The Door Rattle

The sun had long ago cast it final shadow.  The night had no moon to show the way.  I had given up on anyone at my door.  I was comfortable in my recliner lounge chair when abruptly the security door began to rattle and voices boomed out.
   I knew what to expect but I had hoped it would not be so late.  With confidence I opened my front door expecting older children, even teenagers.  There stood before me were two little mites shouting out, 'Trick or Treat.'  They didn't appear to be any older than three or four.  I turned on the porch light and noted their Dad standing a few feet away.  Usually I just give away the lolly pops which I have ready at the door before wishing them well and closing the door.  Tonight I directed a question at the adult standing in the darkness.  I mentioned they were so young to be out so late at night. I suggested a torch. I noted they made a lot of noise and could scare the elderly ladies living alone further down the road.
   I could hear their Mum further away thanking me for the lollies.  I did not reply.  In previous years the little mites will come knocking on the door hours before darkness with their parents standing on the road to ensure they are safe.  Some parents come to the door.  I am happy to pop lollies in their bags and smile nicely at them.

   My kids were too big by the time Halloween became fashionable in Australia.  I never had to worry about Halloween outfits, lolly bags and door knocking.  I like to think we wouldn't have participated, but I am not entirely sure.  Australia appears to have embraced the Halloween celebrations.  Older Australians find it questionable and often scary.  Even Merv was subjected to Halloween celebrations at the HD club on Wednesday.  The staff dressed in scary outfits, complete with make-up.  He came home with a plastic spider on a cotton wool web on his shoulder.  He was not impressed and the spider went in the bin.
    I continued to think about the little kids rattling on my door.  What if a total stranger invited them into their house, no matter how innocent it maybe?  How would the parents hiding behind the hedge or standing in the road react?  Would the children be marched back home with an ongoing fear of what had started out as an innocent outing?

    Memories of my Brownie Days (Girls Guides) brought back the dangers of door knocking.  It was called 'Bob-a-Job,' 10cents (a shilling in those days) for each job which helped the home owner. Innocently I was knocking on doors in my local area.  Selling my services as a; car washer, sweeper, dishwasher or whatever the home owner had in mind.  This was the years long before selling Girl Guide cookies became popular. I was fortunate I was given jobs suitable to my small size and strength.  My only bad experience was being bitten by a dog keeping guard at his front door.  There was no one home at the time.  I was always proud when we handed in our little envelopes stuffed with shillings at our weekly meetings. 

    No longer can we safely subject our children to this style of fundraising.  It has long ago been replaced with selling confectionery, raffle tickets and sporting events.  I am happy to donate
    There is ongoing discussion on how today’s children are wrapped in cotton wool and not allowed to go out and explore their world.  I know when my children were primary school age I always had to know where they were.  It was a long time before mobile phones.  I did allow them to walk to their friend’s house but never in the dark.  Today many children are driven everywhere or a parent or older sibling will walk with them. 
    How far is too far? We are often confused.  We want our children to grow up to be independent and able to think for themselves. Unfortunately we hear continuously on the news about predators enticing children and teenagers into their cars, parks or homes.  There is no easy answer.

 

Never Get Lost

I laughed, had this man forgotten about social media?  His throwback question was not so relevant for today’s world.
Sean asked; 'What if we were marooned here with a broken boat with only each other and little else?  The last apple and cinnamon muffin had been consumed by hungry tourists. Lunch seemed a long way off but we thought about his not so relevant question.
I shouted out; "I had Optus coverage a few minutes ago, I would just ring emergency services!"  The man behind me confirmed my outburst, stating he had received all of his messages before morning tea.  Sean rolled his eyes and soldiered on with his question time.
"What way would you walk out of here?" he persisted after a few more leading questions.  Answers came from all directions and it was agreed we would head west towards Augusta the nearest town where rescuers would be found.

