Birthkeeping

 Stacey Warnecke was a "wellness influencer" who died of a postpartum haemorrhage following the unassisted birth of her first child in Melbourne last year. As the coronial enquiry wraps up I remembered a client I might have had back when I was practising as a doula.

"Bella" was a doula herself and we had met for coffee a couple of times when I had wanted her to be my back-up.

On this occasion, Bella had asked me to meet up and wanted to discuss the possibility of me becoming her doula. She wasn't yet pregnant but was making plans.

Bella asked my opinions about various aspects of birth: whether I would support a home birth, how I felt about unassisted birth and finally she asked if I would call an ambulance if she lost consciousness. I carefully explained that if she was unable to make decisions for herself, that responsibility would fall to her husband as Next of Kin. I also explained that I hoped he would make that decision but if I was concerned enough, I would not be able to stand by and do nothing.

Bella told me she was so against medical intervention that she would rather die than go to hospital. I said that I didn't believe she would hold to those principles when she was actually carrying a baby and the life of that baby was at risk.

Needless to say, I didn't get the job but I did hear through the grapevine that she did have a baby boy after an emergency transfer to hospital.

Holidays

This week I went away up the coast for a few nights. I stayed in a tidy little motel at Belmont and I want to say it was overlooking the lake. The motel is right on the shore of Lake Macquarie but it is built facing the highway, as things were back in the day.

No matter, I went out and sat by the lake every day, watching the weather and the birds. At one time I noticed some ravens scuffling just nearby and when I looked, they were not scuffling at all but investigating this Tawny Frogmouth. When I saw her, I wondered if she might be dead but a quick google revealed that the head down and wings out position was for sunbaking. As I watched, she sat up and eventually flew away. Why a nocturnal bird was sitting in the mud at lunchtime, I will never know. She looks young and on another day the mud would have been a delightful dust bowl so maybe there was some learning happening.

  
Moody Lake Macquarie. It was drizzling and overcast a lot of the time, which was ok by me. Speaking of the weather, I wore my day time cardigan to sleep in because there was only one very thin blanket on the bed and I was waking up a lot until I finally realised I was cold.
I suppose they expect guests to use the air con but I'd prefer a cold room and more blankets. I haven't ever before seen accommodation where they don't provide extra blankets. I found it quite odd but maybe it's cheaper to run air con than to launder blankets? 

 

Caitlin put these cockatoos on the bathroom wall for me today. I have added an ibis near the front door as well. I look forward to the day when my grandson sees them, meanwhile I will enjoy them. I thought I was doing something fun and different but apparently whimsy is having a moment in interior decor. It's funny how the zeitgeist works, isn't it?

Retributive Justice

I've been watching the situation with Christa Pike, not deep diving into it but keeping an eye on headlines. The poor woman is back in prison while they figure out next steps. I think she has suffered enough. I know she did a heinous thing. I also know she was young when she did it. I also know she had suffered horribly as a child. She has expressed remorse and as they say, an eye for an eye makes the world go blind. Christa has endured 30+ years on death row, survived two doses of lethal injection and recovered from the resulting coma. That is enough for a traumatised child.

Sam Wood is afraid of gaol style punishment for the (alleged) attempted murder of his wife in the presence of her daughter and the couple's three under 10 children. He can dish it out but he's apparently not so great at taking it. I am unsure of how I stand on retributive justice but if he happened to slip on some soap

and hit his head

and the cameras were faulty

and the guards were asleep

and the phones didn't work 

and the ambulance was caught in traffic.....

I would not shed a tear.

Arguing with Strangers on the Internet

 Some days I take a huge amount of delight in arguing with strangers. I know, there's 10 000 more useful things to do.

Today I saw a post from a man who works in palliative care. He described how grief and past traumas can combine to create some difficult behaviours in the family members of the dying.

He also described how he had learnt to give those challenging people a job to do, alleviating their sense of powerlessness and improving their behaviour.

It was a wise and useful post but the first (and only) comment said "Learned, not learnt. Learnt is not a word'

I was inordinately tickled with my own answer and might cackle about it for the rest of the day:

"If you had done the tiniest bit of research you would have found that learnt is, indeed, a word and has been used correctly here. Someone pours out their soul and you incorrectly correct their spelling. You have never learnt to read a room" 

Generation Gap

 

I'm sure at least some of you are aware of the current cross generational argument: whether is is acceptable to take an iced coffee to a job interview?

