The best laid plans of mice and men, yada, yada, yada. It was my plan to have a serious relaxation session yesterday. Instead, I was telephoned by my sister-in-law and advised my father had been transferred to John Hunter Hospital at Newcastle because he had severe pain in his left elbow, and numbness from elbow to wrist. So, I travelled with my brother and his wife, and because only two family members were allowed in at a time, we took it turns (groups of two) to sit with Dad whilst he was in the ED undergoing some procedures such as a scan on his arm, and blood tests. He also had an ECG and the doctor was frowning, which worried me, and then someone said Dad has a pacemaker and the doc's brow smoothed as if thinking, 'Aaah. That explains it.' For the scan, I helped remove Dad's singlet (utilising those skills I have acquired in my job as a care worker for the aged and disabled), and he was lying on the bed with his arms out a bit (the left was being scanned and the right had an IV). He was bare-chested with a white sheet draped decorously over his lower half. His head was leaning slightly to his right. And so help me, all I could think of was the portrayals in Christian iconography of Jesus in his moment of suffering, if Jesus had been a pale old Aussie farmer in his eighties. Actually, portraying my father like this is probably just as realistic as the paintings we tend to see wherein Christ is depicted with fair skin, blue eyes, and long brown hair. I am no anthropologist, but it's pretty unlikely Jesus looked like that. But if I can just make another segue using religious metaphors, what is seriously UNGODLY are my father's toenails. The sheet moved a little, and Dad's unseemly feet were exposed. Where most people have toenails, Dad has these yellow great lumps of horned keratin. ('Hey, Dad, the dragon rang and wants its claws back'). Whilst waiting for test results, my brother and I had a cup of tea and he suddenly said, 'Dad's got to see a podiatrist; his feet looks like a fucking honey badger's!' Yes, ugly yellow horns with caked on dead flaky skin cells underneath. If anybody was eating whilst reading: my apologies.
But we were so exhausted. My sister-in-law was actually a little tearful. I am really, truly, utterly, without adulteration fucking FED UP with hospitals at the moment. Over the past few weeks I have taken my son to one, had my husband transferred by ambulance to one, and now it's my father in one. We ended up staying at a motel nearby and my father had an embolectomy carried out today. No general, just a block, and he didn't require a stent. He's doing well, happy as a clam, and me, my brother, and my sister-in-law are plumb tuckered out. My sister and her husband attended the hospital today, but I don't think they are as physically tired as us, although of course just as worried.
So now I'm just sitting at home, tired and irritable. My 9yo has decided, given his mother has been worn out and his father is somewhat incapacitated at present, to behave like a feral little pain in the arse. I am sick of shouting. I might be the next one in hospital to have treatment on the throat nodules I am bound to develop from all my bellowing.
So, Labor have a new leader in Bill Shorten. From what I've observed of the Labor party's treatment of past leaders, I don't think he'll have much time to really wear a butt groove into that chair. His mother-in-law is Governor General, so that will make for some interesting family BBQ time ('Sure, I'll mow the lawn for you, now can you do me a favour and sack Tony Abbott?'). That, by the way, is a joke everyone. And I understand the GG has sought advice and even offered a resignation, but advice she has received would indicate there is no conflict in her remaining Governor General.
Oh well, time to get ready for bed. Tuesday. Tuesday I will do some writing.
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