MOOMINS M.C.

Ahh the sweet pangs of muscular pain.
There's nothing quite like testing to see just how far you can push muscle groups, which have been cut up and sewn back together is there?
A bit like when you get in touch with your inner moron and stretch rubber bands to see how far you can stress them before they snap, and usually end up causing yourself some form of pain.
My first day back at physio and hydro went about as well as I'd expected, that is to say about as painful as I'd imagined it would be.
The aquatic treatment was pretty good though.
The more I attend hydro therapy, the more it appears to take on the atmosphere of a bath house, not the pain factory it is supposed to be.
A lot of hanging around and talking to other patients, not without performing the prescribed exercises of course, but none the less a lot of:

"Did you hear about Ange? He's got to wait another two years to get his ankle sorted."

or

"Looks like I have to get a complete knee replacement, but I have to wait until March next year."

or

"Yeah, they had to remove the plate that I'd broken coz my femur busted again and also realign the hip joint by 10 degrees."


All that stuff that you just aren't supposed to utter in polite conversation for fear of making someone queasy or uncomfortable.
It's rather refreshing to be able to have those conversations with people who are all chewing through their own various road trauma related injuries with as much gusto as a Tasmanian Devil tucking into a piece of rotting 3 day old road kill.
I'm thinking of getting a bunch of us to lobby for an espresso machine to be installed by the swimming pool.

There is a certain understanding, comprehension and empathy between these people.
A type of club with thousands of members, which doesn't discriminate at all as to who is eligible to join.
Unfortunately in order to gain entry to this club, one must go through a trying and painful initiation and many have died trying.
Hopefully none have been chewed by Tasmanian Devils in the process.
Only the strong and extremely lucky survive to partake in the chewing of the fat in the pool of pain.





Found this little fella doing laps around our house this afternoon.
I think it might have been the one that actually took me from the cricket oval to the hospital that fine March morning.
If you find yourself in one of these you may well be on your way to joining the club.


.

I think I need help.
As a matter of fact, I'm bloody positive of it.
I can't stop listening to the three cd's of Muse my sister and G.M. had sent over from Ireland.
I just can't help it!
And I'm so jealous that they just saw them perform in Berlin.
My good mates Wolfy and Trent are coming up to catch the Big Day Out concert in January and apparently have a spare ticket for me.
Assuming I will be mobile enough to take up their offer I might actually see Muse live for myself, that would be nice eh?

I find that when I read books, the music I listen to becomes a sort soundtrack and at the moment, Tom Robbins's Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates looks like forever being associated with Muse.
Not a bad combination really.
If anyone's interested, it's a top read and I highly recommend it.


Gotta confess that I'm quite looking forward to Wednesday's return to physio and hydro therapy.
I have been slowly getting more and more bored and frustrated, sitting around the house with the occasional short crutch to the shops to break up the monotony.
All I can do at the moment is watch telly, dvd's, read my book, play my bass and find more useless crap on the internet.
My God there is so much of it out there too!!!
The camera's been sitting idle since coming home from hospital as there's not a hell of a lot to snap here at home and not a lot more at the shops either, but not being able to travel too well at the moment rules out any excursions to exotic locations.
At least I have my Homer Simpson comfy spot on the couch to alleviate my sore arse.
And the Tim Tams, they help too.


Family update:
It's my sis's birthday today today!
Happy birthday mate!!!!!! hugs and kisses to yer ya langer!!
Mum left for Poland today, off for a couple of months.
I have given her express instructions to enjoy herself as much as possible and not to worry as all the hard stuff is over for me.
I've finally been bolted together so the rest should all be downhill. Touch wood.
So they and G.M. will be having a white Christmas this year over at a couple of very long term family friend's place in Gdansk.


I'll buy a beer for anyone who can figure this one out:
01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01110011 01101111 00100000 01100010 01101111 01110010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110111 01110010 01101111 01110100 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01100010 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110010 01111001 00101110
If you can sus it out put it in the comments :)


.

Two and a half weeks after the surgery and I have finally managed to put on my right sock with my own hands!!!!
A quiet achievement this morning, unwitnessed by anyone except for my somewhat pained and strained self.
Like deep fryer oil into the salty paper wrapping of my fish & chips, normality is slowly seeping back into my life.


.

Wish I had one of these when I went camping a few weeks ago.
I would have been unstoppable!!!!!




A beautiful example of a masterfully crafted engineering solution to a very frustrating problem, or a result of an amorous encounter between Number 5 from Short Circuit and a piece of office furniture?
I'll let you decide.

