MOOMINS M.C.

Knackered again.
But you do get that when you're learning how to walk.
I can't even imagine what a total mong I'll look like when I'm learning to run!
Found myself in desperate need of a nanna nap on Friday after a relatively big week.
I remember when nanna naps were de rigueur in my hospital days.
Every arvo between the last physio session and dinner was power nap time, but now I'm trying to avoid that sort of lethargic behaviour in order to build up stamina.


Friday's nanna nap was particularly content as I had come so tantalisingly close to finding the fish and chip holy grail.
Neale, a mate of mine from my rehab days, who like myself was taken out of motorcycling circulation by an errant motorist, introduced me to his local fish and chippery.
This was the sort of place I have been searching for all this time!
It was a typically humble suburban take away shop specialising in placing food in vats of hot oil, I think it may even have been run by Greeks, which is a bit of a throw back to older days before they sold their shops to Asians.
Their culinary offerings were most satisfactory, in fact pretty much what I was after.
The piece of shark was neither dry or soggy, but somewhere in between, just the way I like it.
You could actually see the layers in the meat as compared to some other pieces I've consumed which had the semblance of piscatorial puree, not dissimilar to fish flavoured baby food.
Wrapping the chunk of deep sea predator was a lovely batter, having the desired structural integrity.
It was not too crispy so as to shatter upon contact with my dental protuberances and send pieces of batter shrapnel into the soft and delicate inside of my mouth at great velocity, but not soggy either so it peels off the flesh like a burns victim's skin.
Even the chippies were right, soft on the inside with a little crunch on the outside.
There was a little basic side salad as part of a deal, which I chose as an option more out of curiosity.
It wasn't much really, but as it doesn't technically fall into the 'fish and chips' category I'm not rating it.
And all this for $7.50!!!!
If I had to be picky I would have to say that the serving could have been a touch bigger, but that's just me being finicky, or greedy.
Oh, and the location was a few suburbs away, so it doesn't fall into the local category for me, but for Neale it's literally just down the road.
Lucky bugger.


Al has been moved into a room with two beds.
This to me is a really good thing because at least now he has someone to annoy.
I know from experience that having a cellmate can be very beneficial.
If they're a good one then you can have someone to talk to
If they're a bad one then you have something to complain about and later down the track look back on the unfortunate experience with a sense of relief.
When I saw Al on Thursday he looked pretty knackered as he had had his vacuum dressing changed on his leg from the last surgery, and was being poked in various places by some girl from pathology who was adamant he contained too much blood, but was having considerable difficulty in extracting it.
It was really good to see him in pain, as he reckoned he could feel his arm and hand throbbing.
This suggests that there is some sort of sensation possibly returning back to the damaged limb.
Only time will tell.


NEWSFLASH!!
Glenn is back for the emerald isle! Judging by the photos his mum Barbara the boy looks to be in good shape.
Hopefully catch up with the bludger soon.
My sis will be following soon.
Yay!


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Last few days have been relatively uneventful, apart from visiting Al in hospital and a lovely dinner at Bec's on Saturday.
More physio, a bit of work ( which will be upped to 6 hours per day for 2 days per week ). organising a visit to the head shrinker and meeting with a plastic surgeon for an assessment.
Oh, and I bought a Tom Jones record of a 1969 live performance at the Flamingo in Las Vegas.
It has all the classics like Delilah and It's Not Unusual, with a deadly band backing him.
I've had some pretty bizarre dreams lately too.
Over three nights I had pretty much experienced a whole zoo's worth of animals in my dreams, spent time hooning around on some dirt bike, hooned around in some cars, saw a deceased relative, visited old home towns, and some other stuff that I can't quite remember.


The wedding of Agatha and Bones was one of the nicest ones I've ever been to.
The setting was a lovely winery in the Yarra Ranges with views of rolling vineyards and the blue haze of the mountains in the distance.
Culinary offerings were truly sensational with one of the highlights being a woodfired potato pizza, which was surprisingly unpotato like in texture and taste.
Garlic prawns, prosciutto, blue cheese and a variety of Italian style fare kept the taste buds well and truly occupied.
Good wine and bubbly kept everyone watered and I was most impressed by the long neck bottle I received with a chilled glass, when I requested a beer to cleanse the palate after quaffing the grape juice for a few hours.
The one point that was a bit much was the band.
Some sort of Hispanic guitar, bass, keyboard unit which had Bones asking me as to how one goes about firing the band halfway through the reception.
The sequencer added a rather nasty timbre to the cacophony emanating from the P.A. system.
Notable moments were: Jake's ( the best man ) speech, after which Bones' admitted that there was no way he could follow up with anything due to how hilarious and well presented it was, so he left it to Agatha to say a few words.
The seven little flower girls aged between 2 and 7 were also a constant source of entertainment and provided me with some really cool photo opportunities.
Meeting some of the relatives, especially one who was sporting a very badly fitting toupee, which for all intents and purposes could have been mistaken for a merkin.
Trying to take photos at the ceremony and key moments at the reception was quite a challenge as there were two other photographers and a myriad of other cameras and a few video cameras, and of course everyone was trying to get a decent angle and not get in the way too much.
Still managed to take some nice shots, won't bore everyone with them, so I've just posted a few samples.
Overall a very pleasant occasion and one which will always be remembered by the guests.
A very lovely gesture was the presentation of a limited run lino print to each guest / couple as a reminder and thank you.


