is an authority on <a href="http://www.amdf.org.au/">mitochondrial disease</a>, which my symtoms may also describe. <BR><BR>
Then another doctor was brought in who specialises in dystonia of the neck. Consensus all round that I exhibit locked/cramped neck muscles (hence the coughing) and affected eyelids, hence the blinking and the inability to keep my eyelids open. However, this chap reckons he can assist me by way of two <a href="http://www.dystonia.org.uk/index.php/about-dystonia/treatments/botulinum-toxin-injections">Botulinum toxin injections</a>, one in the neck and one in the forehead. Each injection has a cycle which takes 12 months. My hackles went up immediatelty, but I am keeping an open mind ... until I understand the details.<BR><BR>
There is also another conference, this time at the Park Hyatt, down at The Rocks, in the second half of August, when a visiting specialist from the UK will give the Keynote on movement disorders". Parratt intends to work up a video of my symptoms, and a PP of my tests, to present.<BR><BR>
So, let's see if any of this eventuates.<BR><BR>
<b>Note:</b> The images were all taken around the grounds of Royal North Shore Public Hospital, in St Leonards. I went into the chapel after my four hour session, for some peace and quiet. Only for a Mass to start within minutes. Both my children were born at this hospital, but I think that little maternity cottage, alack, is no more.</TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
"Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-20587342665320233772015-04-13T21:50:00.000+10:002015-04-13T21:50:17.077+10:00My little Easter Bunnies<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqxzg7a5uHi0n-Y9HOKMoMNPV9D0fpXhmXdAqk33PhNkxEQOwSVFzNHcxUFYZsb3AqlN_s2IoAJepCzl-Jm9OupgKExHOqZSSKFR-Es_EGK7n_HXvoNGxmzfRrqgt4H-fQU6LtoL_CF2j/s1600/Easter+Bunnies+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqxzg7a5uHi0n-Y9HOKMoMNPV9D0fpXhmXdAqk33PhNkxEQOwSVFzNHcxUFYZsb3AqlN_s2IoAJepCzl-Jm9OupgKExHOqZSSKFR-Es_EGK7n_HXvoNGxmzfRrqgt4H-fQU6LtoL_CF2j/s640/Easter+Bunnies+2015.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>It is School Holidays here at the moment. We have just started week 2 of a two week break. This is for Alannah who is in her second year of Pre-school. Juliet is at Day-care, and they only break over Christmas-New Year. Along with this, they both caught a bug over Easter which caused vomiting and yellow noses. Charming, reallyt!</TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2rpNI0sIN1BQn1OjTslqaJczfoYnpeSJONsFKY-KI8BiaOndMhzaGQbHo9Mwqt86N6EFtcd_LdebQPaYSoqSRjsJm32hMAl00_KDh7OiWyCZ3mThdX0pV6W9DnVtZRIk6AGD4zxVOWWjR/s1600/AlANNAH+CLIMBING+THE+cREPE+mYRTLE+(April%2B2015).jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2rpNI0sIN1BQn1OjTslqaJczfoYnpeSJONsFKY-KI8BiaOndMhzaGQbHo9Mwqt86N6EFtcd_LdebQPaYSoqSRjsJm32hMAl00_KDh7OiWyCZ3mThdX0pV6W9DnVtZRIk6AGD4zxVOWWjR/s640/AlANNAH+CLIMBING+THE+cREPE+mYRTLE+(April%2B2015).jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>We seem to be coping though, with minimal disruption to the work commitments of their parents. We are hreavily into drawing, Alannah and I. Not colouring in, but designing, and creating out own images. I will pull some in and show you where she is up to. I am quite pleased with her ability to deign and implement that design.<BR><BR>
The work on the left was completed in March, and on the right in April. This week her creations are being overwhelmed by the fact that I showed her how to do 2, 3, 5, and 8 the way they will in school next year. So these symbols are constantly cropping up in her drawings.</TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRAaTk9GpYomH9Bgl4q9936Ny50hU74nhyqoG47YzRVeKYK8uGiMlz47dYsYeoA9wGoAGPWfQf41nqGO03uACdEkzsfleYis15KlGcqg9GQnH6MgsdQIQKxDbHwfMaRWx6NAkmheX2qS2/s1600/Alannah+art+(March%2B2015).jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRAaTk9GpYomH9Bgl4q9936Ny50hU74nhyqoG47YzRVeKYK8uGiMlz47dYsYeoA9wGoAGPWfQf41nqGO03uACdEkzsfleYis15KlGcqg9GQnH6MgsdQIQKxDbHwfMaRWx6NAkmheX2qS2/s400/Alannah+art+(March%2B2015).jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GDO8YqoKV-8GFBryC1QHUQUHZIkjIefH1nowwsYSIIuIPo5GQjvA0Z-DL_Mc3A9CCgvg9kToSscDLI1M2J7CzxQAZQknDr3aGmf5utSKatr0lrhUzA9vhWNnUOq3amKSqDgtjpum_48l/s1600/April+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GDO8YqoKV-8GFBryC1QHUQUHZIkjIefH1nowwsYSIIuIPo5GQjvA0Z-DL_Mc3A9CCgvg9kToSscDLI1M2J7CzxQAZQknDr3aGmf5utSKatr0lrhUzA9vhWNnUOq3amKSqDgtjpum_48l/s400/April+2015.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Not to forget Juliet. When she is not adding the finishing touches to my masterpieces (she has learnt that her life is not worth fiddling with an Alannah masterpiuece!), she is going on a hectic circular scrawl as below. She holds a pen remarkably well, with good control. She
has only sucked the ink out of one texta that I know of, and is very careful about putting the lids back on.
</TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtUPX1ElDOyOnhRwYjeVPWU44IZbJx0H6SkMTeC0Kw4oSOW3M1flLzWlY3tV7q-ON-uP8Npk5ozSiS9EVDcHL0XZLHBLE7_QRlBdjP-3EOCp13NtfeavZGrc5sTnNuc9lCH2vvEiPDPh62/s1600/jULIET+AT+THE+TOP+OF+THE+DRIVE+(aPRIL%2B2015).jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtUPX1ElDOyOnhRwYjeVPWU44IZbJx0H6SkMTeC0Kw4oSOW3M1flLzWlY3tV7q-ON-uP8Npk5ozSiS9EVDcHL0XZLHBLE7_QRlBdjP-3EOCp13NtfeavZGrc5sTnNuc9lCH2vvEiPDPh62/s640/jULIET+AT+THE+TOP+OF+THE+DRIVE+(aPRIL%2B2015).jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXd-7VC_SGrB8FCsOXp_1WoFz2LFPTBARo52jA3J-o4Hp0WAU0OUV_7TJg1cLS-ZiqEbLGnn7EOQPU8ndWlCcvmjPU0kOdJOUmrSaoKVwF94NGb8IXMs_GXq8cJt83V6ynWDwdGQltIJu/s1600/Juliet+April+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXd-7VC_SGrB8FCsOXp_1WoFz2LFPTBARo52jA3J-o4Hp0WAU0OUV_7TJg1cLS-ZiqEbLGnn7EOQPU8ndWlCcvmjPU0kOdJOUmrSaoKVwF94NGb8IXMs_GXq8cJt83V6ynWDwdGQltIJu/s640/Juliet+April+2015.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-77394723768023857342015-03-21T23:02:00.001+11:002015-03-21T23:02:11.094+11:00The value of having one's marbles ...<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CdCe3zhEQDY/VQ1UMONACbI/AAAAAAAAmMw/OZUIRVaNI4M/s1600/Pieter%2B140.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CdCe3zhEQDY/VQ1UMONACbI/AAAAAAAAmMw/OZUIRVaNI4M/s400/Pieter%2B140.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=250>The words expleted out of him: "Boring? It's worse than boring."<BR><BR>As I turned the pages in the large print photograph album with Barry and Rosemary, I sensed movement offstage, right.<BR><BR> With an as inconspicuous swivel as I could manage without doing my befuddled head in, there was Pieter, slumped in his chair, his walker parked beside him, waving an iPad at me.<BR><BR> He beckoned me over, and to my astonishment, it was a State Records image of the Mark Foy department store from the good-old-days.</TD></TR></Table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=250>Bored out of his brain after just his first month in aged-care, he had listened in to our conversation across the way.<BR><BR> This centered on a 1952 image of three siblings, Barry, Julie, and Ross, visiting Santa Claus at Mark Foys, on the corner of Elizabeth and Liverpool Streets.<BR><BR> I, in true geek style, was trying to prove it was said store, by the logo imprinted on the wallpaper in the background.<BR><BR> I still have not proved this.</TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjw_-9EV2rLMcOLfxDNqmaHaYOB04O8FsCIRG9qr5VVi5MVkwLJfcXj_zBUCPkf35glEB_Yc-KnperxXNwmxmaf7J64T53PhLALnuYm7PdVtIq4eur6FP8JBm02KB8xSi8QJ8NKSx0jvn/s1600/03+BJR+with+Santa+(1952).jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAjw_-9EV2rLMcOLfxDNqmaHaYOB04O8FsCIRG9qr5VVi5MVkwLJfcXj_zBUCPkf35glEB_Yc-KnperxXNwmxmaf7J64T53PhLALnuYm7PdVtIq4eur6FP8JBm02KB8xSi8QJ8NKSx0jvn/s400/03+BJR+with+Santa+(1952).jpg" /></a></TD></TR></Table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uUzmtuuXdV0/VQ1ULH5xoYI/AAAAAAAAmMo/izWCI5Itn14/s1600/Pieter%2B148.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uUzmtuuXdV0/VQ1ULH5xoYI/AAAAAAAAmMo/izWCI5Itn14/s400/Pieter%2B148.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=250>Pieter's eyes twinkled as he bade me guess his age. Trying not to patronise, I guessed between eighty and ninety.<BR><BR> He squirmed with pleasure: "93 tomorrow". Mental note to self, here be a yardstick: accessing images from State Records Photo Investigator, on an iPad, in an aged care facility, aged 93.<BR><BR> Hearing the still thick brogue in his voice, I tried to formulate a question about his provenance, but, second guessing me, he chuckled: "Blood'n'guts Dutch". I had posited, perhaps, Swiss.</TD></TR></Table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=250>He was 16 and working in a dairy in the Netherlands, when the Nazi presence built up to such an extent, that his family knew they had to get out, even though they were not Jews.<BR><BR> Pieter arrived in Australia not long after the cessation of hostilities, and went to work for "Peter's Milk" at their headquarters somewhere down off Campbell Street, within cooee of Mark Foys.<BR><BR> And so the degrees of separation eased to a sliver.</TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINeEy6f01zMP3_uiOwDRI53rm4cizI-8L60B9b4hNpY_FHbi2FKB58V2XhP6jx17B2KP1rS_geWIs1CRVp5iwwlsha3SKqq_IZ3R4MlHUDCbAxxScP5V2-DOgsOKHEIjeQKGa7pCClpv-/s1600/Pieter+150.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINeEy6f01zMP3_uiOwDRI53rm4cizI-8L60B9b4hNpY_FHbi2FKB58V2XhP6jx17B2KP1rS_geWIs1CRVp5iwwlsha3SKqq_IZ3R4MlHUDCbAxxScP5V2-DOgsOKHEIjeQKGa7pCClpv-/s400/Pieter+150.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></Table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EnOz1vd_JVk/VQ1UH6PzRPI/AAAAAAAAmMg/muOf3lHlMWE/s1600/Pieter%2B153.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EnOz1vd_JVk/VQ1UH6PzRPI/AAAAAAAAmMg/muOf3lHlMWE/s400/Pieter%2B153.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=250>I asked if I may take his photograph.<BR><BR> He instantly made it a deal with the devil.<BR><BR> With a few practised swipes with his longnailed index finger, he raised his iPad, and we double-clicked.<BR><BR>The pleasure was all mine, Pieter.</TD></TR></Table>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-65621216416520969042015-01-24T16:53:00.000+11:002015-01-25T08:44:26.712+11:00Bowel Cancer Screening - FOBT and Colonoscopy<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQR_I-_0ibJKE8uhyGOGWOFSJCDHnT3-APTOCPZPUCxRxULNeAqVAbWx6G1X6nqyNuPhcu6lkYHUYyTagWl7Q_m7sLXPAON9XXqNvVfKFxwVhrZYNXcTiLt-4MUuMzhOP_V6QgR3AMTEAE/s1600/NorthShore_Private_Hospital.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQR_I-_0ibJKE8uhyGOGWOFSJCDHnT3-APTOCPZPUCxRxULNeAqVAbWx6G1X6nqyNuPhcu6lkYHUYyTagWl7Q_m7sLXPAON9XXqNvVfKFxwVhrZYNXcTiLt-4MUuMzhOP_V6QgR3AMTEAE/s640/NorthShore_Private_Hospital.jpg" /></a></TD><TD width=25></TD><TD width=350>The waiting is over. The results were all clear.<BR><BR>
