Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Richard spent last night in hospital.  We'd had a neighbour over for dinner, a neighbour who'd suddenly become a widow when her husband died in bed in the wee hours just over a month ago.  She is coping but needs friends and family support hence the invite to come for dinner and an episode of Midsomer Murder.  At 7:25, after dinner had finished, she was heading outside for a smoke while I entered the living room heading for the tv.  As we were both turned away from Richard neither of us saw him fall.  He'd stood up from the kitchen stool to start on the dishes when he felt dizzy and fainted.   Richard's a big man, not fat but tall and solidly built.  When he fell he made a sound like a muted explosion.  The floor shook.

I turned and he was on his back, unconscious, eyes open but unfocussed, lips white and arms faintly twitching by his side.  After the first moment of disbelief, I grabbed the phone, pulling the books and papers from the stand, and rang the ambulance.

Our poor neighbour was in shock.  She'd just been through a similar episode, calling the ambulance while she tried to rouse her unresponsive husband.  Tragically, he never responded.  He had already died from a massive cardiac event.  She stood in shock and had to be asked several times before she went and got a pillow to put under Richard's head.

That's how quickly it can happen.   One minute you're enjoying a glass of wine and dinner, the next you're on the floor unconscious and trembling. 

The ambos came, two capable and confidence inspiring young people.  (One bright spot, the woman, a horse enthusiast was also enthusiastic about my paintings.  It's rare that someone comes into the house and raves about them, she did.  I was quite chuffed).  But they knew their job and their attitude was great; friendly, professional, even humorous.  Because of Richard's age and the fact that he'd fainted he was off to hospital.  I followed, waiting perhaps half an hour before leaving as I'd had 2 glasses of wine and didn't want to be *done* for DWI. 

All the tests were fine.  Normal everything.  Better than normal but they said he had to stay overnight just in case. 

While we are extremely lucky to have a local hospital and good doctors (the doctor on duty looked like a  nerdy high school student complete with thick framed glasses, an untidy mop of brown hair and thin pale arms) spending hours waiting to be admitted and then more hours waiting to be discharged is not fun.  The friendly but overbright demeanour of the nurses, accustomed as they are to talking to the hearing impaired elderly, the ticking and buzzing of machines, the muted slap of shoes up and down the corridor, the look of patients who won't be going home again, all speak the language of illness.   It is a world apart from the bright daylight world of the healthy.  Last night, one curtain over, a young man gasped in pain.  Have no idea what was wrong with him but every few minutes he breathed agony.  He didn't groan or cry or moan, the pain was all in his breath.  He was removed to another hospital.

In Richard's ward were 3 elderly gentleman.  Richard had gone for xrays.  The man in the bed opposite was asleep, one had zither framed himself outside to visit with friends, and the third, an extremely deaf 84 year old with the largest eyes, sat quietly by himself on a chair.  I was doing a crossword to fill the time.  Suddenly the biggest sheet-ripping fart split the silence.  I wanted to shout Well Done! a la Noel Coward but no one there would've heard.

Richard is home now, sleeping.  He had a crap night, as did I.  The consensus is that Richard's episode had to do with his Parkinson's medication.  It can cause a drop in blood pressure when the patient goes from a sitting to standing position (although, despite numerous tests, they couldn't get his blood pressure to deviate from normal).  It can also cause dizziness.  So we'll see.  He goes to see the doc tomorrow. 

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Went to Mt. Cootha yesterday, strolled the gardens for hours with friends.  Pocketed many fallen seeds which I'm saving to plant at our new property, as most of them are rainforest type seeds and will fare better in a wetter climate.  It is, again, as usual, very dry and dusty here.  I long long for the day we move to our new home in the Tweed.  I know learning patience is good for me, that it will happen when the time is right, but, that inconvenient but ... why not now?  The house is ready, we are ready. 