After making the second of the two Short Circuit films, Number 5 retired from his thespian career as abruptly as he'd started.
No official reason was given by the studio or his manager for the sudden departure from the movie industry, but it was rumoured that Number 5 propositioned and deflowered a Macintosh Apple computer.
As the Apple was only 9 years old at the time Number 5 was looking at being the first non human to be charged with sex with a minor, until a settlement was agreed upon between the Apple's and Number 5's lawyers.
Last I heard he was working in an Office Works store somewhere in Arizona, which would explain the tank track wheelchair.


On the recovery front, I have been able to tie my right shoe laces as of a few days ago, although I still can't put a sock on my right foot by hand.
It's a case of turning the sock half inside out, manoeuvring my right foot into the sock whilst holding the unruly foot apparel down with my left toes and then when I have it on far enough, pulling it up with my hand.
To someone who doesn't know, I must look like a genuine intellectually and physically challenged chap, when I'm in the midst of wrestling with the sock.
I queried the surgeon about that yesterday and he said it was due to his "frigging around with the muscles", or as I've mentioned before, the cutting off and reattaching of the obstructing muscles.
I should be back in the hydrotherapy pool and physiotherapy gym as of Monday.
Woo hoo!!!
Be nice to get out of the house again.


.

I have recently realised how lucky I am, again.
My mate Rob G., who busted his leg skiing, recently telephoned me from triage.
Thankfully he wasn't in there for another physical ailment, he was actually working in the psych. hospital.
His surgical / orthopaedic experience has been rather unfortunate as he's got a staph infection.
That's right, one little operation and bang! Have some staph, thank you very much!
Although his particular case isn't as bad as some I'd heard about, it's still rather annoying I would imagine.
I remember being told of a cat at Epworth, who'd gotten a staph infection and it had got under the metal plate in one of his legs.
As a result he had to have to plate removed, the infection cleaned up and afterwards, another plate inserted in its place.
Rob's infection may not be as bad, but he is on antibiotics until August next year.
That's almost a year, and of course no drinkies for him in that period.
So that's Christmas, new year's, Easter and all that jazz, with no celebratory alcoholic beverages to ply his liver with.
Hmmmmm. Poor bastard.....
All that after one operation.
How lucky am I considering I've had ten of them so far and have managed to avoid the dreaded staph.

However, my luck did run a bit short today.
After travelling halfway across Melbourne to see the surgeon who finally bolted my pelvis into a semblance of it's former self, I had to wait over an hour for a bloody taxi to pick me up!
Three phone calls it took! Seriously!!!
Sitting on the reception's barely comfortable seats for that long played havoc with my tolerance of pain and eventually I succumbed to the pressure and paid a visit to the hospital's pharmacy to purchase some badly needed painkillers.
I tell you what though, these taxi companies are really something.
I wonder if the scientific community is aware of their achievements in the quantum physics field.
All this time, gifted scientists all around the world are trying to crack the secrets of space, time, etc and the taxi companies have been harbouring this knowledge all along!
The taxi company amazed me with their ability to instantaneously transport me from the hospital, to home and back to the hospital again.
And not just once, but twice within the space of one hour!
That is what the dispatcher claimed anyway, supposedly I had already been picked up.
Obviously, that's why I was standing next to the receptionist as she made the call again.
And again.
Form this I can deduct that I have to thank the taxi company because for the price of a single fare they actually transported me from the hospital, home, back to hospital, back home, back to hospital and back home again.
Now that's value for money!!!!!
The other mob that should be grateful is the scientific community, for without taxi companies it would still be attempting to prove and disprove various theories on the space time continuum.

A Nobel science prize for the cab companies please!!!!!


.

I got my staples removed on Monday and this is what it looked like after the nurse had had her way with me.
You can also see the bruising on the left side of the hip scar and the two scars from the previous operation.
Apologies if it offends, but you only have to look at it not live with it. :-p