No haemmoroids.<BR><BR>
No polyps.<BR><BR>
And, no cancer.</td></TR></TABLE><BR>
<table align=center><TR><TD width=350>I guess my wait was short in the grand scheme of things, but not in my mind. From mid-November to 23rd January.<BR><BR>
The weight that builds up is tremendous. And it is mostly carried singularly, and silently. <BR><BR>
For, really, what is there to talk about? <BR><BR>
No facts. Just fears.</TD><TD width=25></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixysrmB60oNCcBU9Xg1EUBpDcAb3DXAMRh4Yx0wXGsxbGH_5-SXEAMmLqhF8TouLAdlGTaVQ9k3IgoMEabWAhlMPdKi9cqrN9nO6DG4hC6j_Rr8Jb3aD0HCExRtuO5enFXuJXCQ_pEsoh1/s1600/WARDHI.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixysrmB60oNCcBU9Xg1EUBpDcAb3DXAMRh4Yx0wXGsxbGH_5-SXEAMmLqhF8TouLAdlGTaVQ9k3IgoMEabWAhlMPdKi9cqrN9nO6DG4hC6j_Rr8Jb3aD0HCExRtuO5enFXuJXCQ_pEsoh1/s640/WARDHI.jpg" /></a></td></TR></TABLE>
<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wEDEHS59_Oyy262xLosFyqupK5w3UcqBTWNhrFq9WDv2I7x2v4M65SgbTuoVG7qscURK1SzvMXn5N8s0OwRYAzNQUFfZLMZtSrPQoDAWhUZnQzKebV-a_7uqQ3Ut_BwU0L4hE-45n-uN/s1600/Sarah-Cho.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wEDEHS59_Oyy262xLosFyqupK5w3UcqBTWNhrFq9WDv2I7x2v4M65SgbTuoVG7qscURK1SzvMXn5N8s0OwRYAzNQUFfZLMZtSrPQoDAWhUZnQzKebV-a_7uqQ3Ut_BwU0L4hE-45n-uN/s320/Sarah-Cho.jpg" /></a></td><TD width=25></TD><TD width=640>The gastroenterologist was Sarah Cho, who was straight-forward and to the point, as am I. She was Sarah. I was Julie. I would not hesitate to have her again.<BR><BR>
I guess I will learn the name of the anaesthetist when I receive his invoice for services rendered. I was told that neither charged a Gap for Day Surgery. Let's see if they walk that talk. My excess to my insurer, Medibank Private, was $150. I pay $164 per month for my "Top Hospital" medical insurance. I understand from the press, that this will increase by 7% in the autumn.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<table align=center><TR><TD width=350>The hospital was North Shore Private, located adjacent to Royal North Shore which is a public (government) hospital. Hospitals in Sydney are a bit like McDonalds, and Kentucky Fried. They come in pairs, on a campus. I guess it makes it easier for medicos to double-shuffle. <BR><BR>
In June 2013, I spent 5 days in the public hospital with pneumonia. In June 2014, I spent 2 days in the public hospital with heart symptoms. In January 2015 I spent 4 hours in the private hospital for a minor procedure. Too much of a bloody pattern for mine! The private hospital was nice, but then so was the public one. It cost me nothing to go to the public hospital, even when I am delivered by ambulance.<BR><BR>
Yesterday, I took a taxi in each direction, costing about $22 each way. I have a booklet of 50% discount vouchers from the government due to my disability, so none of this is crippling ... mmm ... wrong choice of words, Jools.<BR></TD><TD width=25></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAfg0gRqqoZmHKOvCB1paIJn-f64P-QEzYUjIewGotRbylI4zddIFQpp7CNvzGyHZWPTxOZnCYMJS-mfem5N2XK7_3gUQEOHf4xGJ2RY32QRVP6ckjEplp7YNAio8j_9_gJ-lZN_cEMFVC/s1600/FOYER2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAfg0gRqqoZmHKOvCB1paIJn-f64P-QEzYUjIewGotRbylI4zddIFQpp7CNvzGyHZWPTxOZnCYMJS-mfem5N2XK7_3gUQEOHf4xGJ2RY32QRVP6ckjEplp7YNAio8j_9_gJ-lZN_cEMFVC/s640/FOYER2.jpg" /></a></td></TR></TABLE><BR>
<table align=center><TR><TD width=800>I am sitting back taking it easy this weekend. My intestines were absolutely voided, and it is painful to fill them up, trying to push out all the air they inflated them with to get their camera around the multitude of s-bends (now I understand what that s really stands for). I am also having trouble with my balance, more strife than usual. I thought I could just traipse into the city today to go to the Museum of Contemporary Art. I honestly believe I would have fainted with the effort.<BR><BR>
I asked both the nurse and the anaesthetist not to use Gentamicin. He was a bit taken-aback, saying one would only use that if the patient had some sort of patch in their body. I then told him about the teflon in my heart. And, BANG. I woke up in recovery.<BR><BR>
I have the Fecal Occult Bloods done again in two years, and if positive, have another Colonoscopy. I am not irritated by the false positives one little bit.</td></TR></TABLE>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-24158912349415489722015-01-11T06:18:00.000+11:002015-01-11T19:55:38.552+11:00The Water Diviner - good try, but no cigar<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPpkFqDhW0hRr95M-sUKW29GvGrInDDDN4zAlUQ53UKDHD8DfgAErcwBac4JNI4mRdJYiVNZgTeUchSneiSPRxSit2KXwAePmWTgFuXZfcliIKxIgtYSn-fdYmMbK9W1UK-h4IHWkH9k_/s1600/Crowe+on+horse.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPpkFqDhW0hRr95M-sUKW29GvGrInDDDN4zAlUQ53UKDHD8DfgAErcwBac4JNI4mRdJYiVNZgTeUchSneiSPRxSit2KXwAePmWTgFuXZfcliIKxIgtYSn-fdYmMbK9W1UK-h4IHWkH9k_/s640/Crowe+on+horse.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>I enjoyed this film, which I saw at Dendy Opera Quays at 9:30 Saturday morning. At that time there were very few people in the cinema, even though I'd had to queue for my ticket, so something was popular.<BR><BR>
Yes, I enjoyed the film, even though it is not even bordering on a classic. I suspect that both "The Imitation Game", and "Mr Turner" well and truly have the edge on it. This, however, is a ripping good yarn. Just like McCullough's "Thorn Birds" is a ripping good yarn - just don't read it after "Anna Karenina", which I did once, eons ago.<br><br>
There is mysticism in this film. Divining water with either a forked stick, or a pair of wire rods (Connors implement of choce) is pretty other worldly. When I lived on a farm as a wee slip of a thing, my father had a water diviner come in. Desperation will do that to one. His name was Charlie Asimus, and he stepped it out with his forked stick, much to our delighted sniggers. Dad had a machine did a hole, and found water. But it was brackish, and only of use to the veggie patch, not the house.<BR><BR>
But, Connor's mysticism extended further than just finding water. He had flashes of life "appear" to him. This happened while he was on the Gallipoli cliffs. I thought this to be one of the better parts of the film. However, once he realises one of his boys did not perish, the story gets away from Crowe. Crowe doesn't have much range in his facial expressions.<BR><BR>
There are many hints of Indiana Jones in this story, from the outfit that appears glued to Connor (sans whip), to the wild chase through the markets, to the scenes around Istanbul in general. The portrayal of another culture is fascinating, even though it is only the more wealthy parts of that culture that pervades the second half of the film. The scene in Istanbul's blue mosque, although gratuitous, is awesome, in the classical meanining of that word.<BR>
</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjez83D9YKwmP3TTC-QQ4rZfBh4pjP_J4u-ur34wM6iMDjq9tnTyD0N6yHLp97R4KBC9APmyQiAgkf8KJY_XKocoKO8rb57CaDMMGUSKq4N-7MUnOAOJSpAQUYKAIBtFj0L9bZKkFm8obXT/s1600/Ferries+at+CQ+024.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjez83D9YKwmP3TTC-QQ4rZfBh4pjP_J4u-ur34wM6iMDjq9tnTyD0N6yHLp97R4KBC9APmyQiAgkf8KJY_XKocoKO8rb57CaDMMGUSKq4N-7MUnOAOJSpAQUYKAIBtFj0L9bZKkFm8obXT/s640/Ferries+at+CQ+024.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Check for me please, but I think, right at the beginning of the film, the Turkish Major comes out of a tent, ready for the final charge in December 1915, sipping coffee. I felt certain he was sipping it from one of those modern cardboard cups, instead of whatever the Turks drank out of at that time.<BR><BR>
Joshua Connor (Crowe's character), had three boys who were at Gallipoli - Lone Pine actually, on 7th August, 1915. This, of course, is only early in the war, and the Army was still insisting that recruits be of full age. So, let's say Crowe's sons were 21, 23, and 25. This would make their father 50, give or take. Joshua is a water divineer, and well digger. He is a big bear of a man, but he is not battered enough. The part in his hair is bloody immaculate! Yes, yes. I know Crowe himself is 50. But the two lives could not be more different.<BR><BR>
It is in the chasing down of his still-surviving, elder son, that Crowe becomes unstuck. The shooting up of the train, and the mad chase by the marauding Greeks, down to the bullying of the British attache. Then the chase up the mountain, and jumping into the well to escape down the rushing mountain stream. Give me a break. The jump down the well nicely links back to the well Connor dug in western Victoria, but this, for mine, served to emphasise how far-fetched the story was becoming.<BR><BR>