For me, the answer is a hard no. I wouldn't go to an interview with a hot coffee, a cold coffee or probably even a water bottle. The water bottle because I grew up in a world where people didn't hydrate every two minutes and I still don't have an emotional support water bottle. I wouldn't take coffee because I just don't think it's appropriate. To be honest, I'm at a level of old lady grouchiness that I am quietly irritated when people stroll in to church (less formal than an initerview) slurping coffee. 

I asked my son (who has been on interview panels) what he would think of a candidate showing up with an iced coffee and he looked at me like the dinosaur I am and told me it's all about the right fit for the role. 

I have never been interviewer, just interviewee, so I can't say if an iced coffee would be a deal breaker but it definitely would be part of my overall impression.

What do you think?

Bin Chickens

 

I remember a time when the Australian White Ibis wasn't seen in Sydney. 

Then they appeared in the CBD.

Now, they are everywhere.

Like most people, I haven't been a great fan of them. Being quite large birds, they do large poops which always looks really messy and uninviting. They also scavange in bins for food so they make a mess that way as well. They also just look ugly and pre-historic because of their bald heads and necks.

At some point I found out that they migrated to the city because of habitat loss in their natural range and while I still find them messy, I had to admire their resourcefulness and survival instinct.

There is a theory that a liberty flock at Taronga Zoo mixed with some birds who had migrated to the city during drought and encouraged the refugees to stay, as explained in Wikipedia

"The relationship between birds originating from the Taronga flock and any influx of inland birds into Sydney is poorly known, but it is speculated that human-habituated flocks originating from the zoo may have encouraged some visiting flocks to stay in Sydney, with the two populations likely merging to some degree. Resident Sydney birds may have influenced newcomers fleeing from inland drought to adapt to new food sources in the city and to accept close proximity to humans."

These ibis would naturally live in marsh areas and build rafts of sticks for their nests. In the city they build in palm trees (and maybe other places but palm trees are where I see them) 

This leads me to reflect on the certainty that their poo would be less messy if it was on a floating stick raft instead of falling from the height of a palm tree.

Today I was driving past a construction site where there was a large, muddy puddle and I noticed four ibis trying to forage in the puddle. There were not going to be any fish or frogs or anything edible at all in the puddle and I was hit by a wave of sadness to see them engaged in the intuitive behaviour of thousands of years with no possible benefit.

Wading in a muddy puddle and nesting in a tree is such a watered down version of  raising their young in a marsh, fishing around the colony and wading in the diverse plants, birds and insects of a marsh. I still can't say I love them but their image problem is really because  they are in the wrong environment, not bbecause they are inherently unattractive. They really do deserve to be able to live their natural lifestyle. 

Photo Tuesday

 Most Sundays after church, I go out for cake and coffee with my Dad's cousin (which makes him also my cousin but with some extra designation) 

It all started when he had a year long driving suspension and I volunteered to drive him to or from church. The suspension has ended but we have created a tradition I enjoy.

On the way to the patisserie I took some photos. It seemed to be a day for interesting sights. I wish I was a better photographer. I'd probably do better if I stopped  the car rather than just try to wing it while I wait for a red light.

I really enjoy this mural.

The oranges hanging on the fence for free was just a delightful little sign that there is still generosity in this world.

I visited mum today. She was tearful and grumpy when I arrived but cheered up when my sister arrived and despite her protests that she isn't hungry, she ate her lunch of meatballs and vegetables, cake with custard and then topped it off with a yogurt brought in as a treat.

Her cognitive ability is up and down within a single visit but seemed particularly bad today, perhaps made worse by endone she is on for a painful ulcer.

 

Cleaning

 

I was watching Reels this morning and there was one talking about cleaning, specifically about cleaning for people 65+

When an Australian turns 65, they are eligible to apply for support services via the government My Aged Care service. The supports offered are determined by the need of the client so being 65+ won't necessarily mean the service will be approved.