So you can see why most positions like sitting and lying are most uncomfortable.
But I do have my couch, with its Homer Simpson comfy dent to keep me relatively unbothered by the pain!
I think I'm spending way too much time in it though.
I have been trying to get out a bit more this week and apart from crutching it to the shop on Monday, I went to see the doctor on Tuesday and went down the pub yesterday evening.
The visit to the doctor was a good idea, we spoke about trying to schedule more surgery to remove a certain offending piece of metal from my right leg, which will otherwise inhibit my rehab.
So I have to contact another surgeon and do the telephone run around with his secretary for a while.
I was convinced to go to the pub by one of my house mates and that turned out to be not such a good idea after all.
Although I did enjoy the couple of beers, the pain factor got a bit much and forgetting to take my painkillers that afternoon probably didn't help matters.
Well, physically it was a bad idea, mentally it was really good for me.
Methinks I may have tried too much too early, but one doesn't know these things until one tests them now does one?
Tomorrow I have to go back to Cabrini to see the surgeon who did the last operation, not particularly looking forward to the cab ride there and back, which is about 19km each way, I don't travel too well at the moment.
He should be able to give me some sort of time frame of when I can return to hydro and physiotherapy.
From what I can gather, the next two months will consist of recovery, going back to therapy, Christmas / new year's break, back to therapy, and eventually in late January / early February discussion about returning to work.
I would like to take a few weeks off though before that happens and have a bit of a holiday from all this, maybe travel interstate to visit friends who have offered long distance support.
We'll see eh.
I'm hoping that I can start using my right leg by Christmas time, that would be a really bonzer present.
For now I just have to let my body recuperate and wait.
Alas, more waiting...........
What's with the waiting?!
If I were a female I could have been a lady in waiting!
If I were a female I could have brought a pregnancy to full term before I could walk again!


.

My, how time flies when you're having fun.
I completely forgot that on Saturday I had clocked up 8 months since a certain interfering semi trailer had performed spontaneous skeletal ikebana on my sorry leather clad arse.
That's two thirds of the year gone and what have I got to show for it?
Some new scars?
Some new internal titanium jewellery?
Some relocated skin and muscle?
My new impersonation of Hopalong Cassidy?
Some new skills such as taking my own obs. or becoming adept at wielding a wheelchair on and off road?
A new found talent for cooking chickens on sticks over an open fire?
Or an entirely newly enlightened appreciation of road trauma and all that's associated with it?

Oh well, it's kept me off the streets eh.
And what am I doing the day after my 8 month anniversary?
Well, I'm recovering from a very painful and invasive operation that's what.
Just like this 19th day of the month, 8 months ago.
Seems like some things just don't change.
I can only hope that on the 19th of the next month I won't be in the same position.
In fact I hope that at that time I will be attempting to ambulate in the more traditional means, as was my wont before my life was turned inside out and upside down.


I would like to take this opportunity to offer up some advice for the great unwashed out there ( Just to clarify, I don't intend to apologise if this offends anyone ).
When you speak to someone who is clearly in a lot of pain and recovering from rather serious pelvic surgery, don't do the following:
Talk incessantly about yourself.
Talk incessantly about your relatively inferior "broken fingernail" surgery that you somehow think they might be interested in hearing about and seek their sympathy.
Invite them to take a ride on the back of a trike through the streets of Melbourne.
Talk incessantly about your money problems.
Talk incessantly about problems full stop.
Make bad jokes at their expense.
The person you are draining precious energy from is probably more concerned about their current pain level and thinking of ways in which to reduce it, even though they know there is not a hell of a lot they can do about it apart from chewing through the pain and discomfort.


.

Doesn't this damn donor site ease up any?!
For goodness sake, this is getting a bit ridiculous.
And a bit tiring to be quite frank, or maybe debilitating is the better word, I don't know it just stinks.
I'll stop whinging about it though and instead post up a couple of x-rays of the problem area.
The first one is part of a 3D reconstruction of a CT scan showing the rear of pelvis with the fracture clearly visible on the right side.
If you can't see it then you're either blind or completely inept at those spot the difference pictures.
On this one you can also see the loose bit of bone and the part of the tailbone that it's come off, must remember to ask the quack about that one, although I'm sure it's just fine and happy swimming around my rear end somewhere for the rest of my life.
Either way, that was the problem area and as the fracture went right through my hip joint socket it made walking on the right leg just a memory.
The following is a post surgery x-ray and this shows my pelvis sporting a fancy new plate and screw adornment.
You can also see some bone missing on the crest of the right hip, that would be the bone graft donor site.
( some previous x-rays can be viewed here )










It has been brought to my attention that the link to my sister's story about the Temptation taping is not accessible so I'm just going to pinch it and paste here, I'm sure my sis won't mind.

I promised you Pete Smith

And I’m finally delivering.

***********

Friday, October 20. It’s a bit before 8am and I’m sitting in reception with my old mate Bec, who is giggling.

The reason she’s giggling is the same reason I’m giggling, because Bec is about to go into a studio, stick her hands on a buzzer, answer some questions and try to win a whole bunch of stuff on a prime time television quiz show.