Which leaves us with the boarding house in Istanbul. There didn't need to be a romantic interest. The little boy is important. The fact that many Turks did not like Australians is important. But introducing the woman detracts from the other meanings that Crowe might have been tying to tease out. And the final scene ... yetch! Crowe smiling his beautiful smile, with his gleaming pearly whites. He was a hard-scrabble farmer from the Wimmera area. Read some of the poems of <a href="http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/neilson-john-shaw-764">John Shaw Neilsen</a> for the complexity of this sort of life.<BR><BR>
I have an issue with the thick, sludge coffe at the end, too. When the woman "read" his empty cup, earlier in the story, Connor had had to swirl the coffee and gulp it down before giving her the cup, which she promptly turned upsidedowm. No sludge there. Yet, the sludge appeared at the end, even though its meaning eluded me. A host of little issues where Crowe was fashioning scenes on the fly.<BR><BR>
I would give this a 2.5 to 3. My next film will be "Still Alice". I have seen four films thus far this summer, so my next film at Dendy will be free.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSp2ZkzjeK7MCKPr4HAYIJ9CXRQZ9Q7U8bqKeziczBFUkXv-wSkjiYVYY_et9L3WH0AmBI1TjTOuXFXa-9ManekJ5YRZHUw9Hu6qV7WxdP0iiZy_IeMwoG_-r7X294mDxskSAgDovYUA1d/s1600/Crowe+the+diviner.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSp2ZkzjeK7MCKPr4HAYIJ9CXRQZ9Q7U8bqKeziczBFUkXv-wSkjiYVYY_et9L3WH0AmBI1TjTOuXFXa-9ManekJ5YRZHUw9Hu6qV7WxdP0iiZy_IeMwoG_-r7X294mDxskSAgDovYUA1d/s640/Crowe+the+diviner.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=200><b>Summer Cinema</b><BR><BR>
My Old Lady (22 Nov ****)<BR>
Mr Turner (21 Dec ****)<BR>
The Imitation Game (3 Jan ***)<BR>
The Water Diviner (10 Jan **^)</TD></TR></TABLE>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-56683079154493720172015-01-03T23:36:00.000+11:002015-01-03T23:36:55.396+11:00The Imitation Game lacks guts!<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XDiDbMQ4t0w/VKfHwWtEoGI/AAAAAAAAhzQ/Cf5MJfSdg74/s1600/Spring%2BStreet%2B177.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XDiDbMQ4t0w/VKfHwWtEoGI/AAAAAAAAhzQ/Cf5MJfSdg74/s640/Spring%2BStreet%2B177.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=25></TD><TD width=250>Being a film viewer, rather than a film maker, I hesitate to pan my second film in so many weeks. I am not an expert, but I do have opinions, and they must be given an out. So here goes ...<BR><BR>This film lacks structure and it lacks purpose. The creative folk scriptwriters, producers, director) had not bitten the bullet of the true enigma they were dealing with. The name of the film tells us that much. Talk about being hit in the face by a wet fish! <BR><BR>
This film would not have been made if Alan Turing had not been a homosexual. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dam_Busters_%28film%29">The Dam Busters</a> was made in 1955. So there can have been few state secrets involved with that one. But it was a straight forward action film. This one would have been harder to mould because it is about a bunch of geeks in a hut, working on a whirring machine. Turing's life-style and death, make the story interesting, give it a moral core. But they did not grasp this nettle.<BR><BR>
There are two tweaks with linear time. We are given the back story of Turing's first love at school: a boy named Christopher, who mysteriously died. This is done with a number of cumulative scenes. But all limp-wristed. Sex doesn't get a guernsey during the entire film.<BR><BR></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Turing's eventual arrest sort of book-ends the film. But Cumberbatch is not degraded enough, especially in the first book-end. Here is a man being chemically castrated, yet we only see the effects (both physical and psychological) in the final scenes. Life doesn't have book-ends. He needed to be under pressure in BOTH bookend scenes. The film is poor for these reasons. There are other issues, too.<BR><BR>
The creative team does not respect either its subject, or its audience. Beating around the bush about homosexuality is one aspect of disrespect. Another massive aspect is the filmic treatment of Joan Clarke. The way she is introduced is cringe-worthy, and bought guffaws from women in the audience. The worst scene of the entire film is where the moral crevasse yawns before them, of knowing the German's next move, and realising they cannot/shouldnot do anything to stop the slaughter of the innocents. So childish, and amateurish.<BR><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wuI9kWqmOQs/VKfJUx5_auI/AAAAAAAAhzc/rxNfn5iFsW4/s1600/Alan-Turing-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wuI9kWqmOQs/VKfJUx5_auI/AAAAAAAAhzc/rxNfn5iFsW4/s400/Alan-Turing-007.jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MqmB2aT6kNwkrXskI7bX3LAlDBIKjcccKHKi5Cdvq3WsxeNbnhvSnGsLLZQDHWbtGk5XCjJLd4lrYCdfWEDutE4EjLuFoPwp-mMFBlQsC19yvJRN9lqyfcshZNLevoW7FNiWjNzVfPjh/s1600/Joan_Clarke_(cryptanalyst).jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MqmB2aT6kNwkrXskI7bX3LAlDBIKjcccKHKi5Cdvq3WsxeNbnhvSnGsLLZQDHWbtGk5XCjJLd4lrYCdfWEDutE4EjLuFoPwp-mMFBlQsC19yvJRN9lqyfcshZNLevoW7FNiWjNzVfPjh/s400/Joan_Clarke_(cryptanalyst).jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
And the two leads: Benedict Cumberbatch, and Keira Knightley. Cumberbatch I have not seen in action before. Not once, be it on big screen, or small. He looks like a geek, and acted like a geek. Even when he gave out the apples. When he told the story of the bear, though, his sullen face creased momentarily with a cheeky smirk. Naughty, and should have done the scene again. When he degraded at the end, it was only his actor's face that dehgraded. He still was clean, with combed hair. No grime under his fingernails. This is not the fault of the actor, but of the creative team.<BR><BR>
And Knightly? I have seen her in a few other things, but here she was KK dressed dowdy. She still had that wiggle in her walk, and crack in her voice. Joan Clarke was a geek of a woman under the iron press of insular, provincial parents. <BR><BR>
Golly, I could only give this one 3 ...</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5zGOTGxJNtg/VKfHt_SSO-I/AAAAAAAAhy4/nXNecaKxICw/s1600/Spring%2BStreet%2B134.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5zGOTGxJNtg/VKfHt_SSO-I/AAAAAAAAhy4/nXNecaKxICw/s640/Spring%2BStreet%2B134.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-12290179773563264272014-12-31T20:19:00.002+11:002014-12-31T20:26:39.015+11:00The year ahead for "the girls"<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8eXKCL57kKg/VKOkXwiHDPI/AAAAAAAAhvY/wUeCGLdFKKs/s1600/1%2BSept%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8eXKCL57kKg/VKOkXwiHDPI/AAAAAAAAhvY/wUeCGLdFKKs/s400/1%2BSept%2B1.jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8IXVasSw5TOgLuVIVh0gkyJUTaZd6hsdgRlChyphenhyphenlXgKf7GYXzC3Eg1fKJ-obow4M7yyGqswsoKOikDYHhVDkpPyUpZp2yTm_3_aQVFEXOGkqPlL6aLQdersyat0HQ0brcOJ1bHnKD6kBG/s1600/2+Sept+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8IXVasSw5TOgLuVIVh0gkyJUTaZd6hsdgRlChyphenhyphenlXgKf7GYXzC3Eg1fKJ-obow4M7yyGqswsoKOikDYHhVDkpPyUpZp2yTm_3_aQVFEXOGkqPlL6aLQdersyat0HQ0brcOJ1bHnKD6kBG/s400/2+Sept+2.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>As we enter 2015, Alannah is 4 years, and 5 months; Juliet is 1 year, and 3 months.<BR><BR>
Alannah could have gone to "big school" in 2015, but she is one week older than the cut-off, which is end-July. Her parents have opted for her to spend another year at her Kindergarten-Union Pre-school. She will attend three days per week (up from the two days during 2014), with the majority of the children she spent 2014 with. On Thursdays she will continue to spend the day with Grandad. On Fridays, she will continue to spend the day at the same day-care cottage as Juliet, albeit in a separate building. She will spend most afternoons with me - from 3:30 onwards that is. One afternoon each term week, she is attending gymnastic classes, instead of the ballet she attended during 2014. Ballet was too free-form for Alannah, who thrives on knowing the rules and working within them. <BR><BR>
Juliet has a big change ahead of her, but as a second child, she is up for it. During 2014, she spent Fridays in long-day-care, and Wednesdays with Grandad. In 2015, she will spend three days (Wed/Thurs/Fri) in LDC. She will spend Tuesdays with Grandad, and Mondays home with me. We now have an Art House, but more on that when the project is completed next week.<BR><BR>
My daughter will be working 5 days per week, with an early morning start, and home by 5:30pm. My SiL will have a later morning start, and a later evening finish. Effectively, Darren does the morning shift, and Kirsten does the evening shift.<BR><BR>
My child-care has decreased markedly. However, I am available for sick days, and for Alannah's term breaks. I have two non-home-based activities in mind which I will check out early in the year. <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/why-new-years-resolutions-work-20141230-12ccrw.html"><b><i>My resolutions for 2015 are (read Peter Martin's article here)</i></b></a>:<blockquote><UL>
<LI>get all my Family Tree documents in order</LI>
<LI>collect and file my family history images</LI>
<LI>read fiction for an hour each evening</LI>
<LI>listen to more music</LI>
<LI>see a film either in the cinema, or at home, each week.</LI></UL></blockquote>
These resolutions, of course, are in addition to the "things" that I already manage to fit into my neurodegenerative head-space.