My fear of being lost stems from a school excursion in my early primary school years.  We had gone to the beach for a school excursion and somehow I had wandered from the group and found myself alone. I began to cry and two old ladies (everyone is old when you are young) pointed out my school group heading for the bus. I scampered up the beach as fast as I could go and was at the end of the line before I was even missed.  I had visions of living on the beach for years to come with no one to help me.  It is a story never shared until this day. The deep dark secret of inattentive childhood!

Needless to say getting lost anywhere, anytime is my number 1 'no, no!'

People who suggest it being a possibility soon lose their favour with me.  My new, 'Map My Walk,' app gives me much mis-guided confidence. It works by GPS and gives me a little map of where I have already walked.  My Google Maps app shows me where I'm going and even how long it will take me to arrive!  Miss Google Maps has a sadistic habit of taking me half way around the country to reach my destination, adding hours upon my otherwise short journey. I gather she does this in revenge. I am sure her job is on the line and she no longer cares.

Back to Sean on his sinking boat. No one else has mentioned the life- saving benefits of a EPIRB; compulsory equipment on boats.  They have successfully guided emergency services to many a boat in distress.   Sean rolls his eyes again.

Next time I book a cruise I will ask about their safety equipment and make sure my mobile has coverage.

Getting lost and the ramifications will never be an option for me!

on the sandbank with the ocean in front of us

The ocean to the left and the boat is on the sandbank of the Donnelly River mid-picture

Inside the Donnelly River Cruise Boat
 



Respite without Joy

I have spent weeks, maybe even months getting ready for today. 

A day to get everything ready, to check everything, to pack everything and make sure Merv has everything because today he goes into respite for two weeks which allows me to have a little 'me time.'

This has been happening twice a year for four years.  I used to take it for granted.  I travelled or just sat somewhere.  Just being what I said to my counsellor:  normal.  Normal people don't wash their spouses, clean their teeth and never have the choice to ask for their help.  Or maybe I am wrong.

I read magazines with amazing stories of people overcoming their disabilities and the joy they bring.  I find it difficult to find joy. 

Merv has Huntington's Disease, a challenging degenerative disease.  His health has declined steeply in the last six months.  His mobility is declining.  I wonder what the person in the street thinks as Merv stumbles by.  Only the other day he got up from his recliner and lost his balance bringing the side table crushing to the floor.  Fortunately he was better off than the table, which has been demoted to the bin after a crack the width of the table disabled it completely. 

Merv looked at my sheepishly as I helped him off the floor.  I suggested he used the lift chair for what it is!  The lifting part will help him stabilise his balance. I smile to myself. It is a good sign he can think and fight and not give in.

We were twenty minutes late in arriving for his respite.  I had packed his suitcase, wrapped a seatbelt around his shower chair (yes, we are asked to bring our own), dissected his wheelchair into little bits only to put it all together once we arrive.  I collected a pile of books and magazines for him to look at, none of them library books which would never be found again.  Our local library sells non fiction books a couple of times a year.  Merv has varied interests of not only sports and footy but Australia and places around the world we have visited together.  Books on these places are eagerly sought.

I almost forgot the tray of iced chocolate cupcakes I had cooked and frozen on Saturday.  A last moment memory.  I had no room in the car so I rested the tray on the upside down shower chair in the back seat.

When we arrived at respite I spoke with the staff and went through Merv's updated care plan and how to use the new Safe Straws to prevent the scary choking incidents of the last few months.

I emptied his suitcase, hanging his clothes in the wardrobe and finding a home for everything else.  I took him by the hand and showed him where to find his clothes and his beloved treasures.

I kiss him goodbye and hope for the best.  I pass the baton and move away.

I drive to Mel's house.  We are off on the bus to Pemberton tomorrow for a few days.  We have planned a wildflower tour and a boat cruise on the Donnelly River. 

It's going to take me a few days to relax and enjoy, but I know this time around it's a bit more difficult.

It Happened to Me

I was like a noisy mouse scuttling from one room to another.  Shuffling through papers, looking behind the dressing table, checking the same places over and over again.  Where did I put it?