And Ed the host has just walked past - all jawline and tan and ferocious white teeth - looking like a man who could never have been anything but a quiz show host. And there are people sitting beside us who are wearing ill-fitting trouser suits and carrying the 2006 Brittanica Almanac in their handbags and earnestly discussing last night’s episode and how Harry really should have gone for the vault. These are quiz show people. It’s a whole other world.

And we get to spend a whole day in it.

***********

So Bec (who visited us earlier this year) has quite a talent for trivia. That talent got her through to being a contestant on Temptation. Naturally, since the taping was on while I was in Melbourne, I was invited along.

While Bec went to make-up to have seven pounds of foundation trowelled on her face, I waited in the dressing room and learned that the lawyer with the Scooby Doo tie had the humble ambition of being involved in the drafting of a new Australian legal system. And that the journalist in the way-too-baggy brown suit once met Keanu Reeves after entering a competition 436 times.

Just before the taping started, Jess, the contestant co-ordinator, took us all into a side room and gave us the rapid fire Temptation spiel:

"This game is all about psychology and speed. If you get one wrong, get over it, move on straight away, because if you spend too long kicking yourself you’ll have missed seven questions and you'll be out of the game. Keep focused on Ed. And no matter what prize you get in the fame game, Always Look Excited. We don’t want you looking pissed off because you got a set of gardening gloves – it’s a sponsor-driven show, we need to keep the sponsors happy, so just put on a happy face and think E-Bay."

Words of wisdom, I tell ya.

***********

They were taping five episodes on the day and it turned out Bec’s was last, so we spent much time hanging round and watching her rivals. The blonde solicitor who wore a rather inappropriate norg-revealing red dress and killer red stilletos (and whose ambition was to keep expanding her shoe collection) surprised no-one when she failed to answer a single question correctly. Sure, she was obviously smart to actually get on the show, and nerves clearly got the best of her, but if you’re going to be blonde and booby, I do think it’s essential to try and NOT fit the stereotype of being dumb as well.

All through the day, our man Pete Smith was there, entertaining the studio audience. For the non-Aussies reading this, Pete is a bit of a pop culture icon back home. Been the voice of Channel Nine for as long as I’ve been watching telly. So to see him in person, making really bad unfunny jokes that you somehow can't help laughing at, was quite a treat.



Here we have Pete and Lucky Phil (the cameraman from “this is Lucky Phil” fame on Hey Hey) performing a tune with a Garry Lyon puppet. And if you thought that looked hi-laaar-ious, how about the banter... “Is that his Yves Saint Laurent shirt?” “No, it’s his Brotherhood of St Laurent shirt”. Ha!



And there’s Bec, sitting pretty on $25.

Didn’t quite reach the heights of $245 as she did while practising her buzzer technique before taping started but she didn’t do badly at all. Won herself a dishwasher. Answered some pretty good questions. Was never going to get further than the one show because the guy on her left was quite the genius at not only buzzing in first but having all the right answers. But at least she had the satisfaction of seeing the carry-over champ in the Scooby-Doo tie (who spent the time before his show sitting in the studio audience practise-buzzing every time a question was asked) beaten nice and soundly.

And she got her hair curled all pretty-like. Can’t beat that...

.

Back home again.
Mum picked me up from the hospital and although she did her best to avoid all the potholes and bumps in the road it was still quite uncomfortable.
I found myself hanging my body weight off the handle above the door quite often to reduce the weight and movement on the right flank, but it was still rather trying.
Imagine what a taxi ride would have been like?

We pottered around the house for a bit, had some of Mum's fantastic meaty tomato soup for lunch and relaxed with a viewing of Zoolander, which never fails to amuse ( man he reminds me of George W Bush ).
I must say that the couch in the living room is far more comfortable than the hospital bed with all its infinite adjustments.
The first night in my own bed was pretty good I must say, until the painkillers wore off sometime in the morning.

The bone graft donor site is still quite painful and irritating.
Having had two donor sites before I was a bit surprised how long the pain from this one is lingering on for, mind you I don't think the previous two were as extensive as this one though.
Being where it is too, on the crest of the right hip, it really does restrict my movement.
I can't for example bend down to put on my right sock or shoe, not that that's a problem at the moment, but it does get rather annoying having to be mindful of how I move my body all the time.
The rather large incision on my right butt cheek is much larger than the donor site and is, but is far less a nuisance and even less painful.
Oh well, what can you expect when they carve great big chunks off you bone structure eh.

Cam cooked up a wonderful green chicken curry and that seemed to have sorted out my digestive issues brought on by the hospital stay.
Now it's just a case of killing more time at home and waiting for the pain to subside.
Hopefully by Monday when the nurse comes around to remove the numerous staples, I should be in far better shape.
Till then, it's dvd's and internet for me to kill the time.



