Melbourne to Qld

This is in response, largely, to Bern Morley's blog of a few days ago. She's done the opposite to me. She's moved to Melbourne from the Gold Coast. In the mid 90s I moved from Melbourne to Ipswich. The move was the desperate measure of a recent graduate. Nursing jobs were a bit thin on the ground then, what with Kennett and his severe cost cutting measures. I'd started applying all over the joint. I even fired off an application to Kalgoorlie. In the end, Ipswich hospital got there first. The month after that was filled with a lot of lists, as well as packing. My hubbie (then boyfriend) was to come up later. Things were a bit rocky, so I was a bit doubtful, but he did.
I noticed the change in weather in NSW as we approached the border. A highlight of the trip up was when my son held a toy microphone plus stand out the car window and lost the stand. As my daughter looked at me (it was hers), I said, "I'm not going back". It was early September. Melbourne was still cold, with a cold, changeable wind, still kinda winter weather, occasionally warmer. This wasn't. The wind wasn't even cold, for crying out loud.
We moved into one of those "charming" high set houses that were built a lot in the 70s and 80s. It had no insulation, crappy carpet, no real curtains and the "laundry" (and I use the term loosely) was downstairs. Oddly enough, the bathroom was huge. Go figure. To go with the no insulation, Ipswich has a slightly different climate to Brisbane, hotter in summer, colder in winter. Best of both worlds so to speak, so that house was real comfortable at times. We did shift into an outer suburb of Brisbane after a few years. The humidity still sucks sometimes. Thanks to airconditioning. The evaporative cooling system is pointless up here, unless you like the climate of say Darwin or Cairns.
I found that a lot more people up here went to church than they did in Melbourne. Maybe all my acquaintances were a bunch of Godless wretches, but I don't think so.
Shops didn't open on Sundays at all and only until 12 on Saturdays. You could've fired a cannon down the main drag in Ipswich Saturday 2pm.
I got handed a white dress (several actually) when I picked up my uniforms at the hospital and got told to  buy brown shoes and my own red cape. WTF??? I'm not the flying nun here. I was used to the white shirt with navy pants/skirt, which now we actually have.
I did get truly sick of being called a Mexican, with varying degrees of contempt. Usually the most contemptuous were by men that I'd turned down. Interesting that. I really don't recall Qlders have the piss taken out of them like that.
Driving......people up here couldn't use roundabouts, merge and disliked being overtaken. The worst offenders for this would sit in the right lane, next to a car in the left lane with long lines of cars behind both cars. Again, WTF??? If I catch my hubby doing that, I tell him that he's driving like a Qlder, that gets a bit of movement.
I think, eventually we might move back to Melbourne, or at least the Mornington Peninsula. Of course our 2 oldest have grown up here and will, no doubt, make their lives here and our younger 2 were born here, but we're keeping an open mind.
Do I like Qld? Of course, but I do understand those that yearn just a bit for home.

Hoarding

I've been watching hoarders on pay tv lately. Car crash tv at its best. To start with it's either on the crime channel (crime against self/family) or bio (the sad story of someone's life). Watching an episode of hoarders makes me feel like cleaning and throwing out stuff, much in the same way that my ex morbidly obese neighbour used to inspire me to continue going to gym.
I've been going through my own and family member's papers/toys/stuff lately. It's depressing that there's still more, even when you're done!!! I went through the filing cabinet a while ago (both mine and hubby's drawers). He had septic tank maintenance bills from back in '98, as well as old concert tickets and a few handwritten referees from the 80s, saying what a hard worker and all round lovely guy he was when he worked in a supermarket as a kid. Mmm hmm. Generously I let him keep them. I had group certificates from the early 90s. Yep.
Mr 21 just has a load of shitty tshirts. I don't even touch them really. He also has a lot of CDs and DVDs. I do hope 2 of my DVDs eventually turn up in his room.
Miss 24 is hoarding quite differently than the usual. She is collecting stuff to put in her house when she eventually moves out for good (oh blessed day). Her boyfriend just shakes his head. I usually laugh.
Miss 10 used to be a shocker, but after a number of silent wars (you know the type, one throws something out, the other gets it back, nothing is said, at all) she is getting better. I'm still not really game to go in the bed box at the end of her bed.
Miss 7 is interesting..... I went through her room today and some of the shit I saw blew my mind. Particularly when I went behind her chest of drawers and saw empty packet upon packet of biscuits etc. Needless to say I filled a bag with "stuff" and she will probably hate me when she gets home from school. Now, to get to the old cards I've kept.....

