MOOMINS M.C.

The may not be any posting fer a little while as my computer is off to get it's little wireless thingy replaced.
It hasn't been working for a while and I've been a slack bastard in getting it fixed, perhaps due to the the warranty people I have to deal with.
So if you don't see any posts, it's not that I've expired, it's just some hardware maintenance.


A couple of updates for now:
I will be having a driving test soon to see if I can cope with driving a car. ( duh )
It means I will be legally covered if I do drive an automobile, in the case of something going pear shaped.


I had a quick chat with the occupational therapist about going back to work on a part time basis.
Thought that might enter into the scheme of things soon.
I even had a dream about it last night, so I must've known it was coming.


The walking attempts and exercises are still continuing as usual.
I can definitely notice an improvement in mobility, strength and confidence, although the pain factor doesn't feel like it's subsiding much.
Still mainly in the arse and the right leg, as well the typical night pains when I'm trying to sleep on various affected areas of my body.
In other words, still doing the human kebab in bed.


On a very brutal and sad note, one of my old cellmates from rehab was assaulted a week and a half ago.
As he was coming back from a Saturday night walk, three men ( and I use the term extremely loosely ) in the 30's jumped him from behind ( 3 onto 1 is bad enough, but they had to do it form behind as well ), got him on the ground and beat him with his crutch.
They went through his pockets looking for anything of value and only stopped when his neighbour came out after hearing the screams of agony as they beat his injured leg.
The ever helpful police refused to go looking for them and gave a response of "Yeah, it happens sometimes on a Saturday night."
Read that as "Shit happens."
Hearing that kind of thing doesn't exactly fill me with confidence in Victoria's finest.
I am all for bringing back vigilante groups, which can track these knuckle draggers down and escort them to the nearest amateur psychiatric surgeon to have their frontal lobes removed ( not like they're using them anyway ).


All quiet on the chicken front.
They've been behaving themselves of late, apart from complaining constantly about the lack of food ( they get more than their fair share in quantity and quality ), the working conditions, lack of dental cover, etc


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Over the weekend I've finally managed something that has eluded me for the last 11 months.
I "walked" without crutches.
It wasn't very far, only a few metres and wasn't exactly walking, more like stumbling or laboured horizontal resistance.
I'm sure if someone saw me do it they would have assumed that I have a serious drinking problem, in the sense that I can't hold my grog.
I've seen two legged dogs that look more co-ordinated than my crack at controlled falling!
I don't care though, it just means that I have to practice a bit more, try not to favour the right leg and actually put all my weight through it, as well as trying to remain upright and straight.
AARRRGHHHHH! Too many things to think about at the same time, everyone knows men are shite at multi tasking.
There has to be an easier way.
Who knows, by the time I hit the 12 month point in March I may be able to present something I can pass off as perambulation.


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Good news!!!
I visited the girl in hospital yesterday and she is not as badly smashed up as I thought.
Turns out she's only got a fractured femur in one leg and the other leg has a few more fractures requiring some metalwork.
The compartment syndrome wound was closed without requiring skin grafts, which is fantastic.
When I was told that she couldn't feel her legs, I was very apprehensive about seeing her.
Not even someone like myself can relate to what that must be like to endure.
I did visit David in intensive care after his smash and wasn't too sure how I was going to deal with trying to relate to someone who has lost an arm, but I guess it was a bit easier in the sense that I had never known him with two arms.
This girl however was someone I had know prior to the smash and always seen on her feet around the shop.
Thankfully the only bit she can't feel is a patch on one of her thighs, probably from the initial trauma or the subsequent surgery.
It was good to get the visit out of the way as it had been screwing with my head the length of the week.
As she'll be going to Epworth rehab on Monday I filled her in on what to expect on that ward and also in the coming months.
Little trade secrets like ordering potato wedges with cream for the nurses to earn brownie points were divulged along with other tips and hints on how to try to get through that period as painlessly as possible.