</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTxj0qZLbEw-rwimSJ_Eoc3FwG1W8cMysm9TyB23CflPFdYBtRWqeeF7L_9uAITp2vBLRkcjlcJrMeUD61FabTM3BEfD982wd3oVExFHsg3OtvcHZY6Y9npKk2Of22ZlQ8qiQvqxy0PrPI/s1600/4+26+Dec+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTxj0qZLbEw-rwimSJ_Eoc3FwG1W8cMysm9TyB23CflPFdYBtRWqeeF7L_9uAITp2vBLRkcjlcJrMeUD61FabTM3BEfD982wd3oVExFHsg3OtvcHZY6Y9npKk2Of22ZlQ8qiQvqxy0PrPI/s400/4+26+Dec+(1).jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApkH7S-B5aUaMjEq0wQK1M3u2NKGYjNEyuIB7ynOxYVF6Bt655ra7Hf4ZLeQujzQReMbRjaB9Ezy7rsZjZ_PW5VmAWLy6Y4-W0I8lygKG61x-L1uWV2SGkfmbliuqRBxPUzHkcnlTJkjK/s1600/3+28+Dec+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApkH7S-B5aUaMjEq0wQK1M3u2NKGYjNEyuIB7ynOxYVF6Bt655ra7Hf4ZLeQujzQReMbRjaB9Ezy7rsZjZ_PW5VmAWLy6Y4-W0I8lygKG61x-L1uWV2SGkfmbliuqRBxPUzHkcnlTJkjK/s400/3+28+Dec+(2).jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-46698063072913340032014-12-30T20:42:00.000+11:002014-12-30T20:45:54.527+11:00Mr Turner: more grist to the mill<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YcexmbKIatg/VKHfNjNxLcI/AAAAAAAAhr0/0MO9kxoYaNQ/s1600/Technique.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YcexmbKIatg/VKHfNjNxLcI/AAAAAAAAhr0/0MO9kxoYaNQ/s640/Technique.jpg" /></a><BR><BR><a href="http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2014/oct/27/films-about-painting-mr-turner"><b>A brush with Mr Turner - Why can't films about artists get the painting right?</b> [<i>An article by Andrew Wilton, chairman of The Turner Trust</i>]</a> </TD></TR></TABLE><BR>
<table align=center><TR><TD width=600>I read The Guardian a lot. I also read a lot of other online 'papers'. I stumbled upon this essay this morning. It is worth reflection. Prior to this film, I knew very little about J.M.W. Turner, the man. Nor about Turner, the artist. Now, I need to get a glossy book of his works and see if detail was his thing, or whether he just splattered and spluttered the paint across the canvas as Mike Leigh's film led me to believe.<BR><BR>
Last year, or the year before, I was asked if I "believed in climate change". Bit like being asked about God, or if one is a "progressive" or a "conservative". My response to the climate-change challenge (for that is what it was, not simply an innocent query), was that I put my trust in those who work in that field. I have no personal knowledge, but if 99% of the world's scientists with some qualification in a relevant discipline believe that the climate is changing, and that man's impact is causing that change, then that is worth taking seriously. <BR><BR>
It is the same with this film, which is an interpretation of a man's life, but presented in a matter which has a massive impact. The film leads me to believe that Turner was a beast who painted like a beast. Now, I have to reassess. The author of this article would appear to have experience and knowledge to backup his claims as to Turner's technique.<BR><BR>
If Mike Leigh and his team got this wrong, what else did they get wrong? Perhaps Turner was not a beast at all ...</TD></TR></TABLE>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-15121439819162582312014-12-21T22:51:00.002+11:002014-12-22T21:26:50.702+11:00Mr Turner: "The sun is God"<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7xG7I8aJpog/VJaqnkpJVNI/AAAAAAAAhiw/0lwkFDPmgzY/s1600/89U3166-Timothy-Spall-as-JMW-Turner-Turner-paints-in-his-studio.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7xG7I8aJpog/VJaqnkpJVNI/AAAAAAAAhiw/0lwkFDPmgzY/s640/89U3166-Timothy-Spall-as-JMW-Turner-Turner-paints-in-his-studio.jpg" /></a><BR><BR>
This is not an easy film. This is not a film to everyone's taste. Mr Turner was an oaf. Mr Turner was emotionally stunted; an egotist, who thought exclusively of his own wants, and needs. Many people walked out of this film. At 150 minutes, it is longer than most other films. I saw it at Dendy Opera Quays, and they, in their wisdom, kicked off with 30 minutes of adverts, and trailers. I went in at 10:30am and came out at 1:30pm. It is a very dense, challenging film, but it is never, not for an instant, boring.<BR><BR>
Tmothy Spall portrays Turner as repulsive, and ugly; with few social graces, except the knowledge of when to sit there and shut up. He grunts, and spits, and fucks his way around his London studio; around Nrs Booth's Margate boarding-house, and through the corridors and exhibition spaces of the Royal Academy. In comparison with a most earthy Turner, John Constable comes off as a nervous mannered middle-brow; John Ruskin is shown to be a prig, with an inflated sense of his own genius.<BR><BR>
And Mike Leigh does not explain why Turner is as he is. Leigh is not, never was, a preacher. He treats the viewers with respect, and leaves it to us to figure out. The story is linear, no flashbacks, no "Pulp Fiction" denseness. Everysooften, Spall utters a line about an event in his past. And with that we have to run. He mentions the death of his sister, and the madness, and death, of his mother. His London house-keeper fits in somewhere, as does the woman who asserts Turner sired her two children. The house-keeper degrades wonderfully from what appears to be VD. But this does not seem to affect Turner, who died of heart failure in his 70s. When one of the unacknowledged daughters drowns, Turner's first (and only) instinct is to grab his sketch-book. No idea why this scene is included; we already knew this about the man. And why does it end the way it does? Mrs Booth cleans the panes of her window, smiling in rembrance. The wizened house-keeper slouches around the London studio with its bounty of masterpieces.<BR><BR>
The saving grace of this film, is the way that Leigh tries to include his audience in the vision of Turner. He helps us to see what Turner saw, in the way that Turner saw it. And then we accompany Turner as he transforms this vision into a canvas. On his death-bed, Turner is reputed to have declaimed: "The sun is God". But really, it is light which is God. Nitpicking, I know, but light bounces, is refracted, is diffused. Turner's genius, was this perception of light, and his remarkable ability to get it down on canvas. He was more than just a painter of boats bobbing on the Thames.<BR><BR>
<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4rbtjpN5gT0Ykh33DDgyuhQv9e27DzoFyk6RyjvH16OxXGGtNqTtLKVUk55ZyzErulZg79k6NqY-gzeDj9ZL-EzSANGdodyUv8GUo7WoEQe9-CGZUevLDdkNCvdIkPpIGdstlP613vgE/s1600/jmw-turner.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf4rbtjpN5gT0Ykh33DDgyuhQv9e27DzoFyk6RyjvH16OxXGGtNqTtLKVUk55ZyzErulZg79k6NqY-gzeDj9ZL-EzSANGdodyUv8GUo7WoEQe9-CGZUevLDdkNCvdIkPpIGdstlP613vgE/s400/jmw-turner.jpg" /></a></TD><TD width=400>In a rambling response to Letty, I mentioned the daguerrotype made towards the end of Turner's life. I have found a painted reproduction og the photo that gives an idea of the physical appearance of the great p[ainter. The photo had been taken by Myall, who eventually twigged to who was sitting for him. I have seen other daguerrotypes of the same period, but not the original of this.</TD></TR></TABLE>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-91348802842482208092014-12-14T23:14:00.000+11:002014-12-14T23:14:37.538+11:00The bleeding obvious!<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuvnxZOsoIlTGPlehEZ59yCXRYQb3hO56CLzHfVNma6S6oWumSpKfp3gOMQPn4wkzZiTgfmX1-fl5FwVleMi3djfsHaEieJ2Oc3C0CuY5FeZcIyXTbRsQuExSCcGpDQzZh1Bf29exK5Yo7/s1600/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuvnxZOsoIlTGPlehEZ59yCXRYQb3hO56CLzHfVNma6S6oWumSpKfp3gOMQPn4wkzZiTgfmX1-fl5FwVleMi3djfsHaEieJ2Oc3C0CuY5FeZcIyXTbRsQuExSCcGpDQzZh1Bf29exK5Yo7/s400/3.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=400>I was telling you about my Bowel Screening. It came back positive. They don't actually use that word, because they would also have to use the word "negative", and that is too much of a statement. Suffice to say, my screening result was "Blood was found". I hot-footed it up to my GP, and she got me an appointment with a gastroenterologist. I saw Dr Sarah Cho this Friday just gone, and she booked me in for a colonoscopy for Friday 23rd January. This will be at Royal North Shore Private (RNS-P) hospital. If push comes to shove, and surgery is required, Sarah will perform it at Royal North Shore Public (RNH) hospital for me. She has assured me that both she, and the anaesthetist, do not charge a GAP for Day Surgery. Medibank Private maintains that all I will have to pay is the $150 excess. </TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=800>Sarah said that 30% of Bowel Screenings that detect blood, require further surgery. Not just surgery for bowel/rectum/colon cancer. It might be polyps that are bleeding. It might be internal haemmoroids. It might be Diverticulitis. If there are polyps, she will take them out during the colonoscopy. I will cross all these bridges at the end of January. The thing that looms large in my mind, is that right now my weight is hovering around the 41Kg mark I would like to think that at the end of January, my weight does not have a 3 at the front. Putting on weight is so difficult.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4J6Tj20GsYg/VI18jJhdQtI/AAAAAAAAhes/19nf_YDIFeU/s1600/2.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4J6Tj20GsYg/VI18jJhdQtI/AAAAAAAAhes/19nf_YDIFeU/s400/2.