October

New month peoples, so new post. We're very busy this month. From now on in, it's a slippery slope to Christmas. Normally at this time of year I'm starting to feel some sense of panic.  It's getting close to Christmas and we have 4 birthdays between now and Christmas.
My husband has a birthday in May. Mr 20 turned into Mr 21 (man child) in August, but so far that's it.
Now we are expecting Miss 23 to turn into Miss 24 next week. Miss 7 will become Miss 8 at the end of the month. Early next month, Miss 10 will become Miss 11. I will simply not get older at all on my birthday in early December, oh and I'm not going to mention my exact age. God knows my body lets me know that anyway. I now need bifocals. Bifocals FFS! Oh and I went to primary school in the 70s and wore ghastly hairstyles and puffy, bright clothing at various stages in the 80s.
Normally I would be in a moderate state of panic about the sheer volume of presents I have to buy. Mr 21 seemed surprised that his older sister has a birthday next week. He's only known her 21 years after all. Mind you hubby still struggles to remember anyones birthday. This year, I'm in only a mild state of panic. Thanks to my wily plan of slogging my guts out in August with the Census. I have had the cash to buy most of the Christmas/birthday pressies.....and a hexagonal fishtank and this lovely iMac that I'm currently typing on. I'm fairly sick of the empty fishtank box though. Miss 7 insists on dragging it about as variously a cubby/cat box/ hidey box. One day it will just disappear.
Guess who's going to be buying their own Christmas/birthday present though, as usual. Then I will be presenting it to my hubby to wrap and maybe getting it the present in the bag it came in with a card. Hmmm.
Anywho, I'm looking at the Gillette jewellers website. I love them, they layby.

Long break

Yes folks, it's been a while (oh alright ages) since I've posted well anything on my blog. I do have good reason, however. Last month I was a Census collector. I may have mentioned earlier on (or not) that I may be having further surgery at the end of the year. This means that come Christmas time I will be cactus and not really fit for any Christmas shopping sprees. So what better way than to get myself some extra money beforehand and wa la, problem solved. So I duly applied (as did one of my kids) and got accepted (miss 23 as the reserve). We started preparation/training late July and delivery shortly thereafter. Couple of days rest and then into collection and then counting and reconciliation of the (damned) book. Couple of things I learned about Census collection.
1. There was a lot of stuff and if you lost any of it, you may have to met your local feds (gulp).
2. I am so glad I never went into accounting, I tend to make a mess of most forms, let alone a large thick book. As for reconciliation.....don't get me started.
3. I got fitter (and lost a bit of weight), all that walking.
4. I live in a nice neighbourhood. Most people were really nice (or at least civil).
5. Not everyone will be happy about doing it. In our area some refused outright, or just didn't send in their forms etc. That's their choice I guess.
6. I have real feeling for the job of posties now. Some dogs will try to attack you through the fence near the letterbox, or even try to jump the fence.
7. This job is all consuming for the short time you do it. Between my permanent job and this one, I worked out (very roughly) that I worked the equivalent of 1 &3/4 full time work. Gaaarh!

I sacrificed a volunteers position at the Brisbane Writers Festival for this, oh well, maybe next year.
As for the Christmas presents (and birthday presents), well on the way. Yay!