.

You may remember me harping on about winning a trivia night a few weeks back.
Well one of the team members, Bec, was on another quiz last Friday.
That's right, those who were watching Temptation would have seen her winning a dishwasher.
My sister who went along for the taping has a nice little account of that day right here.
I must say, the champ from the night before was one of those blokes with a cartoon character tie and would not have looked out of place on the tv show "The Office" ( the English one, not the pathetic lame American imitation ).
And I couldn't help but give a little fevered chuckle when Livinia Nixon saw the tie and said:


"You're just such a nutty crazy kind of guy aren't you?"


The level of sarcasm was way up there with the best Black Adder could offer, but it was so neatly wrapped in TV sincerity and tied with a ribbon consisting of a most disarming smile like Livinia can produce at the drop of a hat, that only people sensitive enough could pick up on her little piss take.


Well, my stay at Cabrini is coming to a close and I'll be back at home on Wednesday.
A bit of rest and convalescence is in order I think.
Hopefully when I get my staples removed on Monday I will be in a relatively back to normal state, or at least a lot more mobile and with most of the pain having dissipated.
The surgeon brought in the new x-rays today and showed me exactly what he'd inserted.
The size of the plate and the six self tapping screws was a lot larger than I expected.
A couple of other things I noticed on the CT scan 3D reconstruction were a couple of loose bits of bone floating around my bum.
I managed to match them to missing pieces in my tail bone.
They obviously don't seem to be a concern to anyone, but it is pretty weird knowing there are loose chunks just hanging around inside your body with nothing to do anymore.
I guess I have to add one more fracture to my list.


Oh, and I had another school us parked up my bum again today.
Can't figure out why though, as I've been taking poo tablets for two days and even drank a sickly sweet syrup designed to get things started.
Thankfully this one wasn't one of those 40 seater ones, but more of a mini van and I managed to get rid of that one all by myself with no assistance.
And there was no nurse or physio on hand to tell me that I should feel good about myself because I achieved something today!
I hope this doesn't become a regular thing eh........


.

Things are slowly getting back to normal.
I was able to get out of and into bed by myself today, all be it much slower than normally.
Even went for a couple of short hops on the crutches.
The good news is that the surgeon visited today and we spoke about my release from here.
He asked me if I actually wanted to go back to rehab and I told him that I didn't particularly feel a need to.
So according to him, I should be able to go home sometime this week.
I still have to reach a point when I can sit down without leaning to one side and having to prop myself up because of the pain in the right flank.
It would also be good to be able to bend forward to a decent angle without wincing, but I guess all this will come in good time.
Overall I think I'm progressing pretty well with this particular surgery, especially when you consider how much cutting and shutting and grinding and screwing together was involved.


Funny thing is, Gino popped in on the weekend and dropped off some mail for me.
One of the letters was from the Alfred hospital, informing me that I am booked in to have a filter removed from an artery in my right leg that was inserted around the groin area way way back around the initial surgery back in March.
I remember being wheeled in to have my arteries and veins checked ( it's called catheter angiography ).
There was a tv screen mounted on the ceiling, on which I watched a live x-ray display of my right leg.
A radioactive fluid was injected into my right leg's bloodstream, which then showed up as black on the screen.
It started as a thick line that travelled from my groin and then started to break up into many other smaller lines as it rapidly painted a live image of my circulatory system.
It was a strange feeling seeing into my own limb like that, feeling the warmth of the fluid spreading down into my leg and watching the little black lines snaking their way throughout it.
The idea was that if there were any ruptured or damaged blood vessels, this particular test would highlight them before they became a problem.

After that was all over, I had the filter fitted.
This was just as much a foreign experience and a pretty bizarre feeling.
Under local anaesthetic, a small incision was made in my groin and an artery was pulled out from my body.
Although I felt no pain, I did feel the pressure internally of the artery being stretched and pulled through.
It was then cut open and the filter inserted into it.
It was at that point that I felt a warm stream of my own blood running down my groin, leg and arse.
Not a nice feeling.
The artery was sealed and sprang back into my body like a piece of elastic, as it was released from the grip of the angiographers.
The filter is supposed to trap any possible blood clots as they travel back towards the heart and possibly towards the brain.

And after all that, just as an added complementary bonus, they shoved a rubber hose straight up my jap's eye.


"Now this may feel a little strange and uncomfortable."


No shit! Liquid things are supposed to be flowing out of there, not solid ones inserted!
Let me tell you there is no feeling quite like someone or something getting hooked on your catheter tube.
It's a lot like someone trying to pull you off the bed by your bladder and other associated bits.