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=400>Now, there is another thing. To get my papers in order to see Dr Cho, I went through the papers for my Hysterectomy at Easter 2004. Prior to the hysterectomy, when they were trying to work out what was causing the back pain, the bloating and the vomiting, they ordered a colonoscopy. It didn't find much, just two small polyps, unformed and benign. They didn't find the 14x10x8 cyst, because that was attached to one of my ovaries, and looking up my rectum was not gonna find it, even though it was peachy-clean. I read the details of this Colonoscopy, and took a step backwards when I read that one of the medications administered was 160mg of Gentamycin. Now, Gentamycin is not only toxic to hearing, it is also toxic to the Vestibular System.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=800>I cannot find anywhere on the paperwork I have in my files, where it lists the medications administered during the hysterectomy. It was a long-ish operation, where they suctioned the tumour, and also removed both ovaries, the uterus, and the head of the vagina. I was in Prince of Wales Hospital (Randwick) from Easter Thursday, until Easter Sunday. This is four days. I know I was on Morphine (never again!), but I have no idea what else was carousing through my veins.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xhfcRDPrcYo/VI18kNqbFCI/AAAAAAAAhe0/OxuIGGRdpOU/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xhfcRDPrcYo/VI18kNqbFCI/AAAAAAAAhe0/OxuIGGRdpOU/s400/1.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=400>This was Easter 2004. My walking into things started AFTER that. I remember walking up Bourke Street, Surry Hills at a fair clip-clop as me were bordering on late for a film at Academy Twin in Paddington. I was living at Waterloo at the time. My friend became fed-up with me as I keep diverging from the usual strsight line and smacking into her. This would have been late 2005 or early 2006. I'd had the Peripheral Neuropathy since the late '80s, and the dry cough a similar length of time. The tinnutus was already there when I went for hearing aids 2005. When I worked at University o Technology (UTS) during 2005, they sent selected categories of staff in for physical checkups, one of which was standing on a platform on a ball. We stood on the platform which straddled a ball. The usual time before tumbling was a count of 10. I did not last for a count of 2. The assessor said I should get myself checked. I never did.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=800>Did the Gentamycin administered during my 2004 Colonoscopy affect my Vestibular System I must let my new neurologist know this new information. And I must request that Dr Sarah Cho not use Gentamycin during my 2015 Colonoscopy.</TD></TR></TABLE><BR><BR>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-23980848778983148332014-11-22T23:11:00.000+11:002014-11-22T23:11:23.225+11:00My type of old lady<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccWd5tQk52q34NusWtTxwcRxOXM0HSpIgSe4jMMWJpj5RC3EYpeghwLyoHtugyuiki61FKxMAnoaK5J8zKNmRXmvHxHwd65gBwI6qNhmOXU5rfV9q7UgqDt_7GM8AyRsFsAD484flqSZM/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjccWd5tQk52q34NusWtTxwcRxOXM0HSpIgSe4jMMWJpj5RC3EYpeghwLyoHtugyuiki61FKxMAnoaK5J8zKNmRXmvHxHwd65gBwI6qNhmOXU5rfV9q7UgqDt_7GM8AyRsFsAD484flqSZM/s640/0.jpg" /></a></TD><TD width=400>Often films about old people get confused, which on one level is understandable. <BR><BR>
Confused is better than trite, eg <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Best_Exotic_Marigold_Hotel">Best Exotic Marigold Hotel</a> (2012) <BR><BR>
Confused is better than false, eg <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quartet_%282012_film%29">Quartet</a> (2012)</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Not wanting to be tricked again, I read reviews of "My Old Lady" before chancing my arm. It ticked lots of boxes for me: set in Paris; with Maggie Smith; with Kristin Scott Thomas; and, with Kevin Kline. Smith I first saw in "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Travels_with_My_Aunt_%28film%29">Travels with my Aunt</a>" (1972). Scott Thomas I first saw in "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_English_Patient_%28film%29">An English Patient</a>" (1996). Kline I first saw in "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sophie%27s_Choice_%28film%29">Sophie's Choice</a>" (1982).</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cFcY6IHDJYP9RCZlJLVscENRYpZII_4SKfLMcpfWQX94bioR3SMJrYEdZl4U2ocf17gVcuvlGXnAK0_3tR9W2Homh_uZtZWkS5SX9gAHpcSxbVMfK-AMQvFAiVIxcN4hK3KVJau3pvlR/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cFcY6IHDJYP9RCZlJLVscENRYpZII_4SKfLMcpfWQX94bioR3SMJrYEdZl4U2ocf17gVcuvlGXnAK0_3tR9W2Homh_uZtZWkS5SX9gAHpcSxbVMfK-AMQvFAiVIxcN4hK3KVJau3pvlR/s320/2.jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f3-aiiZM3hg/VHB4LhQgMEI/AAAAAAAAhDo/wm08aGZbmcU/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f3-aiiZM3hg/VHB4LhQgMEI/AAAAAAAAhDo/wm08aGZbmcU/s320/1.jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFuXsJNLEJVMW3cqS_taCjAn5NSeWs_MZJ6eWt9J_VoIDPnqpxsrgNPE9IYfBx04oqpHrzaMpxiDKNvq7kH9slUR2tuqXQL9g7QtEQxfr5ygl-NJUjGIqoOXKfVPISSo1qDsC4zpRdeEp/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFuXsJNLEJVMW3cqS_taCjAn5NSeWs_MZJ6eWt9J_VoIDPnqpxsrgNPE9IYfBx04oqpHrzaMpxiDKNvq7kH9slUR2tuqXQL9g7QtEQxfr5ygl-NJUjGIqoOXKfVPISSo1qDsC4zpRdeEp/s320/3.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>But, would the script treat the actors with respect? Would it manipulate the setting, to ensure it carried an American audience with it? Would the story have layers, that are gradually peeled back, or be one-dimensional and obvious? I am not fond of romantic comedies, as generally they are not funny. I do not like films that are neatly tied come the credits. I like to walk out of the cinema with options to mull over.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqxlLwB7yTih_K9R82b2DuOd5Ttjr8-F3vVXgIuflinE8ZP9Mij1ROpUhsrdhxjmtVag3CKhQZ2n9UTIR1DR4D_sLvQ2rA__3jS7LQHqk6b9-MesX7yPIH8QZlcC3FNAPOdq78NqH64VY/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqxlLwB7yTih_K9R82b2DuOd5Ttjr8-F3vVXgIuflinE8ZP9Mij1ROpUhsrdhxjmtVag3CKhQZ2n9UTIR1DR4D_sLvQ2rA__3jS7LQHqk6b9-MesX7yPIH8QZlcC3FNAPOdq78NqH64VY/s400/5.jpg" /></a></TD><TD width=400>Margaret & David were not much help, on this occasion. She wanted to hit the characters, and shake them out of their maudlin self-pity. A review in The (English) Telegraph though the film to be "a tedious waiting game". Now this was looking up ... I like films where little happens. Doors slamming, and people running, and shouting, do NOT a film make. I read The Guardian a lot, but their reviewer thpought the film a "confection". I wonder if that meant soft and fluffy, or whether it meant totally made up. I finally decided to give the film a go once I read a review in <a href="http://www.heraldsun.com.au/lifestyle/melbourne/leigh-paatschs-movie-reviews-best-new-flicks-and-cinema-events-in-melbourne/story-fnpbvxki-1227121721116">The Herald-Sun by Leigh Paatsch</a>. Blimey, I thought to myself, the Herald_sun. I was scraping the bottom of the barrel of the Murdochracy!</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Paatsch said, "This is sensible, straightforward mature-age viewing, devoid of dumb jokes, cheap thrills or goofy gimmicks".<BR><BR>
So, I wobbled off down to Dendy Opera-Quays for the midday session. My stomach no longer churns when I see the age of the audience, and the sea of grey in front of me. I keep my opinions to myself, and silently judge any poor, old biddy who dares voice hers! Hypocracy, thy name is self!</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPrAInvmU7cDKqY3oUR_XsASDqxPXrXjOLtOnOEto2CV2kPiX8pncx7B2N5fk92jGmvZOJLjhfQiEVLVHEMjgwNRgb2vLYHE6dSjCsOk2_TG9MRSf_dnU5UkwrIk1G75GHifft6vZI3ET/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPrAInvmU7cDKqY3oUR_XsASDqxPXrXjOLtOnOEto2CV2kPiX8pncx7B2N5fk92jGmvZOJLjhfQiEVLVHEMjgwNRgb2vLYHE6dSjCsOk2_TG9MRSf_dnU5UkwrIk1G75GHifft6vZI3ET/s400/4.jpg" /></a></TD><TD width=400>I was engrossed. The setting, the Marais, and both Parc Royale, and Square George Cain, along Rue Payenne. was woven seamlessly into the story. The ensemble was truly fine, although there was a touch of the original play in the structure of the narrative. I do not think the final scene was necessary. I would have ended with Smith looking down from that stunning observatoire as Kline topped his father's headstone with a pebble. There was a bit of a rush to tie up some loose ends before the credits, eg the blood test, and the viager contract. A blood test takes weeks to get a result, yet the slimey solicitor had three days to void the contract.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=600>As I blinked my way out onto Sydney Cove, I recalled Scott Thomas' Chloe saying at the beginning, "My mother's a liar. She's 92". One of the joys of this film is that it is difficult to determine what is truth, what is wishful thinking, and what is just sheer confusion, brought on by old age. Which is where I came in ... <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/atthemovies/txt/s4125088.htm"></a></TD></TR></TABLE>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-88554299483522997742014-11-20T12:54:00.000+11:002014-11-20T12:54:36.307+11:00Sous jardinier<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c48roinjPBM/VGyEm6KEVfI/AAAAAAAAhA4/OX7WFwS4mLk/s1600/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c48roinjPBM/VGyEm6KEVfI/AAAAAAAAhA4/OX7WFwS4mLk/s300/1.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=25></TD><TD width=400>My assistant was out and about today. I suspect her greatest joy is clambering atop the raised garden bed to work, whereas Ma has to stay at ground level.<BR><BR>