Every morning while feeding the birds, sometime around 6:30 a jet flies overhead.  It's fuselage catches the morning sunlight and burns white and gold and I know it glows from the sea sun.  Not our sun which rises over rocky outcrops and burnt grass, but the wet yellow sun rising from a blue green sea.  An absolutely nonsensical way to look at things.  Nevertheless I can feel, almost smell that sea sun reflecting from the Coolangatta bound jet.  And I sigh.  And take a deep breath.  Another lesson in patience.  Not learned.


Monday, August 4, 2014

In the words of Madeleine Albright, 'The world's a mess,' yet just now, walking from one room to another I am overcome with an overwhelming sense of wellbeing.  How can that be so when there is so much trouble, strife, war, cruelty, stupidity and downright ignorance in the world?  I don't know. Because I am alive?  Because in my tiny corner of the world, right now, right this minute, I can still walk, I breathe, I have all my marbles, I am without thirst or hunger, I have enough clothes to warm me, in fact my house is warm while it is cold outside?  I could go on but that is the drift.   Some of us are so intent on what's wrong that we try and kill one another (or the planet) to make it right.

Saturday, August 2, 2014

I took the bull by the horns  and have volunteered to tutor immigrants in conversational English.  Normally I would have said no without having to think about it.  I met Regina at the bickies and coffee mini-wake after Roger's funeral.  Regina coordinates the Lockyer Multicultural Centre (I think).  She asked me. 

While I was mulling it over I realized that Life puts things in your way for a reason and maybe saying Yes to Life makes more sense than saying no.  I didn't know I needed to tutor immigrants or it isn't something I would have sought as necessary yet it is, of course, perfect.  I'm insular, like solitude and my own business.  And the older I get the more these tendencies are calcifying into rigidity.  Not good.  So I thought I would say yes.  I can always quit.  It's voluntary.  It's not life or death but it might be good for me as well as helping others.  And, in the end, it's not about me, it's about them.  So I went.

About 22 immigrants turned up; Korean, Japanese, Bangladesh(ians?), Taiwanese, Malaysians, Sudanese and a woman from Oman.  These are the nationalities I managed to catch.  But I didn't listen to the stories of all 22 people so there may have been others.  We separated into groups.  I attached myself to Nola, a primary school teacher (the volunteers were all teachers or university lecturers - so these unselfish people work full time jobs then devote one evening a week to helping others).  We had 8 people, a great mixture of nationalities.  All of them young.  One young man on a bridging visa so he isn't allowed to work or go to school - but he can learn English with us because we cost nothing.  The Asians were backpackers with working visas doing it tough cutting lettuces on farms or packing vegetables in unheated sheds.  But they were educated people; a physics teacher, a biology teacher, a computer programmer among them.  Educated and with a strong desire to improve their English.

So it was good.  I found it hard, not because they were difficult.  They were lovely, laughter came easily to all of them.  And they were shy too and afraid they wouldn't do well.  Remember talking to Ellie and Louann, both Korean.  Conversatonal English is just that so we had a 3 way conversation.  Normally in a social situation like that when I feel a bit overwhelmed I just make some excuse and go away for a breather (why do I find interaction so hard?) but I couldn't because that's what it was all about. 

We're meeting on Tuesday (the tutors) as a curriculum must be created and a plan put into place.  Despite my protestations as to my ignorance (the only thing I've ever taught is beginning Tai Chi and with that I mostly just had to move, not speak), they seem to want me.  But then as there are 40 Bangladeshians due next week along with the originals we'll be seriously short-staffed.  Will just have to take it as it comes and not worry so damn much. 

And I do find their youth and enthusiasm engaging.  And their toughness.  The backpackers are entirely different to the asylum seekers.   The tutors were discussing how they would teach the Moslems.  Because we aren't equipped to separate the men and women, or to string a curtain down the middle of the classroom, they will have to be taught together.  They decided the best way would be to put the women in front and the men behind.  And there I will be; bareheaded, in trousers with my arms and neck showing (and in summer, legs) with these men thinking God knows what horrible things about the shamelessness of Western women.  Should be interesting. 

On a squealy fist pumping note, I won first place with my graphite drawing Birth of a Dryad at the Gatton Show.  Also best exhibit for 2 classes.  Even got a whimsical little trophy and $20.  Really made my day.