So while I am lying here recovering from one my tenth surgery ( think it's my 10th ), I can safely say that there will be at least two more in the next two months.
As well as having the filter removed on the 8th of January, I will need to have the screw removed from my right thigh in order to resume rehab exercises in preparation for my return to the land of the bipedal.
Then of course down the line sometime, I will need to go back in to the chop shop to have the two rods running the length of my thighs, the collarbone and outer forearm plates taken out as well.


.

Big day today.
BIIIIGGGG day!
My plan today was to get out of bed, go to the toilet and have a shower.
That would've been enough physio for the day and I could finally wash off all the fever sweat.

Months and months ago I said there would be no more poo stories.
Well, I lied.
So if you are eating your lunch, are easily offended or just don't like poo stories ( and let's face it, who doesn't like a good poo story? ) I suggest you scroll down and only read the last paragraph.
As for the rest of you, I present my misfortune for your reading pleasure ( coz it's always funny when it happens to someone else ).


After not going to the toilet for 5 days I really needed to go.
Only problem was, the morphine combined with the lack of movement had essentially produced something akin to a house brick in my rear exit.
I don't know if it's possible, but I went into labour.
No seriously, I did!
I spent about an hour and half on the toilet, trying to persuade the freeloading little squatter to vacate the premises, with absolutely no success.
You see the nature of this surgery required the good doctor to actually cut off some muscles to gain access to the pelvis and then reattach them afterwards.
These particular muscles are the ones you use when you cough, laugh or in my case, have a pressing and urgent need to snap one off.
So the last few days, I have been asking people not to make me laugh because it huts like hellfire!
And whenever I cough, it's that kind of Zoolander "I think I'm getting the black lung" feeble male model cough.
I was stuck.
Due to the truly astounding amount of pain from the internal and external operation sites, I just couldn't get enough push going to back the school bus out of the garage door made for a small family sedan.
After and hour and a half of sweating, heavy breathing, standing, sitting, repeatedly telling the nurse that "Yes I'm ok thank you", I was finally beaten.
I thought to myself:


"Well, you're going to have to call in the medical big guns, whatever that may entail."


After resigning myself to once again kissing my dignity goodbye and letting the medical staff have their ways with me, I finally buzzed for nurse assistance.
I had visions of lying spread eagle on the bed with some great big matron turning up with a massive tube or hose, pumps, buckets and all sorts of contraptions.
I was pleasantly surprised when the nurse brought in a small tube about half the size of a match box, with a little pipe a couple of inches long on the end.
What I was not pleasantly surprised about was the latex glove and satchel of lubricant she presented along with it.
I was finally going to have to experience what all those poor alien abductees have been complaining about for decades.
I opted to self probe, at least that way I could be violated in private and not on display, presenting to the medical staff.
I'm sure the nurse was more than relieved that I'd chosen that option.
Apparently you had to squirt the contents inside the offending orifice and then...............wait.
So I went back to bed and to take my mind of the traumatising self molestation I just had to endure, watched some motorsport for an hour or so.
Eventually I returned to the delivery room and what do you know?
It worked!!!!!!
I gave birth to a not very healthy 5 day old poo.
Apparently the content of the little tube was some sort of industrial strength poo melter.
Amazing stuff really!

You have to wonder who comes up with these products, how they test them, who they test them on and who are the poor sods who have to trial the products that didn't quite work like the scientists claimed they would?
I mean, fancy turning up to the lab with your substantially constipated rear end, being handed this product and told to go and shove it up your arse.
Then waiting in hope that in a half hour or whatever, all your problems will be solved, only to be severely and painfully disappointed with the lack of predicted results.
And you can't even get the satisfaction of returning the product to the place of purchase, throwing it in the face of the person who sold it to you and getting your money back!

After all that was over I finally managed to have my shower.
If I could I would have curled up, foetal position in the corner of the shower cubicle, scrubbing myself silly with steel wool and mumbling "Dirty, so dirty. Unclean, must clean."
Just kidding, but I did feel so much better after the shower and was able to lay down, relax for a while and compose myself before accepting visitors.


.

I had my first attempt at standing up today.
It needed two extra people and a zimmer frame, but I got there.
I put up token resistance by asking if we could do this tomorrow, but it didn't work.
Painful? Yes.
Painfully slow? Yes.
Slow process.
I kept myself nice though.
Even when the physio and nurse were trying to convince me that I should feel really good about myself to have achieved something today, I managed to restrain my mouth from letting fly with some acerbic vitriol aimed squarely at them and their saccharin approach.
Yeah right............achieve this M.F.!!!