While Juliet loves peas, Alannah is more inclined to eat raw beans. Juliet likes them, too, but she likes everything, even to the extent of eating my small, green capsicums straight from the bush, seeds, membrane and all. So, just for premiere petite-fille I have a row of Butter-beans starting to flower. <BR><BR>
Yes, that is my cardy she has pilfered. It was a strange old day today, never quite taking on the mantle of summer. But she is wearing the milk-maid cap because the sun was too hot on her head. Mine, too. Go figure.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=300>The garden is looking a treat again.<BR><BR>
I have less time to tend it than last year, but I am clueier - is that even a word? I have learnt to strike my own seedlings, and to even toss them if I happen on a purple-patch where the germination rate is greater than the promised 85%.<BR><BR>
And I only plant 4 or fewer at a time. I was greedy with my Zucchini, and planted two per 40cm pot. This was sufficient for nutrition but not sufficient space for a vine, and they are strangling each other.<BR><BR>
I am working upon some posts for over at <a href="http://extendedfamilyliving.blogspot.com.au/">Ginger-Bread-Tales</a>.<BR><BR>
</TD><TD width=25></TD><TD><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mHmqqRsmMvQ/VGyEn3WoFSI/AAAAAAAAhBA/sweNY7JOpaM/s1600/Harvesting%2Bbeans%2B050.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mHmqqRsmMvQ/VGyEn3WoFSI/AAAAAAAAhBA/sweNY7JOpaM/s400/Harvesting%2Bbeans%2B050.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-35086470430691073482014-11-17T21:10:00.000+11:002014-11-17T21:10:20.925+11:00Pop!<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-321VM8pMeOg/VGnFjZtXzBI/AAAAAAAAg9k/r2jXbv1gMzY/s1600/On%2Bthe%2Bporch%2B032.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-321VM8pMeOg/VGnFjZtXzBI/AAAAAAAAg9k/r2jXbv1gMzY/s640/On%2Bthe%2Bporch%2B032.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<table align=center><TR><TD width=600>Last evening, in the kitchen, as dinner was being prepared, Juliet toddled over to me with a round-runner bean shouting "Pop!" She was totally distressed when I tried to explain to her that beans do not go Pop!. Only peas go Pop! <BR><BR>
For six weeks or so now, we have been eating, fresh from the trellis mostly, podding peas which have a resounding Pop! Juliet, especially loves them. She loves the taste, She loves nibbling them from the pod. She loves crunching into the pod. She STILL laughs, and anticipates, the sound as I gently depress the curve near the growth end of the pod.<BR><BR>
So, of course, last night, we all toddled out to the veggie patch and Alannah pulled some pods fresh from the trellis. Just for her. Today, Juliet and I sat on our stools on the front porch overlooking the veggie patch, as she nibbled a few more.<BR><BR>
Don't like to think of the ruckus she will kick up when I pull the podding peas out next week. They have had their time in the sun. Time to make way for a variety more amenable to the heat that is upon us.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59lSsRTk5J3IXx2Mu8GSQGRmxtPt8g5pKC-t0kJrnAsaducU0Hz2aRQ4O4Q_qvq2mLnXymY0j_giIPR-thZPnD4ZdplOrjmAgZMLDL1KcEjzOqT-XahsSIZZWUMouJY-CSF0PyGHT89zm/s1600/On+the+porch+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59lSsRTk5J3IXx2Mu8GSQGRmxtPt8g5pKC-t0kJrnAsaducU0Hz2aRQ4O4Q_qvq2mLnXymY0j_giIPR-thZPnD4ZdplOrjmAgZMLDL1KcEjzOqT-XahsSIZZWUMouJY-CSF0PyGHT89zm/s640/On+the+porch+030.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-25611227937749135002014-11-08T10:29:00.000+11:002014-11-08T10:29:06.156+11:00From bowel to bowl ...<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hk09QRTEJFI/VF1EQyZGP-I/AAAAAAAAgvA/cRsFfNAZuR8/s1600/Bowel%2B001.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hk09QRTEJFI/VF1EQyZGP-I/AAAAAAAAgvA/cRsFfNAZuR8/s400/Bowel%2B001.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=25></TD><TD width=500>A cousin has been diagnosed with bowel cancer, and her rectum will be resected next Tuesday morning, Remembrance Day. Discussing it with another cousin, I learned that, since her mother had survived bowel cancer 21 years ago, aged 71, she has followed a screening regime: occult bloods annually, and a colonoscopy every three years. So, yesterday I toddled off to my GP.<BR><BR>
It has been a traumatic week on a number of fronts. I have taken on way too much here at home, but if you know me, you will understand that is simply par for the course. Kirsten has now reorganised our arrangement. I was getting very weary, and tumbled into bed each evening exhausted. My weight has dropped down to 41 kgs, and my balance is "fragile". My area of the house will be separated from the rest, with the girls not just walking in whenever. I am not to do cleaning, or washing (other than my own), and I have been allocated two days of childcare only, which is similar to that allocated to Grandad. Not so much child-care as a visit.</TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=500>At the GP, not only did I enquire about bowel health, how to assess iut, and how to maintain it, but I also agreed to return to the neurology circuit for a second opinion. I am not convinced by the diagnosis of CANVAS, and really need for my suspicions of Parkinsons to be eliminated.<BR><BR>We discussedsymptoms, with the conclusion that I am asymtomatic. We discussed the risk factor. No first degree relative has been diagnosed. I am not over-weight. My diet contains roughage, and veggies. I do not smoke, and my alcohol intake is down to a glass per month ... otherwise my balance is a joke! So, asymptomatic, and low-risk. I am, however, 66 years of age. So, let's get a plan.<BR><BR>Unfortunately, medical testing needs to be cost effective, otherwise everyone would have a colonoscopy every year, and this would simply not be an effective allocation of resources. Colonoscopies are effective investigative tools for about seven years. Bowel cancer is slow-growing as the patient ages. The older the patient the more likely the cancer is found before it is too far gone. So, occult bloods are used to narrow down the population who require a colonoscopy.<BR><BR> I had a colonoscopy in 2003, because I had pain in the stomach, and around the kidneys. It came up clear. They were not to know that there was a tumour growing on my ovary! Not using a colonoscopy!<br><BR></TD><TD width=25></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYi4S0RytQDraYTGbEUEaLd3x_wAvXHbbzODy7zWvHI0gpuTLWQMNmXxG3Kd4_mOGQfbCuvD_1xeUF1GAzHdAppds9oaCs3XuiHpRDR_mg7ZHwGDeiCpWCs2cTGKFK4vRoHeeNBSedTlP/s1600/Bowel+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYi4S0RytQDraYTGbEUEaLd3x_wAvXHbbzODy7zWvHI0gpuTLWQMNmXxG3Kd4_mOGQfbCuvD_1xeUF1GAzHdAppds9oaCs3XuiHpRDR_mg7ZHwGDeiCpWCs2cTGKFK4vRoHeeNBSedTlP/s400/Bowel+005.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VpAgt3E-vWsX7R-HPuswSDNky_NVnQfzBQKoMWNJDwkJVEZ7GIC-oVxUjBR0AYFiQ7iNu-URljgGMT0gxBx3fNschzwW9Mn-dddQTKsWIgd85W7GLbs5_HhbJMzHoYcdlc3JwEX8PH3S/s1600/Stool+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_VpAgt3E-vWsX7R-HPuswSDNky_NVnQfzBQKoMWNJDwkJVEZ7GIC-oVxUjBR0AYFiQ7iNu-URljgGMT0gxBx3fNschzwW9Mn-dddQTKsWIgd85W7GLbs5_HhbJMzHoYcdlc3JwEX8PH3S/s400/Stool+001.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=25></TD><TD width=500>Of every 30 patients who have occult bloods done, one patient will need to have a colonoscopy. This is the average for Australia. Occult blood results are "valid" for about three years. Therefore, my GP recommends that I have an occult-blood screening every three years, and I might never need a colonoscopy. The screening company will send me an annual questionaire. As well as the results going to him (Stephen), they will ome to me also. <BR><BR> He listened to my qualms about my neurologic diagnosis. I was more a researc subject, than a patient. I was given the "mushroom" diagnosis. How serendipitous was it that I should end up in the clinic of the very neurologist who had defined, and named, the CANVAS Syndrome. All the symptoms that I show are also symptoms of Parkinsons Disease. Stephen said he did not think it disrespectful to get a second opinion. One of the pitfalls of modern medicine, is that other doctors simply accept the diagnosis of their celebrated peer without question. Dr John Parratt is a neurologist at Royal North Shore Hospital who specialises in Multiple Sclerosis. He will get me started on a second opinion.<BR><BR>Now, I am just waiting around for a stool ...</TD></TR></TABLE>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-68965615956070273802014-11-04T20:52:00.001+11:002014-11-04T20:52:30.203+11:00While the cat's away ...<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F4UNc3zWAOg/VFDAhMGUsdI/AAAAAAAAgS4/QsSznn2B4kM/s1600/Ma%2BCare%2BTues%2B28%2BOct%2B094.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F4UNc3zWAOg/VFDAhMGUsdI/AAAAAAAAgS4/QsSznn2B4kM/s320/Ma%2BCare%2BTues%2B28%2BOct%2B094.JPG" /></a></TD><TD><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ys_LPI7NAO8/VFDAjvq3gOI/AAAAAAAAgTA/dfFWdMK7rEw/s1600/Ma%2BCare%2BTues%2B28%2BOct%2B099.