The whole week has had me going through a bit of soul searching, mainly in reference to my own recovery and what it means to me in the big scheme of things.
Coming up to a year having passed since the start of my healing road and I'm trying to think of how to mark the anniversary, or whether to even mark it at all.
After all, it's just another date on the calendar.
Should I have a get together with my mates to celebrate being able to be with them?
Should I just let the day pass like any other and maybe just have a quiet moment of reflection?
I'm sure the answers to these questions will come to me in good time, so I'm not going to worry about it for now because as everyone knows, worrying doesn't achieve anything at all.




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Bizarre how lives are connected.
As we were being told by the neighbour at 4:30 on Sunday morning that the police she had rung could not attend due to a car smash, one of the girls from the shop 4 houses away was being cut out of that very car and transported to the trauma centre at Royal Melbourne Hospital.
Sunday was my 11 month milestone since the smash with the truck and whilst I was enjoying my new found mobility and generally having a good time, she was just starting her healing road.
I only found out about her today when the shop owner told me.
It sounds as if she has sustained a head injury, as well as loss of sensation and compartment syndrome, which at one point was heading towards a leg amputation.
I believe she has had a fasciotomy, much like mine, performed on that leg and hopefully will be able to avoid the amputation.
I'm hoping to see her tomorrow.
It won't be the first time I'll be visiting someone in trauma / intensive care ward and I think the time I visited David, who went on to become a good friend, has gone a long way to prepare me for this sort of thing.
It's really hard to know what to say to someone in that situation, even having experienced similar trauma myself, but if it helps that person in only a small way to begin to cope with the sudden change to their life / state of being and the completely foreign path they are forced to tread, then it can only be a good a thing.


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It's taken me this long to get over the Black & White party and actually get my poo sorted enough to post something that's make sense to anyone who's not a gibbering mess.
As anyone knows, gibbering messes can actually communicate using body language and a variety of grunts and whoops that can only be comprehended by beings in a similar state,
I imagine prehistoric cavemen conveyed their thoughts in similar fashion.
In short, there was no point posting until such time as I could put vowels and consonants together in a manner which constructed actual words in the English language.


Saturday arvo was spent cleaning up one of the housemate's ( notable by his absence for the duration of the party ) Friday night mess in order to prepare for the B&W party that night.
Afterwards Gemma's mate Simon turned up in his trusty Subaru wagon, which spewed forth a wonderful array of lighting equipment, power leads, scaffolding, fog machines, etc.
All this set up in 36 degree heat was not a hell of a lot of fun and by the time it was done, Gemma, her sister and I felt the afternoons exertions warranted some downtime in order to recuperate enough for the night's festivities.

Daylight was fading fast as the soon to be gibbering messes started turning up.
The barbecue produced burnt sausage offerings to the party gods.
The smoke machine produced smoke, which in turn produced many enquiries from guests as to which part of the house was alight.
I spent a fair amount if time explaining to people that there was no emergency, the fire plan did not need to be implemented as it was just the fog machine doing its thing.


The stereo played music until the wee hours of the morning when one of the neighbours arrived to inform us that the police had been contacted, but couldn't attend due to some accident and she would like us to turn off the music all together.
I could not see the sense in turning off the audio entertainment as there were still people partying, so I offered to turn it down dramatically.
She demanded we turn it off, and I insisted that we refuse to, but will reduce the volume level.
She left, we partied on.
Problem solved as far as I was concerned.
I really don't know what her problem was, the chickens offered absolutely no protest and looked quite ok when they ventured out of their coop in the morning.