I've noticed the drip machine pump makes this strange sound constantly.
It really reminds of the bloody pigeons at home sometimes.
It's even rather haunting.
Can't get away from the little rats!
Or maybe I'm just going troppo?


Quote of the day: "Gee it's a lovely day outside today isn't it?" - one of the nurses.


Ah yup. Whatever.....


I try to keep this non political, but joy oh joy!!!
The Democrats control Congress in the U.S. and that little turd who's been causing nothing but trouble for decades is out.
That's right Rumsfeld is gone.
And who should he be replaced with?
One of Bush Senior's good buddies.
Jobs for the boys eh.......
One thing I will miss is the Rumsfeld quotes, although I'm sure George W. Zoolander will pick up the slack.
Here is a selection of classic quotes from the former Defence Secretary that Roger sent me:

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns - the ones we don't know we don't know." - this quote won the "Foot in Mouth" award from the British Plain English Campaign in 2003.

"I believe what I said yesterday. I don't know what I said, but I know what I think... and I assume it's what I said."

"We do know of certain knowledge that he (Osama Bin Laden) is either in Afghanistan, or in some other country, or dead."

"I would not say that the future is necessarily less predictable than the past - I think the past was not predictable when it started."

"Oh goodness ... I shouldn't say 'I don't think so', although that's what I think."

"If I said yes, that would then suggest that that might be the only place where it might be done which would not be accurate ...
necessarily accurate ... it might also not be inaccurate, but I mean ... I'm disinclined to mislead anyone."


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Ouchy hurties is probably the best way I can describe the feeling when they rolled me over for the obligatory bed sore rub down.
Yes, I've been reacquainted with my old mate pain again.
I found that lying there and not moving much, the pain was quite tolerable.
As soon as I was asked to move though, oh boy!
Got a very mild fever as well, but that's expected I suppose.
I had my two drain tubes removed today as well, that was another moment of calling on Sister Morphine for assistance.
It really does feel strange having two 20cm long tubes pulled through your body and out.

Slow journey, this recovery business.


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Operation Hip To Be Square is done and dusted.
I'm now sporting a lovely new screw, metal plate and bone graft on my acetabulum.
According to the surgeon it went very well and although it was quite a serious and complex bit of surgery, I actually feel pretty good after it.
It doesn't even feel anywhere near as painful as the last one.
There's a couple of tubes hanging out of my side and and some lovely new scarring, but overall I'm in fine form and spirits.
I really do think those 4 days in the bush helped a lot, I don't know how, but they did.
Now for a bit of recovery.


Michelle has brought to my attention that apparently I own a café in Hobart.
Check it!




Some snaps from the weekend for your enjoyment.

As I sit here, with the Howqua River hanging over and the surgery now imminent, the little bit of high country bush keeps tinging my eyesight with the infinite variety of greens and browns.
Four days in the scrub with the only campsite visitors being 6 fishermen and 7 horses certainly do the soul some good.

The spot we camped at had been blocked off to cars and therefore no campers had enough gumption to bother carting all their camping crap down a couple of hundred meters of bush track.
Good for us, no annoying neighbours and the only straight lines were our tent poles.
The rest of the time we had a visual and aural feast.
The burbling river, the abundance of avian life and the sound of the wind through the trees were only rarely punctuated by the sound of tranquillity ( two stroke dirt bikes ) and serenity ( four stroke dirt bikes ) on the road high up.
Blue sky days and crystal clear nights with a full moon illuminating the surrounding bush was just a bit too much.
Not a sprinkle of rain, which is the first time the Melbourne Cup camping trip has not had a hint of wetness.
What more could one ask for?
It also gave me a chance to practice some night photography, which was a bit of a learning curve, but so worth it!
I actually managed to get some decent shots, using 2 minute exposures and the like.

Down river were the “other camp sites”: the horse people, the trail bike people and the kids.
Or as we labelled them, “the MacKenzies”.
The MacKenzies over time took on a life and character of their own ( according to the values and presumptions we placed upon them ).
If we ever have offspring of our own, we will surely warn them of the MacKenzie mob down river.
The MacKenzies are of low moral fibre, breed like rabbits and have always been represented in all societies and cultures throughout history.
They are known by another name sometimes, redneck hillbillies.
I’m sure that even in Neanderthal Man times, there was a bunch of MacKenzies down river somewhere.
What kind of folk take their noisy trail bikes, chainsaws and generators into the bush where people are trying to get a bit of peace and quiet?
These people can not be trusted I tell you!
Not to worry, we had a great time, sitting around the fire, swimming in the river, seeing fish ( unable to carch any though ), cooking chickens on sticks over the fire, drinking beer and wine, cooking rabbit stew, beef and vegetable pasta, hearty breakfasts of toast, eggs, bacon, mushrooms, onion, etc.
All done on the fire with no gas, just like nature intended eh?