In the Reel I viewed this morning, the speaker was saying that many phone and ask for cleaning services the moment they turn 65 and found to be capable and not in need of assistance. Her question was, does age alone qualify a person for subsidised cleaning?

It seems a simple enough question.

Someone said "my mum is 93 and doesn't receive cleaning but paid her taxes etc" Who ever suggested a 93 year old shouldn't receive assistance? I don't think any reasonable person expects a 93 year old (almost 30 years after qualifying age) to do their own cleaning.

What about the tax part? Do we pay taxes so we can automatically have help at 65? do we pay taxes so people who need help can have help? or do we pay taxes because it is required by law and we don't really care at all about helping people? 

A support worker commented that she didn't do a year of study to go into the aged care sector to become a cleaner. That's reasonable.

Someone else commented that instead of the focus on cleaning, aged care funding should be assisting people to maintain health so they can stay independent for longer. I have to guess this person might have been suggesting a focus on physiotherapy or mental health support or exercise physiology. Somehow I think it's probably cheaper to pay for cleaning than to pay for allied health professionals and cleaning is more likely to be well received by the older person. There's no point paying for physio if a person won't do their exercises. 

Another said that getting cleaners in helps people to get used to the idea of assistance and means there is someone who is checking in regularly and can flag the need for further assistance. 

The question of do we give everyone a cleaner at age 65 is really answered by what we are trying to achieve. Is it because we want older to people to live in clean homes? Is it motivated by safety? or more by human rights? Are we trying to relieve people of burdensome chores so they can do other things? Are we trying to reward people for paying into the tax system? Are we trying to actively watch for signs of deterioration?

Australians can't have an age pension before age 67 but can apply for cleaning services at 65. That seems odd.

Holy Days

 

Today I took myself off to the cinema and saw "Holy Days"

It is a feel good comedy/ drama set in 1974 New Zealand and I must say I enjoyed it just as much as I expected to.

There were a few short segments created with stop motion, which was interesting and not at all out of place.

I enjoyed seeing the old HR Holden. ( I had a white HR sedan as a wedding car.) 

I enjoyed the story and the scenery and the actors.

The film was loght and enjoyable but had things to say about love, miracles, community and dying.

Palace Fail

 This week I returned to part-time hours at work after a six month stint of full time filling in for a maternity leave position.

Fifteen hours/ week is not sustainable and on top of that my ego is bruised because I had been putting in a huge effort, doing a decent job and hoping that if the lady who was on leave resigned (which she did) I might become full time on a permanent basis. When I was there 2 days/ week I found it hard to learn the job and harder to feel part of the team but once I was there 5 days, I was able to improve all of that.

Anyhow, at the same time my favourite cinema noticed that I hadn't been in a while and offered me a half price ticket.

I didn't have to be at work in the morning and the ticket was so cheap, I made a booking for Monday evening.

When I got there, the lift from the car park was not working and there was a sign to call the box office for assistance. I couldn't imagine that they would be able to fix the lift but I called anyway and the phone went unanswered.

From the  underground carpark to the cinema foyer (which is above street level) there must be about 25 or 30 stairs and the majority of those with no hand rail.

I decided not to attempt the stairs and reluctantly headed for home.

I emailed customer service with a request for a refund and received a reply saying that the carpark is not operated by the cinema and therefore it was not their problem but they were giving me an opportunity to buy two more half price tickets. (The carpark is leased to a car park company but the lift belongs to the cinema building)

The wording was sneaky, though and for a few minutes I thought I was being given two tickets.

The dodging of responsibility was not the response I hoped for but I replied and thanked them for the tickets.

It was only after I hit send that I realised that not only did I not receive a refund but they were asking me to buy two more tickets.

So how come they have failed on multiple levels but I am the one who feels dumb?

Who's an Orange Poo Bum?

 

There certainly is plenty said online about Donald Trump's incontinence. There are references to his diapers, there are videos of people near gagging on what we can only assume is the smell of the guy. There are many jokes and memes. The topic has a life all of it's own.

Now, Trump appalls me. His behaviour disgusts me. His hatefulness depresses me. His destruction of so much that was good horrifies me.