As with any other soirée at Casa del Pollo Polvoriento ( House of the Dusty Chicken to the Hispanically challenged ) the party ended up on the 'one tree hillock formerly known as two tree hillock'.
This is a strange mound in the backyard, which like the many mounds found in Europe has bewildered scholars and lay folk as to its origins and purpose.
Like those ancient protuberances, the hillock draws people to itself by some mysterious attraction that to this day remains unexplained.
The few gibbering messes left at the end of the festivities clung to this high ground and watched the twilight turn to sunrise over the chicken coop.
I do remember trying to convince people that opening a bottle of untried red wine was a good idea and eventually Simon the Brave and Mimo ( I think that was his name ) the Foetally Shaped but Venturesome joined me in the slow and gradual emptying of the rather cheeky little merlot.
I really don't know if it was any good as my palate was somewhat polluted by that stage, but we did finish the bottle.
One of my mate's ( who shall remain nameless to protect his identity) claimed it was a little too cheeky and refused to continue with the emptying of his vessel, but I don't trust his judgment as his palate is permanently polluted by grape products ( and I use the term very loosely ) emenating from le château de carton.



And thus ended the B&W party at Clarence Street.
The cleanup is still going on, although at least all the empties are now residing in 3 large bins and not all around the house and yard. ( it was 38 degrees on Sunday after all )
I dare say Friends of the Earth would probably have kittens if they saw the backyard on Sunday morning.
I nearly rang up physio on Monday morning to say I won't be in, but due to the orthotist being booked for 9 a.m. I felt it would be rather rude.
Was a good thing I went in the end as I was able to float face down in the pool for a while until the need for oxygen disrupted my relaxed and sensory deprived state.
I tried sitting at the bottom for a while, but the lungs kept screaming out for more air.
In the end I floated around on my back, not unlike a Bondi cigar really except less smelly.


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Let's see, what's been happening since last post.
Got a new pain in my right ankle, which has slowed me down somewhat.
It started as a pain that would come in a 5-6 second wave and then do it again in a minute or two.
Completely random timing and no particular reason, but since the weekend it has settled in to the point that it makes itself felt every time I put weight through that leg.
The physios have booked an orthotist for Monday, we'll see what he has to say.
For some reason the physios have been giving me a right royal going over this week and every time I come back I've been feeling totally knackered, to the point that I've resorted to nanna naps when I get home.


Went to trivia night at the East Brunswick hotel with Bec, Gino and ran into our neighbour John.
With a little help from Scottish Dave, who I have know from 'the place that sells bad beer' and who also runs trivia nights there, we came out the winners by 1 point!
That means a slab of beer for us and yet another conquest in the northern suburbs trivia campaign.


I've been editing some photos for The Angels.
They requested a CD with some shots, so we'll see if they end up using any of them.


Clarence St has been making slow, but decisive plans for the B&W party on Saturday.
All the friends of our new housemate Gemma are coming in white and all of my mates in black.
She managed to rope in an AV tech mate of hers to light up the place like Baghdad at the start of Operation Shock and Awe.
Over the next couple of days there'll be some more tidying up and then final preparations on Saturday including 100 helium balloons, turning one of the rooms white and the other black, barbecue supplies as well as all sorts of beverages and stuff......
Security shouldn't be a problem.
If anyone plays up we'll just shove a piece of barbecued meat down their pants and release the Hens of Hell upon them.
I did think of just tying the hens to the front gate posts as bouncers.
Even contemplated making little lanyards with identification tags displaying their number and all.


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My oh my.
There I was bumming around the house feeling rather like a bar sponge that's been used to clean the ashtrays, after soaking up all the spilt alcoholic beverages throughout the course of the night.
I'd just managed to detox enough to start making coherent and intelligible attempts at communication, when Princess Strawberry rang and wanted to know if I was up for a bit of foreplay.
It took a little while for my poor brain to work out what the hell she was on about, as it was devoting most of its resources on keeping my battered and abused body just ticking over.
Apparently Fourplay, the band, were to play at the East Brunswick Hotel that very night.
So after laboriously transforming myself into some something that would pass off as socially presentable and prevent the police from locking me up for vagrancy, I made my way to the pub for some much needed hair of the dog.
Fourplay were absolutely awesome!
A bunch of really consummate string players, who really knew how to have a good time with music.
Photographically, it was one of the hardest gigs I've shot as not only were the lights fairly dark, but the bloody musos kept moving around and stuff, like some kind of rockers.
Not what the average person would expect form a string quartet.