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ys_LPI7NAO8/VFDAjvq3gOI/AAAAAAAAgTA/dfFWdMK7rEw/s320/Ma%2BCare%2BTues%2B28%2BOct%2B099.JPG" /></a></td></tr></table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=500>These are not the most technically brilliant shots in the world, as they were taken with my old phone, which is slow, and shows up all my inability to hold it still.</td></tr></table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTtLpiNM9x1wpawyDmIqyrXB65Fj0BR0K7ovCjxUCJzXu0J1qYrmQMCsxOO6JgZYRRD10brWckLr73VLCIxMWR4wIy-Aii46uBoNoUFOIGupd_YDyhbE25Q1ccxJi4JBS9zX2wUURj9_4/s1600/Ma+Care+Tues+28+Oct+102.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRTtLpiNM9x1wpawyDmIqyrXB65Fj0BR0K7ovCjxUCJzXu0J1qYrmQMCsxOO6JgZYRRD10brWckLr73VLCIxMWR4wIy-Aii46uBoNoUFOIGupd_YDyhbE25Q1ccxJi4JBS9zX2wUURj9_4/s320/Ma+Care+Tues+28+Oct+102.JPG" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcqS23lvbX6k7byGTT6A2EJAbpM12IwMK13DYAX7vWjw9DIhOhXOTjtsy1Jc4dTAYa8-7rX2jXNXIW4MwYxmDOLoN2OV6_rq4mjymFENDuhOyZOnCXwrHLZLFgJcB9NC05FD0QGx93pKEV/s1600/Ma+Care+Tues+28+Oct+103.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcqS23lvbX6k7byGTT6A2EJAbpM12IwMK13DYAX7vWjw9DIhOhXOTjtsy1Jc4dTAYa8-7rX2jXNXIW4MwYxmDOLoN2OV6_rq4mjymFENDuhOyZOnCXwrHLZLFgJcB9NC05FD0QGx93pKEV/s320/Ma+Care+Tues+28+Oct+103.JPG" /></a></td></tr></table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=500>However, the story they tell is a delight. The dressing table is Alannah's 4th birthday pressie from her Mama and Papa.</td></tr></table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kmpHykgkgeY/VFDArhdCKHI/AAAAAAAAgTY/xGLFT1yHxTM/s1600/Ma%2BCare%2BTues%2B28%2BOct%2B104.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kmpHykgkgeY/VFDArhdCKHI/AAAAAAAAgTY/xGLFT1yHxTM/s320/Ma%2BCare%2BTues%2B28%2BOct%2B104.JPG" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNoPwb3gvMqphnuQHw_3JyoJH_N7GcflLQ6_dXHYKaMBlxV6pT7WhntaGfu4USciSzdDdvszQA3MSYFDZUCzkYbl193wtQslOtAuNXF9QyAVcL-A1am52zwHp_Wnu-7iilGi9ZTQwyG4Y0/s1600/Ma+Care+Tues+28+Oct+105.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNoPwb3gvMqphnuQHw_3JyoJH_N7GcflLQ6_dXHYKaMBlxV6pT7WhntaGfu4USciSzdDdvszQA3MSYFDZUCzkYbl193wtQslOtAuNXF9QyAVcL-A1am52zwHp_Wnu-7iilGi9ZTQwyG4Y0/s320/Ma+Care+Tues+28+Oct+105.JPG" /></a></td></tr></table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=500>Juliet is thirteen months old. Alannah was at pre-school. Shhh ...</td></tr></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-30907896018257499142014-10-30T20:35:00.003+11:002014-10-30T20:35:59.368+11:00Fighting fit at 90<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYV8-0DCuBfOltbvkLvXipe0CIvP5gC9AX22Gx4iHqHFuCMaYUx_Mvii4EIIKTDQKQp9vnLivLq9xzUkUZfDqxRQzHOODNfzhRuwxhEoUYZfMORoxiCPfSGZ0v0RLD8Ex4S-uuXhBzLbY/s1600/IMG_6204.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYV8-0DCuBfOltbvkLvXipe0CIvP5gC9AX22Gx4iHqHFuCMaYUx_Mvii4EIIKTDQKQp9vnLivLq9xzUkUZfDqxRQzHOODNfzhRuwxhEoUYZfMORoxiCPfSGZ0v0RLD8Ex4S-uuXhBzLbY/s640/IMG_6204.JPG" /></a></td></tr></table><Table align=center><TR><TD width=320><EM><Small>Ross, Mildred, Barry, Julie</Small></EM></td></tr></table><BR>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=500>Mildred will be 90 on Saturday, having been born in 1924. She is my father's first cousin, making her also my first cousin, once removed. She lives in the same aged-care village as does my brother, and has done so for 21 years. Mildred lives in the "village" whereas Barry is in "high-care". We had morning tea with her on Saturday and magged for two hours. <BR><BR>
In the middle of 1950, when Ross was born, Mildred looked after Barry and I, as well as her own two, Rhonda and Graeme. Apparently, I came down with measles first, rapidly followed all the others. However, her "fondest" memory was of the faecal wall art I presented to her.<BR><BR>
Not only was Mildred my father's cousin, she married my father's best friend - Bill - in 1944. Dad and Mildred corresponded while he was stationed at Milne Bay during 1942-43. Bill saw her photo and asked if he could write to her, too. Bill died from an aneurysm in 1987. Mildred has two childred, 7 grandchildren, and 9 great-grandchildren. When they all get togther, that is quite a crowd.<BR><BR>
Happy Birthday, Mildred!!</td></tr></table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtZ4XxqpUlwx89KMtU4AbB8nJXwf2RNW8_dC_o0msfmbN-sOu-O1B7Uz37BafywyhUQbMXme1dG0ogr0tQdEN8rfPIipH9F0015gNLn7XC4bb34_24lLU5EMoOr-QZXk_7y1gY6h-ocs3/s1600/Family+Reunion+image+disk+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtZ4XxqpUlwx89KMtU4AbB8nJXwf2RNW8_dC_o0msfmbN-sOu-O1B7Uz37BafywyhUQbMXme1dG0ogr0tQdEN8rfPIipH9F0015gNLn7XC4bb34_24lLU5EMoOr-QZXk_7y1gY6h-ocs3/s320/Family+Reunion+image+disk+003.jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVm4YEy-Kimqwua33z71ELN5Aeek-eJJVBdvcMbkXXwEvoY2zoDmTPewHOGdPfkQjzsP0QyWthMQ8F1DC5FeZc0Kfnx-shObFS_Qrz4KkeyPwHF3JSUUrkSDe2kqDg7U7nDUUiuzUcFUF/s1600/Family+Reunion+image+disk+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVm4YEy-Kimqwua33z71ELN5Aeek-eJJVBdvcMbkXXwEvoY2zoDmTPewHOGdPfkQjzsP0QyWthMQ8F1DC5FeZc0Kfnx-shObFS_Qrz4KkeyPwHF3JSUUrkSDe2kqDg7U7nDUUiuzUcFUF/s320/Family+Reunion+image+disk+004.jpg" /></a></td></tr></table><Table align=center><TR><TD width=320><EM><Small>(L): Mildred with Pa Cole, 1926; (R): Mildred in the Army, 1943</Small></EM></td></tr></table>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-40274939055885875162014-10-26T22:45:00.000+11:002014-10-28T11:08:03.110+11:00Unlearning how to walk<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheI0hpU-oRyaCGG7Qj0Yad0nKKlVXev2cK3-8B-rQonKCUO-Ly4lHsH8a_kfYgBoCfM2WT5alYXIG1ona66yz12lvyKxYGyBEwQHUADlkUFHWniUGUV-EttZmKCFunWPz7GPQtKVP8Ch9z/s1600/IMG_6232.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheI0hpU-oRyaCGG7Qj0Yad0nKKlVXev2cK3-8B-rQonKCUO-Ly4lHsH8a_kfYgBoCfM2WT5alYXIG1ona66yz12lvyKxYGyBEwQHUADlkUFHWniUGUV-EttZmKCFunWPz7GPQtKVP8Ch9z/s400/IMG_6232.JPG" /></a></TD><TD width=150></TD><TD width=250> Today, at the beach, Alannah was doing a great job of slopping jellyfish into her bucket, but she wanted someone to hunt them out with. By the time the water was half-way up to my knees, I knew I was in strife. The tide had just ebbed, but the tug was negligible. It was the sloshing more than anything. Not the noise, but the impermanence of the surface. I did not fall, but it took all my effort to remain upright, and to head for the sand. It left an indelible impression from which I am still suffering 12 hours later. An immense weariness, and insecurity.</TD></TR></TABLE><BR><BR>
I suffer from bilateral vestibulopathy.<BR>
I suffer from cerebral ataxia.<BR>
I suffer from peripheral neuropathy. But, I am wise enough to wear a pair of reef shoes.<BR>
But, I shall probably not go into the water again, unless it is dire, and even then, I know I will be unable to assist.<BR><BR>
Just this week I found some posters on the Ataxia (UK) site that reinforced <a href="http://jstorry.blogspot.com.au/2014/04/continuity-fields.html">something I had been trying to explain in my own amateurish way back in April this year.</a> A graphic artist developed this series of posters to explain the vision proplems that ataxia suffers endure. I include four of them here:
<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rmXk6uArV94/VEzahSi6W8I/AAAAAAAAgNQ/g0hn5uf261s/s1600/Al_425.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rmXk6uArV94/VEzahSi6W8I/AAAAAAAAgNQ/g0hn5uf261s/s400/Al_425.jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vc_jJJxwOdg/VEzai-s4HZI/AAAAAAAAgNk/18PA6H6qM_0/s1600/Lali_425.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vc_jJJxwOdg/VEzai-s4HZI/AAAAAAAAgNk/18PA6H6qM_0/s400/Lali_425.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1mvfrZmUebRX0GcCg4_0Sk5IWLnCGLcK4EWMblAv6g-8X39fuXGZ0zPqox5jNpTX9sIp-gS4TfUmE_LA-BR8CnRh-7DgOafG95bFNcNLf8_gd_5T4yKlCH0edkVsV9o9VTp5eSlBi1c1/s1600/Orlando_425.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp1mvfrZmUebRX0GcCg4_0Sk5IWLnCGLcK4EWMblAv6g-8X39fuXGZ0zPqox5jNpTX9sIp-gS4TfUmE_LA-BR8CnRh-7DgOafG95bFNcNLf8_gd_5T4yKlCH0edkVsV9o9VTp5eSlBi1c1/s400/Orlando_425.jpg" /></a></TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRiOKBlxB6i57v3hzQLBPRmXgjFf6hb937UpzmPQ4sUTPTW7QpZYRd9bOI1J6sdv2WiXwpTTlRjNIPg8VqHXTtZ30iGIXi0OK0nypx7sMPfWkBYovHeoW4g9d3b7MSRAPRWE2RCu88aYL/s1600/Harriet_425.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZRiOKBlxB6i57v3hzQLBPRmXgjFf6hb937UpzmPQ4sUTPTW7QpZYRd9bOI1J6sdv2WiXwpTTlRjNIPg8VqHXTtZ30iGIXi0OK0nypx7sMPfWkBYovHeoW4g9d3b7MSRAPRWE2RCu88aYL/s400/Harriet_425.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></TABLE>
I watch Juliet, as she wobbles across the floor, and know how she feels.<BR><BR>
<b>Addendum</b><BR>
I have been thinking about these graphic representations of my declining sight. What I see -or don't see - is not what YOU see here. I do not see colours, nor do I see part of the image displaced in this way. The part of the image that is displaced is just gone - empty. It doesn't sit out there. It is just gone. I do not get the whole picture, there are lateral fingers that have been removed. Say, for instance, that I am looking for my phone. Unless my head is totally still - TOTALLY - I do not get information. When looking for something, one "sweeps" the landscape, yes? This just means that the lateral fingers of missing image are constantly moving. Hence, I have visual information deficit, AND my head gets very confused, causing me to fall or clutch for something to steady it all.