It's not the first time I've been in such turmoil.  I have a four drawer filing cabinet but I still spectacularly lose things of great importance.

The house deeds are in the safe, I am sure of that, along with our passports and even my Singapore pearls (which I forgot to wear to my nephew's wedding).  I have made a mental note to wear them to Dustin's wedding next year, at least I hope!

Last night I was looking for Merv's blood test form.  There are two forms, one in my sweaty agitated hand while the other successfully evaded my hunting instincts.  With every fibre of my being I was going to find that elusive form, there would be no sleep until it lay together on the kitchen table with its other page!

The strange thing is when you are looking for something specific you find other items that you didn't even realise were missing!

During my hunt I found the wedding cupcake and buttercream recipes.  I put them on yet another pile ready for filing, possibly never to be seen again!

I stood, I thought, I retraced my steps, well the thousand steps I have taken since the GP scribbled out the blood test form and like Hercule Poirot I narrowed my search down.  I picked up my jewellery box and spied a plastic A4 envelope hiding underneath.  It looked promising.  Not only was the wayward blood test form folded within, it shared the space with maps of England and other non-related bits and bobs.  I have no idea why. What possessed me?  I will probably never know.

I rejoiced in my victory and sighed as I checked the time.  It was long after my bedtime and a busy day beckoned me tomorrow.

I make a mental note to file (in my four drawer filing cabinet) important papers from now on.  I then pick up a pile of papers and shove them in the bottom of my stationery cupboard.  I sigh and get ready for bed.

I could do with my own filing clerk, possibly a secretary?  Ridiculous, I know, but my mind wanders and thinks about an app to help people like me!  I already have a name for it and a marketing strategy; I just don't know how to create my, 'De-Clutter app.'

 

Fundraising

Life is full of twists and turns, mostly when you're not prepared; definitely when you're not looking!  I thought long and hard about my fundraising efforts in my not so short life.  I have flashbacks of myself as a young woman standing on a street corner rattling a tin for the Asthma Foundation.  Both kids suffered ongoing asthma from a very young age.  Melanie was in Princess Margaret Children's Hospital over forty times until she was twelve, twice in ICU.  I know I rattled that tin at least once, I am not so sure about the following year.

I have cooked umpteen cup-cakes for school fetes and manned the stalls with passionate vigour! I have been involved in car washes for church fundraising, more cake stalls, quiz nights, movie nights and the list goes on.

In 2007 I joined an inspired group of walkers at my work.  We completed the 12kms City to Surf fundraiser at the end of August to raise funds for ACTIV.  Was this the beginning of my passion for walking?

I joined a local Lions Club in 2009 and became involved in fundraising once again.  Fortunately a lot of their fundraising came from a weekly flea market (mainly second hand goods) but there was always something to get excited about.

The not for profit organisation I worked for in the last few years held a few fundraisers.  The Easter Fair at the local river park was the biggest.  I encouraged volunteers to fill shifts, writing their names on my roster sheet.  They willingly filled countless balloons with helium, sold handmade crafts and advertised our role in the local community.  It was fun on the day but a lot of hard work beforehand.  The end result made all the preparation worth-while.

Next year I am on a fundraiser of a lifetime.  I am not doing it alone.  Big sister and possibly little sister and I are walking across England (yes, not a typing mistake) from west to east.  Next July we are booked to complete the Wainwright Walk, a staggering 304km walk through the beautiful Lake District, over rugged mountainous hills to the Yorkshire Moors and finally to Robin Hood Bay on the east coast. 

Big sister says she has longed to complete the walk for a few years and decided to make it so much more by fundraising for Huntington's WA.  After hearing her plan, I quipped, "Can I come too?" 

The stage was set, the preparation wheel is turning.  The training has begun!
Today with a slight patter of rain we began our first training walk in Whiteman's Park, a large park reserve in Perth's northern suburbs. 