Sunday was to be another music filled day as the Cherry Bar was having a fundraiser for a statue of Bon Scott to be erected in Fremantle, the resting place of one of Australia's rock icons.
On the bill were The Spazzys ( no link as I really don't think much of them, if you want to know more then google them yourself :p ), The Devilrock Four and The Angels.
I made my way down to the Cherry Bar via Federation Square, more out of curiosity than anything else.
Up on the stage there was a Bollywood performance, or some such thing.
It was interesting for a few minutes and gave me a chance to reel off some snaps.


I eventually made my way to the venue and was pleasantly surprised to find out that The Spazzys were replaced by another band, due to one of their members having fractured an arm.
They were replaced by Black Guns, who like The Devilrock Four had an old school rock style, very much appropriate for the occasion and the headliners they were supporting.
Both of these bands were like a soundtrack to a time warp going back 20 or 30 years.
Lots of big hair, cock rock guitar, face and pose pulling, climbing of PA gear, etc.
I'm sure you get the picture.
I did however notice a distinct lack of flannies and denim jackets in the audience, although there were a few wife beater blue Bonds singlets and the odd mullet present.

Just for laughs :)

surfing dogs
floating dog
issues dog
narcoleptic dog


Joke form my sister's man Glenn ( a psych. nurse in Ireland ):

Psychotics build castles in the sky,
Neurotics worry about them falling
And psychiatrists live in them.


A jew, a muslim and a catholic were sitting in a pool.
(That's not a joke, that's a hydro therapy session at rehab.)
And the crazy thing is we didn't kill each other!



Good news!!!
Went to see my orthopaedic surgeon on Thursday, x-rays in tow, to see what he had to say about my status, condition, whatever you want to call it.
Walked into his rooms and announced my arrival for the 5:00 to the receptionist.


"Hi, I'm Chris. I've got an appointment at 5."

"Chris who?" ( I hadn't actually met her face to face before )

Then after realising with whom she was speaking came the:

"Oh , so YOU'RE Chris!"


This was accompanied by a strange look that somehow combined awe, respect, pity and even something resembling the kind of expression usually reserved for those times when one has a visual encounter with an entity which should be eternally resting and not prancing about with a sheet over their head going "wooo wooooooh".
The lady knew me of course, but in the way you know someone through their medical files, booking theatre sessions for them, scheduling appointments, etc.

So off I crutched to see the surgeon, who had done such a fantastic job on me those 11 or so months ago.
I can only imagine what went through his head when I was wheeled into the trauma centre.


"Another bloody motorcyclist!"
"Oh crap, better ring my wife and have her cancel the dinner reservations."
"Better boil the kettle, we're going to be here for a while."
"Ching ching! This should cover the final payment on the Aston Martin."


I sat down and went through the pleasantries as I hadn't seen him since about September or something.


"So how's trix?"

"I should've known better than to go on holiday, it's absolutely flat out."

"Well, if anyone needs a break it'd be you."

Boom Boom!!!!!


After inspecting the x-rays the doc appeared rather happy with what they were indicating.
I would go as far as to use the word surprised!
Even the right leg, which to me appeared the least healed of the lot, was looking well according to him.
He took me through a time line where injury = time to heal.
It went something like: 1 lower leg injury = 3 months, 2 lower leg injuries = 6 months, fractured pelvis add 6 months, open wounds add 6 months, etc.
By that chart I should expect to have fully recovered sometime in the next decade.
He was adamant that I was in far better shape than I had any real right to be and that I should spend the next 6 months leaping around like a paranoid mountain goat on speed and really get some strength into my busted up legs.
We scheduled an appointment for July so we can discuss the removal of most of the metal in my body as well as having the plastics guys do their thing on my relocated calf muscle.
So for now I have to put up with the silly lump of meat doing it's own useless thing on the side of my leg.