Eyes

Who would thought that eyes could be traumatic? There they sit, on your face, doing what they do. Letting us get around without anyone else's or thing's help. I used to read obsessively in the half dark as a kid. I always got told that I'd go blind if I kept straining them, thanks ppl. I always had great vision, regular 20/20 (actually 6/6, it's metric), until my mid 30s, when I found I had trouble looking from my book to the tv at night. I promptly went to qn optometrist and ended up with glasses, which have gotten stronger over the last few years.

As a part of my application to drive again after my surgery (yes, it's a big deal), I had to get my peripheral vision checked out. That's where you put your eye up to a machine (one qt q time) and are given q button to press every time a small dot flashes up on the screen in front of you. I'm sure I pressed way too many times, but what the he'll, I passed anyway.

The other drama was with miss 23s eyes. She was applying to go into the army at 18, when they asked her to get her eyes checked. She's worn glasses since 3 you see. She had a patch over her right eye for a couple of years. The left eye has always been bit weaker too. Well the optometrist found a detached retina. Cue the tears. Well a week later, she was getting the first of her eye operations (the other one was also detached, just not as badly). This involved day surgery, scleral buckles, heavy gas injections, lots of post op eye drops and some time off work. Thanks to the eye centre at the gold coast, her eyes have healed wonderfully anther vision is fine, although they say they will deteriorate as she gets old, but she can still see. Not sure if she fully appreciates it yet, but she will eventually.


Miss 7 has recently complained of a couple of funny things with her vision, she off we go to the optometrist again. Pray for me.....

Emergency departments

Part 2....
Ahhh the pain of the emergency department visit. I've done a few over the years. Private hospitals have fairly civilized ones, with shorter waiting times and nicer surroundings than public hospitals. I went years ago when miss 23 dropped a concrete block on her foot (shod) and detipped her toe, complete with toenail. We were going regularly for the dressings until she dobbed me in. "my mummy wears one of those watches....and uniforms. There was a significant silence and then she asked if I was a nurse. (doh, sprung by a 3 year old), they didn't accept my protests that I was still training and I subsequently got a garbage bag full of dressings dumped at my feet and a "you'll be right". Grrr. Mister 20 has necessitated a few trips to ED (emergency department) over the years. A funny one involved him writhing around in pain after he had a reaction to some aloe Vera over sunburn. Miss 7 split the bridge of her nose this year, requiring suturing. Mr 20 drove us and started going white when he saw the sutures being done. I got accepted into a training course in ED, but it started at the same time as the midwifery course, so I picked that, fortunately. I'm cynical enough already.
As anyone who read my post would know my husband had his gall bladder out and subsequently went yellow, at which stage I took him back to the hospital at which he got operated on.

Prsonally, I think he's a lousy historian, we waited for nearly 4 hours to get in. He dozed fitfully (so did I for that matter). People coughed, I cringed. Babies cried, I felt like shouting at them to take them home. Fortunately for all of us I didn't. We got in as I was on the verge of going up to triage (nearly 4 hours later) and "chatting" to her.

The first thing they said inside ED was "ooh, you're yellow aren't you!" no shit Sherlock! The end result was he was admitted.
The downside:
We waited for hours (they were very busy)
The baby next to us and the girl also next to us weren't that sick (grr, go to the GP people). The registrar told him off for not disclosing his full medical history when he had (which I pointed out), although she was flustered.
One of the senior nurses told off a junior nurse in front of us (very unprofessional).
I had no dinner (was there from 4-11pm).
The upside:
It was free
Once inside he got seen promptly and one of the surgical registrars was called quickly.
The care was good and what I'd expect from a developed country.