Big sister had her map ready; we had our hiking gear and poles at the correct height.  Off we went but no matter how many times we consulted our printed map we ended up going the wrong way!  We laughed hysterically as we realised we were just going around in circles!  After walking for two hours we headed back to the car park.

Big sister and I are both very grateful we have booked a guided walk next year.  Otherwise we shudder at the thought of where we could end up!

Our first hike together

 

The Promise

A marriage proposal is a promise between two. 

A few weeks ago Dustin proposed to his girlfriend Grace and she was happy to accept.  Last week they held a lunch at a local restaurant to celebrate their commitment.  It had me thinking about what love means today.  No one bats an eyelid when a couple announce they are going to move in together.  Many stay together for years, sometimes forever without taking it further.
 
On the other hand when a marriage proposal is offered and accepted the world becomes a crazy place.  Whether the planned wedding is large and expensive or small and homely there are ongoing plans and decisions to be made.
A down to earth couple suddenly becomes engrossed in everything white, romantic and grossly overpriced! 

My memory takes a sideways slant as I relive our time in Beijing in 2009.   A young Chinese couple were photographed in the Hutong area in full western bridal attire.  I asked our guide where they would have married.  In a temple, a church or a garden setting?   He replied they would be getting married in a few days, it is their tradition to have their photos taken beforehand!  An interesting twist to a western tradition. 

Merv and I will be celebrating our 38th anniversary later this year.  Our wedding was small and personable.  I hired my wedding dress to reduce costs.  There is nothing I regret. Even our not so glamorous honeymoon.  We travelled to the south west staying in cheap hotels and finished in a two man tent for a night.  Merv began wheezing due to the cold night air and we spent most of the night sitting in the car.  Fortunately his asthma disappeared a few years later!

My nephew is soon to marry his bride in a 'pop -up' wedding.  A glammed up registry office wedding at a fraction of the cost of many weddings.  I like the idea.  It provides a beautifully memorable ceremony which allow the couple to put their hard earned money to life's necessities. My two sisters and I are flying interstate to attend.  Pop up weddings are new to Australia and we are excited to witness our nephew's wedding.  Will the pop up just be a fad?  Time will tell.  Marriage itself will never be a fad.  It is here to stay, to enjoy and to remember.

To Tell or Not

Everyone laughed when Paul Hogan in the movie Crocodile Dundee responded to the question of counselling.  He flippantly remarked in his home town in outback Australia if you have a problem you tell Wally and he tells everyone in town. This brings it out in the open, and results in no more problem!  I had always agreed with this remark.  That was until four years ago.

I first saw a counsellor in 2010 after Merv became ill.  I could not stop crying.  I cried throughout the day, I cried at work, I cried at night.  I cried for four months and then I stopped.  I haven't cried since.  Not because the counsellor, 'fixed me' but with her help I was able to deal with my suddenly changed life in a less emotional way.

We all knew one day Merv would become ill.  He was tested almost twenty years ago when we found out he was HD positive.  As early as 2008 I could see the writing on the wall, there were signs.  I pretended he would just keep on going, but he didn't.  He became unwell and I fell apart.

A counsellor was suggested and I accepted because I suddenly found myself unable to cope.  Kate was lovely.  I thought at first she was too young, she was about thirty.  She seemed so young, what did she know?  Kate turned out to be an angel.  She listened to me as I cried; she gave me strategies to make life bearable again.  She helped me through my trauma.

Kate applied for another job elsewhere and soon she was gone.  I had stopped crying and putting her strategies to work I carried on with life, but I was sad to see her go.

Four years later during one of Merv's many service reviews the question was again raised.  Do I want counselling?  I took some time to think about it.  Much has changed in Merv's life in the last four years.  It's time to talk about it.

Yesterday I met with another counsellor.  Just like Kate, she was calming, listened well and gave me feedback.  I didn't cry.  I will see her again.

It is good to talk with family and friends about my life and receive their love and support.  I can't do without it. 

My counsellor can see things which I can't and maybe others close to me find difficult to share.