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Finally started to put some serious weight through my right leg today.
Over ten months of neglect have certainly and very obviously become apparent in the form of wobbles, shakes and lack of control.
I was trying to stand on that one leg and found that without hanging onto something it was nigh on impossible.
When I was asked to perform various movements with the other leg at the same time it all became very clear that I have a long way to go before I can start thinking about walking, running, bushwalking, etc.
I was also getting some new pains, which were obviously expected.
It was not until later in the day when I was catching up with a fellow patient ( who spent most of his time in hospital trying to think of ways of building the Colditz glider ) and having a look at that day's x-rays that the cause was revealed.
It appears that my right femur and tibia haven't fully united as yet.
There are still areas of light bone density and even some visible cracks.
I suspect the cause is the lack of exercise and loading on that right leg over the last 10 and a half months.
I've been told that the more a fractured bone is loaded up, the stronger it becomes.
This is something I can discuss with the surgeon on Thursday and hopefully get a better idea of what the hell is going on.
I have a feeling the internal body piercings will be there for quite sometime longer than I'd hoped for.
Some of the pain corresponds directly with the fracture sites and is most evident when I take the load off the right leg.
The rest of it, well it's in the knee, the hip, and a few other places, generally all over the shop.

So it's off to the plastic surgeon on Wednesday to discuss the replacement of my muscle graft back to it's traditional place of residence, ie on the calf and not on the side of the leg near the knee, and off to the orthopeadic surgeon on Thursday.
Fun and games with medical practitioners.


I had another motorcycling dream the other night.
A little different than the ones I normally have, where I tend to enjoy myself and scoot about with wild abandon.
This one was more like riding a bike through the motorcycling equivalent of a military obstacle course!
There were cars pulling out from side roads to avoid, sand and rock deposits mid corner, wet roads, etc.
All these things I'd experienced in my years of riding and some even caused me a spill or two, although nothing as grave as the big bang.
It just wasn't fun.
Even though I'd managed to overcome all these challenges, it still left me feeling a bit vulnerable and nervy in the morning.
Not what I would call enjoyable.


Over the last week or so I've had all sorts of thoughts running around my brain, not so much doing laps but more randomly appearing, running around like headless chickens and disappearing again.
Thoughts on when I'll be going back to work, how will I cope , maybe trying to change careers from the automotive to the arts field, trying to progress and evolve my photography, getting back into playing music, buying a car ( now that I don't have a bike ), trying to avoid thinking about riding a bike and other questions and problems that escape me right now.
It might be lack of sleep or something, whatever it is I hope it gets it's shit in a pile and sorts itself out.


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Started trying to walk with one crutch today.
It wasn't quite as antelope like as the first time I tried to stand up, but one the less it wasn't exactly what one would describe as elegant or graceful.
A new pain associated with my foray into ambulatory attempts has reared its ugly head in my right knee, but I guess that's expected when it's been out of action for so long.
That's going to take some getting used to.
This pain business is a strange thing.
One would assume that given time ( of which I've had plenty ) it would gradually dissipate and leave me alone, not just redistribute itself and manifest in other areas of the body.
As soon as the sharp pain in the groin went away, the one in the knee started up!


I know I finished the B.D.O. bloggy thingy, but I just wanted to add one more thing.
Why is it that 45,000 people can all wander around in completely random directions and at varying speeds yet somehow they manage to avoid colliding with each other?
Even when they're squeezed into confined areas and unable to move they don't start belting each other, shaking fists and gobbing off obscene vitriol at each other.
Yet when you put the same people in cars, give them designated travel pathways, light controlled intersections to moderate directional flow, they somehow they turn into brain dead, impatient psychopaths, who can't help but collide with each other or even worse, stationary objects!
Go figure........