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-29224662188554759232014-10-24T21:33:00.001+11:002014-10-24T21:33:35.651+11:00My girls<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOA5p5IyyKN4KserphgvlDUUdZgUIKdI8qfiGkQw6nT8R4vQ6HYzQRDhDrnnIyznm-iOTUYlNySrHRJSXH2MFZPJvgsCQUeGaqUfiTtIwTxIw4sujZt23xlwAJPAalrxOh5t9nMEO-AvpK/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOA5p5IyyKN4KserphgvlDUUdZgUIKdI8qfiGkQw6nT8R4vQ6HYzQRDhDrnnIyznm-iOTUYlNySrHRJSXH2MFZPJvgsCQUeGaqUfiTtIwTxIw4sujZt23xlwAJPAalrxOh5t9nMEO-AvpK/s640/1.jpg" /></a></TD></TR></Table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=300>Kirsten (35), Juliet (1), and Alannah (4)</TD></TR></Table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-54876570699443985852014-10-21T20:34:00.000+11:002014-10-21T20:34:55.626+11:00From the roof of a tram<Table align=center><TR><TD><iframe width="640" height="480" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Ifnto7jIW2A" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></TD></TR></Table><Table align=center><TR><TD width=420><EM><Small>A 1906 bird's-eye view of George Street, Sydney, NSW, courtesy of City of Sydney</small></em></TD></TR></Table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=640>I think this film starts at the GPO in Martin Place and ends at the intersection of George and Druitt Streets, ie the Town Hall.<BR><BR>
I gather many of the trams that are going up and down George Street, or which suddenly dart across it, are F-Class trams.<BR><BR>
I love the plethora of verandahs.</TD></TR></Table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-54469495272239743832014-10-20T22:27:00.002+11:002014-10-20T22:27:43.006+11:00Family Tree<Table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wqBFAO5VgkZu_dtsIBaX7dSAYiVXzj5S3bFBsOQUmZQp6mJO6WFQs-SWufX_uwOyHx2p_chEGXIhRPdv4IWQ5l0sp-gIhU9CdeirHup4Da9NkECS4qLy7gA_xYDKee8mcSvFSkZUf159/s1600/15570580572_a2f71ee30e_k.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1wqBFAO5VgkZu_dtsIBaX7dSAYiVXzj5S3bFBsOQUmZQp6mJO6WFQs-SWufX_uwOyHx2p_chEGXIhRPdv4IWQ5l0sp-gIhU9CdeirHup4Da9NkECS4qLy7gA_xYDKee8mcSvFSkZUf159/s640/15570580572_a2f71ee30e_k.jpg" /></a></td></TR></Table><Table align=center><TR><TD width=500><Small>Beneath the three lane Western Distributor from the Sydney Harbour Bridge.</small></td></TR></Table>
<Table align=center><TR><TD width=640>On Saturday I attended yet another Society of Australian Genealogists' seminar in Lower Kent Street, this time tracing "Passenger Arrivals into NSW". Two hours is a long time for me to sit. In fairness, it is not so much the sitting as the standing up and moving afterwards. And the seminar room is on the 2nd floor with the toilets on the ground floor. <BR><BR>
I have two ancestors who I am unable to confidently land upon these shores. My grandmother's grandmother, Ann Howell, was in the 1861 UK Census in Gloucestershire, and the next sighting is her marriage in July 1864 in Ipswich, Queensland. My mother's mother, Olie Hughes was married in May 1920 In a church in Enmore in inner-city Sydney. My grandfather, Roy Selby, returned from WW1 in December 1919. I know his wife-to-be travelled as a war-bride, but when and on which vessell. This seminar has given me a few extra leads.</td></TR></Table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-56397949923928810742014-10-14T22:36:00.000+11:002014-10-14T22:36:57.122+11:00Look at me! Look at me!<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglo4keB-Id4cGxJO30bksyaTMvapBAk3A6OtFkc4e1xgQlZKU9F7soEoyYsRWJE5aeu96P70R_0gLhd-3_DXMX1amTYYTFJVYDo9S_S-LErev2tLgFQnfY32vnG2uNneQXbJewxjycwiok/s1600/JPL+reading+and+walking+043.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglo4keB-Id4cGxJO30bksyaTMvapBAk3A6OtFkc4e1xgQlZKU9F7soEoyYsRWJE5aeu96P70R_0gLhd-3_DXMX1amTYYTFJVYDo9S_S-LErev2tLgFQnfY32vnG2uNneQXbJewxjycwiok/s640/JPL+reading+and+walking+043.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8550214407269277609.post-17809106230851562432014-10-12T21:49:00.002+11:002014-10-12T21:49:51.368+11:00Through a glass darkly ...<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-EA1LxFCYsgScMYq43uhRASzDlvrbaWawYgB2vp9-tfJIfkIKCm1VMdtljETinrVTOzfVipLQcgvB6Sz7TEYf9kRss31em9IxStLrmZNt-GJ8BIGvM5Y4rLBC0aP_nqTdW45uqaTJesV/s1600/Barry+and+Aged+Care+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-EA1LxFCYsgScMYq43uhRASzDlvrbaWawYgB2vp9-tfJIfkIKCm1VMdtljETinrVTOzfVipLQcgvB6Sz7TEYf9kRss31em9IxStLrmZNt-GJ8BIGvM5Y4rLBC0aP_nqTdW45uqaTJesV/s640/Barry+and+Aged+Care+017.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></Table>
<table align=center><TR><TD width=640>Some of you will recall that my older brother is in aged-care, and has been so since November 2011, when he suffered a mentally debilitating stroke. He turns 70 next year. I used to visit every fortnight, but as my walking deteriorates, I now manage every three weeks. These shots were taken on the Monday of the recent long-weekemd.<BR><BR>
I no longer worry about him absconding, or being lonely, or confused, He has another lady-friend, you see. Her name is Rosemary. She is as talkative as he is silent. They make a good couple. Seek each other out, and walk the corridors, hand-in-hand. Even the staff say he is a wonderful person. A good man. Not sure what that means. However, Rosemary is most definite that she loves him. He just smiles, and nods his head. I have taken to chatting with them for a while, and then walking down to the lily ponds with him. I think he enjoys the exercise, and the getting out. I try to discover a different pathway each time.<BR><BR>
On the way back to his facility, we stopped at a picnic table and took a photo of each other. I put the camera on Auto for him and left my own settings. Don't worry about my eyes: I suffer increasingly from conjunctivitis which can close both eyes within minutes. Chlorsig will open them again within 24 hours.<BR><BR>
Barry's aged-care facility (high care) is set within a Retirement Village with gorgeous gardens. We wander the lanes, and occasionally a sprig will fall into my bag! I think this one is called "Old Man's Beard". I don't have a sprig of it yet. But it intrigues Baz.</TD></TR></Table>
<table align=center><TR><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibMgj18_DVrj6dDH9QYRmnJ2MwSFkXsdDEjmxeyyfMlZukzkXokcm3Orpb5AuGAWXgpsPrc1AF3IRxUZwxdM-qNGBY6BatezqXSU7JNR6P6i_JIMFeb-IfpBz-aMTG3mAfZ4SxZ-J4eYeZ/s1600/Barry+and+Aged+Care+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibMgj18_DVrj6dDH9QYRmnJ2MwSFkXsdDEjmxeyyfMlZukzkXokcm3Orpb5AuGAWXgpsPrc1AF3IRxUZwxdM-qNGBY6BatezqXSU7JNR6P6i_JIMFeb-IfpBz-aMTG3mAfZ4SxZ-J4eYeZ/s320/Barry+and+Aged+Care+013.JPG" /></a><?TD><TD><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bcfU19JQeF1kT43s_-b3Cc_sEoe56tkSbwnPOmQUrJ01iz9N2mTxVzxWMgCrrqQT0W1Lu56uOVO9P7zqW_Urvog93AVYeh193-hR7kSXxJGPE_2UnqRJWIG53t1fMIyY5Vg_P28Xc3iY/s1600/Barry+and+Aged+Care+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bcfU19JQeF1kT43s_-b3Cc_sEoe56tkSbwnPOmQUrJ01iz9N2mTxVzxWMgCrrqQT0W1Lu56uOVO9P7zqW_Urvog93AVYeh193-hR7kSXxJGPE_2UnqRJWIG53t1fMIyY5Vg_P28Xc3iY/s320/Barry+and+Aged+Care+003.JPG" /></a></TD></TR></Table>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00647929951322724618noreply@blogger.com3