The hammock set up worked a treat ( thanks Bec! ), didn’t fall out once and I think I’ve found a whole new way of camping!
Crutching it through the scrub and getting around the campsite in a wheelchair wasn’t the easiest or most comfortable means of transportation, but it worked and I’m so glad I went along.
The surgeon asked me what I’d gotten up to on the weekend and raised an eyebrow when I told him I’d been camping on the Howqua.

“On crutches?” he enquired with disbelief.

“Yep, on crutches. ” I replied quite casually.

Couldn’t have done it without my mates: Cam, Brenton, Kate and Andy though.
They made sure I was always comfortable, fed, watered and stoned.
The MacKenzies would never have done that for you!

Alas it was eventually time to go back to the sprawling suburbia that is Melbourne.
The last of the sun’s rays were slowly disappearing as we left the green serpentine valleys of the Howqua River and headed back down to the lowlands.

We finally got home about 10p.m. to find out from Gino that he and Geoff C. had tried to find us on Saturday night on their road bikes, but didn’t go quite far enough down the dirt road.
They must have missed us by only a couple of kilometres, if that.
Instead they turned around and had to camp with that MacKenzie mob down river.

.

Much better tank yoe.
I think the sweat lodge in my bedroom payed off.
Fever's gone, a little bit of a snotty nose left over, if I keep on like this I will be camping tomorrow!!!

A hint of doubt has been brought to my attention.
I spoke with the specialist yesterday, he's booked me in for a C.T. scan and 3d reconstruction today.
Apparently he wants to be sure that there is no union in the acetabulum.
What's he expecting?
"The hip! United! Will never be parted!"
Last I remember, my acetabulum signed an enterprise bargaining agreement and part of that was the condition that there will be no union involved.
Anyway, jokes aside, it got me thinking.
What if there is a sign of union?
Does that mean he will not operate and I will be doomed to wander this earth on crutches for longer than anticipated?
The Unbipedal.....Condemned To Hop Till The End Of Time!
Sounds like a good title for a horror movie to me.
Wouldn't surprise me really though, why should this go to plan yeah?
No point worrying about it, that never got anyone anywhere and I bet anyone was pissed off about that!!
Boom boom!!!!!!!
Oh God! Save me from my atrocious sense of humour!!!!!


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What can I say?
I'm very disappointed at the totally inappropriate timing of the cold that's decided to assault me at the moment.
It came on overnight and I'm hoping that it will disappear just as quickly.
Two nights ago I woke with a sore throat and what appeared to be my nose doing its best to resemble Niagara Falls.
I mean, it was literally flowing like a river out of my nose, down my cheek and onto the pillow!
I had to take to stuffing a rolled up bit of tissue up one nostril to stem the flood, just so I could sleep ( read: attempt to ) without swimming in a pool of my own mucous.

Yesterday, I got progressively worse and by the time I got home from the hospital, made something garlicky to eat and poured a large vessel of orange juice I was feeling absolutely stuffed.
So from 4p.m. till about 9a.m. I spent the time lying in bed with a fever, sweating, drinking water and orange juice and getting up occasionally to go to the loo.
It was a right proper fever too, reminded me of the last surgery I had.
Unintelligible thoughts and patterns running through my head.
For some reason I thought if I could just find a thought or something to concentrate on, it would get me through.
Nope.
No such luck.
Best I could do was to try and formulate a meaningful sentence and all I got was some jumbled words like parka, context and something else, which escapes me right now.
I even tried counting sheep, no luck there either.
The sheep refused to jump over the fence.
They were too busy having their own enthralling conversations.

I think I'd managed to sweat most of it out of me last night as what's left today is a slightly snotty nose, mildly irritated throat and a bit of a headache, nothing like the jackhammer affair of last night.
It would be nice to take a hot bath right now, but alas, I can't get into a bath let alone get out of one at this point in time.
I'll have to make do with lying on the couch, watching DVD's and drinking Lem Sips ( thanks Bec )

The worst thing is, if it doesn't come right by tomorrow, there'll be no camping trip for this little black duck, as I can't run the chance of making it worse before Operation Hip To Be Square next Wednesday.

Bugger bugger bugger bugger!!!!!


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