Went to see a couple of mate's from Tassie play the Ding Dong lounge on Wednesday.
They're in band called The Great Apes and if you're into psychedelic pop / rock then you should go and see them presenting their big red bloated arses, I mean unique brand of imaginative and well presented ( whoops, there I go again ) musical fare at a venue near you.
I was quite pleasantly surprised by the variety, dynamics and musicianship of this shrewdness of apes ( check it out, that's the actual collective noun for apes! who would've thunk it?)
It was good to catch up with Will and Duds and finally sample their harmonious wares.
There were 2 guitars, bass, drums, keyboard, electronic effects and much instrument swapping going on.
Made me wish I'd brought some mushrooms with me.

Big Day Out continued:

Following Little Birdy we made our way over to catch Snowman, once again via the beer tent.
Matt and Trent had not heard let alone seen Snowman before and were rather pleasantly surprised by the whole spectacle that is their live show.
As usual, their set was a seamless live act with all the professionalism normally expected from much bigger and more experienced bands.
It was great to see them on the bill for B.D.O. and I hope this fine bunch of musos just keep getting bigger and bigger.



At this point the boys decided to go and see The Streets while I thought I'd go and and get a spot at one of the main stages and have a rest in time to see Muse.
How wrong was I?
Seemed there was already a sizable crowd of people trying to get in through the sheep run.
As both main stages were packed the security blokes weren't letting anymore punters in.
So we waited and waited and waited.
Eventually the green lights came on and the crowd surged forward and stopped, then went backwards.
I spent the next hour or so in the middle of this very loving crowd until I was within about 3 or 4 people from the sheep run.
That's when the red lights came back on again.
AAARRRGGGHHH!!! So close yet so far.
At this point we were squeezed in tighter than a bogan wearing jeans 4 sizes too small.
Knowing that Muse were going to start playing soonish I figured there was nothing more for it than to try and get the hell out of there.
I couldn't go backwards, so eventually managed to get the attention of security and they managed to get me through the sheep run, only to escort me out of the exit.
I was a little pissed off, but turned out that I was better off outside of the main stage as there was actually some room to swing crutches and the like.
Still got to see Muse and really enjoyed it.

That was when Michelle, who I'd been playing phone and text tag all day, just happened to be walking past.
So we watched Muse and eventually she and her friend went their merry little way.



Met up with the boys again, which is quite something in a crowd of 45,000 people with the phone messages running an hour or two behind.
Tool took to the stage and put on a wickedly awesome show, but not before Maynard congratulated one of the Venus sisters on taking out the Australian tennis open.
Just what does a massive crowd which really doesn't give a rat's arse about some stupid american winning some stupid tournament sound like?
I know, but you'll have to use your imagination.
They sounded a bit like the crowd at the Scribe set which was told that some useless teeny bopper band called my chemical romance or something like that, was about to play on the stage next door.
Only much much louder.
During the Tool set I had found yet another use for my crutches.
Aside from being a substitute for those really big inflatable hands, a handy if oversized clapping aid, they also doubled up as stilts.
Stilts? I hear you say.
Yes, with the help of the boys I managed to turn the things upside down and gain an extra foot or so in height.
I'm a fucking genius!!!
I could have been a very sore genius, but lady luck was definitely smiling down that night.


After making a final visit to the beer tent we managed to catch a bit of Violent Femmes before seeing the 'hand of god' sculpture in full flight.
They lit this thing up for the end of the last few headlining sets and we managed to get front row seats for the final ignition.



We finished off the night with The Crystal Method, who put on a sensational night ending set with the best light show I've ever seen.
I mean how many times have you seen a light solo?
Guitar solo yes, bass yes, even bag pipes, but light solo?
When the lighting bloke was finished the crowd went absolutely berserk.
And on that high note, we wandered off to catch a tram to the nearest watering hole.
That's when we saw some dickhead jump out in front of a moving taxi.
He reckons he was trying to hail it, but I've never heard of anyone successfully getting a cab in that particular fashion.





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