In the end, my hubby stayed in hospital for a week, passed a gall stone which had obstructed his common bile duct and is now back to normal, or close to it. It's hard to know when to go to an ED. Even as a nurse, I would hesitate to give a few vague instructions. Most states do have an information line 24 hours a day, staffed by experienced nurses who will ask the appropriate questions and then advise you. The only thing I'd advise is if it can wait til the morning, let it, oh and give your history (of the illness/injury and your medical issues) properly. It can save a lot of time and may greatly help.
Some humour. Let's face it, we're a sadistic lot and sometimes the stress our jobs place on us leads to so called gallows humour. The Internet is alive with gallows humour. Hers a couple of my favorites.
You look at strangers and think 'nice veins'
Discussing dismemberment over dinner seems perfectly normal
You think 'too stupid to live' should be a recognized diagnosis
There are many more such gems, but you'll hve to find em yourself.

Men and illness

As most readers would know, I'm a nurse. At the moment I work with babies and their mums.I used to work with pregnant and laboring mums. Before that I worked with men (primarily) in a male surgical ward (and orthopedics).
Working in orthopedics Means that you mostly look after: old women who fall over and break a hip, usually a neck of their femur(thigh bone). It's the thinnest part right at the top of the bone and so very prone to breakage in our osteoporotic elderly citizens. They generally need hip replacements, screws etc. Almost without fail when you get them up for a shower post op they pee on your feet. That's why there are gumboots for the nursing staff to wear when showering patients.
Then you get to look after men who have accidents. Some road traffic ones (whether motorbike or automobile), some shed ones, my favorite. The shed ones tend to happen more commonly around Christmas time. The men get a power tool, a skinful of grog and head on out to the shed to try out the new drill, saw etc. Cue the blood/tendon/ligament injuries. Yesss.
Then I worked in male surgical. Urology (prostates and kidney stones), ENT (ear, nose & throat) as well as general surgery. Anh, yes I remember the sputum mugs well from ENT (shudder). Ask any nurses about sputum mugs, we all have our personal waterloos.
I have found (from personal experience/anecdotal evidence, which, I might add, is a highly underrated method or research) that men fall into 2 categories of patients.
1. The wimp. They are the sort that believe that every cold is a deadly flu and take to their beds accordingly. In hospital they use narcotic pain relief accordingly. They will also argue with the nurses about why they should have it when they're sitting happily in an arm chair beside their bed (I may be exaggerating here).
2. The hero/idiot. This particular patient thinks it's girly/wimpy/whatever to admit that something is wrong with them. They will suffer in "silence", like they're fooling people. They would crawl with their bleeding stumps behind them to do a days work and say it was only a scratch while quietly going white in the corner. They refuse pain relief while fidgeting ferociously, saying that they're ok (sadly I'm not exaggerating unlike with the bleeding stumps scenario). We can all recognize these types. We are either married to/living with/related to one of them. I'm married to example No 2.
When 19 he got hit by a flying brick in the abdomen from a brick truck while on his motorbike. He subsequently had a laparotomy (fancy way of saying they opened him right up), they took his spleen out, sewed up his liver and a kidney. He discharged himself a week later, having lied and said his mother would be home to look after himself (she went to work). That is JUST 1 example of his foolishness. I could go on but it gets boring and repetitive. He found out that he needed his gall bladder out late last year. There was a long and involved path to his surgery, including disruption to gas supplies due to the floods, a fun night in an emergency department with abdominal pain, a lot of shouting from me (such things as: FFS just take some pain relief and no sausages for you), but we finally got there. He survived pain free the trip to the US (the wait staff always looked confused when I said I was having the burger and him the salad) and the lead up to the op. He did once voice the opinion that he might be ok and not need the op because he hadn't had any pain for ages, to which the shouting recommenced.

That was not the end of the whole sorry saga. No, no, no. Then there was the "I don't need a sick certificate/certificate for light duties, or even to take it easy. He went back to work q week later, trying to ignore the whole episode and when he came down with a virus 2 weeks later ended up going yellow. So we ended up back at the hospital. Ahhh, the circle of life.

I will follow up part 1 of the illness story with part 2: emergency department.

Don't think women are perfect patients. They're not, but their painfulness is more diffuse, if you will. They cover a broader spectrum that way. I may (when I work it out) write about them.

Do you have a story about men/males and their illness? Love to hear about it.