In many ways I am happy to see him mocked. I think he deserves plenty of scrutiny and he has put himself well in the line of fire for all the mockery he attracts.

Having said all of that, I am really not sure what I think of the whole incontinence issue being so publicly joked about.

If I was doubly incontinent (or for that matter just incontinent of urine) I would be embarassed, ashamed, sad and frustrated.

If the whole world knew about it, it would be worse. If the whole world mocked me for it, I would wish to die.

I think of the aged care residents I know, the majority of them are incontinent but they are still people who have innate dignity and deserve to be treated as valuable.

Trump is a monster but I am not sure I can support the mockery he receives around this issue. It makes me uncomfortable because I think there's a very thin distinction between laughing at a disgraceful politician because of his uncontrolled bowel and laughing at the old bloke in the care home who never hurt a fly but can't recognise his need to go to the toilet. 

I'm also not sure it is the right thing to pick on.

A failing body seems to be the easiest,  laziest thing to laugh at. His moral and ethical failures are so much more significant. Truth be told they are probably even more frequent than the full diapers.

What do you think, dear reader? Does he deserve whatever insults come his way?

Mother

 Tonight I wanted to write a post but couldn't think of a topic. 

And then I happened to come across this art work

I have never seen it before but it recalls my days as a young mother, perched on the edge of a bed or a couch or a kichen stool, feeding a child or two.

The fingers spreading out and pulling on the skin is a detail I had forgotten but I know my hands remember.

I love the light. I love the crib on the floor by the bed, I often used car capsules the same way.

I love the linens on the bed and I know the comfort of those sheets.

I loved to wear a rustling skirt like the one worn by this mother.

I love the water jar by the bed and remember how there has never been a thirst like that of breastfeeding.

I love the hint of lace on the baby's blanket

and the exquisite beauty of the newborn's head.

I think I want to buy a print. A large one.

Mother. Elin Danielson-Gambogi

Breakfasts

 Earlier this year I started to eat the same breakfast every day. Greek yogurt with berry and chia compote. It's easy to organise, high protein, high fibre and I like it. This was a deliberate strategy to get the day started with a good choice and it was going really well. 

Then winter came and I really want to have a hot breakfast but it's not possible to pull a hot breaky out of the fridge in the morning.

Instead I have been eating:

leftover daal   6/10

porridge  with berry compote     4/10

porridge with peanut butter and brown sugar     7/10

barley cooked in pear juice and cardamom pods  topped with a small dot large spoon of cream    9/10

cheese on toast      8/10

Some of these do better at hitting the nutrritional goals than others and none are as good as the yogurt and compote. I am doing badly at fibre and protein but well at whole foods. i will keep trying and it will soon be warmer weather and I will go back to yogurt with fruit.

I really encourage you to try barley cooked in juice. It's quite delicious.

Responsibility

 After my mum's last hospitalisation I wrote about delirium. My reflections on that hospitalisation and on the recovery led me to question whether I should not have given consent for the procedure she had. It was a tough time for her and I am still not sure if I could have made another choice.

Knowing that these decisions are not going to get easier, I recently asked mum about her wishes for the future. "I don't want any treatment, leave me alone and let what happens, happen"

I can respect this view but I didn't feel that mum's behaviour matched her words so I asked again:

"So, you'd be happy to just stay in bed and be looked after until you die?"

"I didn't say that! Why are you asking me this?"

I explained that I want, in fact need, to understand her wishes because there may come a time when she can't advocate for herself.

Mum told me it was not my decision to make, that she can choose, that her doctors will choose. And on it went. 

I interpret her resistance to my genuine enquiries as evidence that my understanding was correct. She doesn't want to decline all treatments, she has an expectation of continuing to live and be treated and make decisions for herself. The unfortunate part is that she doesn't make decisions any more. Ask her if she wants chicken or fish and she will say a sandwich. 

All of this has been weighing on me intermittently. Mum is very frail and has several non-healing wounds. There is a very strong likelihood that one day, a wound will be infected or she will develop pneumonia and if I am to have any chance of handling the situation I need to be considering options before the crisis comes.

And I don't know why I have written all of that in present tense because mum's care manager updated me last week to say that we have very few options left for mum. Heart failure is impeding her circulation, which is why her wounds don't heal. She is on all the heart drugs, diuretics and blood thinners she can be on and she is no longer strong enough to survive a surgery.

What all of that means is, if mum has a sudden decline for any reason, there are very few options left for her.

It would seem that my efforts to understand Mum's wishes have become almost redundant and I am glad I don't have to carry that but I am not glad of the reason.

For the moment she is well so I shove all of that to the back of my mind, take her treats and try to mollify the irrational, complaining person she has become.

A good week

When I started at the job I am in, I shared the job and I was doing two days/ week. After a while my colleague went off on maternity leave and I hoped to work her days until she came back. It took a while for everything to shuffle into place but I did eventually pick up her days.

This week, I was told that my colleague has resigned and I was invited to apply for the position on a permanent basis.

This is very good.

The job is low paid and exhausting but it makes me feel alive and the low pay is more tolerable when there are more hours.

It has been a long time hope of mine to go to a Christmas in July dinner but for years now I have not booked anything early and as July progressed I have run out of time to squeeze in a Christmas in July event. 

This year, my daughter Briony organised and paid for me before I could miss out for another year.

Last night I went with Briony and Caitlin to "Yulefest" at the Hydromajestic, a lovely old hotel in the Blue Mountains. 

The hotel  is gorgeous, the service was sublime, the five courses were all wonderful, there were twinkling lights and Christmas music. It was just a lovely evening.

Having ticked that off my bucket list, I will be content if I don't do it again. That's not to say I wouldn't do it again, just that it was lovely but there are other restaurants, festivals and joys to experience.

I am so blessed by my kid's generosity to me and wish I had done these kinds of things with my own mum but the whole dynamic was different. 

Just a few years ago I tried to take mum and dad out for a delicious brunch but they ate beforehand and then didn't want more than coffee. In many ways mum and dad were quite modern but an "expensive" brunch was a bridge too far.

Today, my grown children, partners and grandson came "home" to celebrate the twins' birthday with cake. It was good. The young fella was particularly keen to hang out with "Keegy" as he calls his uncle and Keegy was happy to oblige. Many guavas were pulled from the tree and dandelions picked before a quick return to mum and then back out the door with upturned palm opening and closing "Keegy Come"  

Mural on Thursday

 

Well I am sure you all know by now that I took the trip to the funeral. 

When things seemed to keep going badly I thought I should have listened to the people here who advised against it but the problems didn't happen because I had been unwell so it was just one of those things.

I drove to Goulburn on Thursday night and as I got into town I had problems with my Google Maps and couldn't find my accommodation. I ended up phoning my daughter for directions and interrupting a night out.

Then I couldn't for the life of me find the cabin in the caravan park. Then there was no handrail on the steps into the cabin so I had to do a strange pull-yourself-up manouvre. What should have been a two hour drive was over three.

In the morning I had a 2.5 hour drive to do but there had been a fatal truck crash and there was a long diversion. I can't complain, I am alive.

The diversion and ongoing navigational difficulties made me forty minutes  late for the funeral. Embarassing but in the circumstances punctuality didn't matter.

Grenfell, a town of under 3000, had five funerals last week so there was no accommodation available in town and I stayed at my friend's family home. The first and only time I will see her in her childhood environment. I had always wanted to do that and now I have. I also met her brother, an interesting man.

When I did my silo art tour a couple of years back, I didn't make it to Grenfell so now I have seen the silos, painted by Heesco.

The photo is not mine, I saw the silos at night and forgot to get a daytime photo

The problems made the whole trip feel like I had to use every bit of patience and persistence I have ever developed. It was a test of stamina, for sure but I feel that I was true to my values and I am happy with that.

The Unlikely Doctor

The cold I was developing on Thursday became fully fledged on the weekend. My eyes and nose streamed and I cancelled all plans.

Yesterday I felt a wee bit better and went to work, mostly because there was an admission to do. The boss asked if I was sick and made an issue of me spreading germs. I said I only came in to do the admission "get it done and then go home"

Maybe I take things to personally but I didnt like being the bad guy. The fact that they told me to do the admission then go pretty much says everything.

It's an odd thing, one minute I can feel quite good and the next my energy tanks.

I am home today. I had a chiro treatment and went out for coffee and now Buffy is sleeping on my lap.

A dear friend lost her mum last week and I want to go to the funeral on Friday. It's a 4.5 hour drive and I would normally do it with one arm tied behind me but I am nervous about doing too much too soon. I didn't think I was exhausted before I got sick but it's here now and some moments feels almost insurmountable.

While I have been taking it easy I read "The Unlikely Doctor": Timote Timoke tells his remarkable story about a childhood of disadvatage and violence, leading to gang life and gaol. The memory of the aroha he received from his grandparents sustains him until he can become a paramedic and eventually a doctor.

To say the book is inspirational would be trite so I won't. I will say it's a great example of how genuine love is never wasted.

A post about nothing

 Years and years as the person who eats the things that will be wasted if I don't eat them means my standards are quite low. As the person who was responsible for all the planning, all the shopping, all the food prep and all the cleaning up, my interest in doing a single unneccessary skerrick of work conspired to further lower my standards.

Today I thought we were having a lunch provided by work but I had the wrong day. I messaged my girls to say it was a huge disappointment but I would be ok because I have an office fruit bowl.

The responses:

"I thought chopped up fruit but not Kylie"

"I had the same thought. Pictured some cut up apples and some mushy pear and maybe some tinned cherries or something just for fun"

After I got home and had a small apple pie with my dinner, Keaghan asked "Did you at least warm it up?'

No, I did not.

"I knew you didn't, that's why I asked"

I appall them.

I also have a cold and got my car locked in the basement at work and had to get an Uber home. They say I have drama every day but I absolutely swear I don't create these situations on purpose.

How about you?

 A quick little bit of fluff tonight but these kinds of memes are always fun.

1. Scrambled on sourdough

2. Prawn salad or egg or chicken, lettuce and mayo. Honestly, how am I supposed to choose? I also like banana, sultanas and peanut butter or butter and honey.

3. Hot chips. Followed by potato bake, mashed potato, roast potato, hash browns and potato in curry.

4. Coriander

5. Salt

6. Wooden spoon, wooden chopping board, quality knife.

7. Bolognaise

8. Lamb Shoulder

9. As a kid I always thought it was Christmas if we had fish and chips. Fish and chips was always take-away but Mum made lots of things I still enjoy: pavlova, vanilla nut custard, apricot chicken, Madras Steak and swwet and sour chicken. 

Winter

 For the 29 years we have lived in this house, the gas heater has been a feature of winter life. One of my twins stuck her finger inside the grill at 10 months old and got her finger burnt. I still wonder what I was thinking to leave the kids unattended but I really never expected anyone to do that, she had previously ignored the heater completely.

I remember the kids dressing in the loungeroom in front of the heater on cold school mornings. 

I remember setting up a broom across two chairs in front of the heater and using it as a clothes dryer.

I remember once hosting a party and being so happy to be able to have a warm and welcoming home but with all the people in the room we sweltered.

These days Keaghan spends all his time in his bedroom with a small heater keeping the room warm, only appearing for food and to razz Buffy so I am alone in the lounge room and it seems wasteful to run the gas heater for such a large room with only me in it. Instead, I spread a heated rug over the couch and sit on it. My back and legs are toasty warm, my ankles and hands are colder.

Buffy is snoring beside me, taking up her allocated part of the rug. She would rather be on my lap but can't compete with the laptop.

Soon I will make a hot chocolate and dip a buttermilk rusk in it. I first saw the buttermilk rusks at Aldi last year and because I can not resis trying a new product, I bought some. When they arrived in store this winter, I bought some more. It's quite a delicious and comforting little treat.

And as I write, I remember that we are almost out of milk. Will i have the chocolate tonight or will I have coffee in the morning? Choices, choices.

Talking of winter, they say that more people die in winter than any other time and I don't know what the statistics say but this week, the first time we have had temperatures below 10 degrees, and the week of the shortest day, we have seen six aged care residents go to the next life. Six.

Before I turn in for the night, I will heat my wheat bags in the microwave. That winter tradition has been going a good few years now. One heat pack at my back, because who doesn't love a heat source on their back, and the other will keep my hands warm while i drift off to sleep.