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After spending a couple of nights at home, AL has returned to hospital in an ambulance.
His temperature went skyward due to an infection.
I believe he is having surgery today to remove the ex. fix. on his arm.
It must be hard having that 'home' carrot dangled in front of you only to promptly end up back in the Alfred.


Myself and my rehab mates all know these setbacks too well and accept that they are part and parcel of the recovery process, but it still makes it no any easier for the person involved and their family and friends.
I spoke to one of my ex cellmates Damien, and he's not going really flash either.
His arm is not knitting, his wife is stressed, their selling their house in the country to move into a smaller place in Bendigo.
I and another of my ex cellmates Mark, will be driving up there to visit him soon.
Bit if a catch up, but also to give the poor bugger some support, as he is quite isolated and that's never good for anyone.
That'll be an interesting trip eh.
Sounds like some bad Hollywood drama.

Two cripples........ brought together by traumatic events...... set out on a road trip to be reunited with their long lost fellow cripple....... a story about pain, strength and brotherly love....... Starring Johhny Depp as Zuba, Orlando Bloom as Mark and Sean Connery as Damien.

hehehe


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Good news!
Al's been discharged form the Alfred hospital.
6 weeks of not feeling the sun on his skin or the wind in his hair, but his home now.
That will no doubt speed up the recovery process.
I visited him after my rehab session yesterday and snapped some photos of him leaving.
He may not care right now, but I have a little collection going now and later on I'll email them to his son or something.


I was heading home about 5ish, but for some strange reason decided to stop of at the Shrine of Remembrance.
May have been that Anzac Day is coming up, or I just felt a strange reason to go there, who knows.
I made my way up the small hill with the usual teeth gritting and grimacing and thought of how the Anzacs would have been doing a similar thing, with the exception of course that they had machine gun and artillery fire raining down on them like a Sydney thunder storm.
That was the first hill I have climbed on my own two feet since the weekend before my smash.
The sight at the top was pretty.
The Melbourne CBD at the end of the avenue, all bathed in a beautiful sunset.
I took the opportunity to take some snaps of various features and events like the lowering of the flag to the last post and a couple of schoolgirls interviewing an older soldier for a project on the Anzacs.
There is definitely something quietening, peaceful and reflective about that place.






This bloody walking business is a bit much eh!
My physio reckons I should take painkillers and get a walking stick, but I'll be fucked I'm going to start taking the damned things after having been off them for 6 months!
As for walking sticks, pffft. You can jam your walking stick right up the proverbial.
Due to having a crutch to lean on, my back suffered a lot so rather then go back to leaning on a stick, I d rather just deal with the pain in my legs instead adding back pain to the equation as well.
I get a bit of that anyway, so there's no point making it worse.
I am feeling more and more drained lately, but that's only because I'm a stubborn little fucker and I will go out and push myself as far being active goes.
I spent too many days lying around in a hospital doing sweet fanny adams to be spending my days as a couch potato.
Granted some days I really don't have much of a choice, but that's beside the point.
Still not getting much sleep though, if anything I'm getting less.
After doing the human shish kebab all night I'll wake up at some ungodly hour and know that I have reached my quota of rest.
At that point all I can do is just lie there and wait for the sparrows to start farting.
And the flamin' sky rats with their coo cooo!
This can be anything from a half hour to two hours.
This is not a good time for me as I'm physically exhausted from trying to sleep ( who could have thought that was possible ), but the mind starts doing its acrobatics and doesn't let up until I have to get up.
We'll see how we go on that front.
In the mean time, I'll just keep on truckin'.


Work's going ok, but times like this week I'm glad I'm only there two 1/2 days.
The workshop controller is on paternity and annual leave, one of the 3 service advisors left last week, another one is on holidays and the whole show is bit of a stress factory.
One of the fill in advisors was telling me that yesterday it was so full on that he was still there at 7pm and shaking like a dog shitting tacks.
That can't be good for anyone.
I'm getting more and more familiar with the workings of the place, but physically it's still quite taxing.
I have a meeting with the return to work people from rehab and my department on Tuesday, I should be able to address some of the issues then.


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Bit achy from Saturday night karting, then again that was expected and inevitable.
And a good night it was too!!!
Our 14 strong group ( 5 of which were my riding buddies from pre big bang ) rocked up to the kart track and had an absolute ball.
So much so, that Bones' is making noises about buying a go kart himself.
As with any group that large, there were people who had never driven one of these insanely fun machines.
Inherently, there were the many and varied driving styles, from the Mr Smooths right through to the Mr Bulldozers and everything in between.
Anyone who has ever piloted one of these little rental 2 stroke jiggers will be familiar with the bruising and battering that comes as a result of bashing around a kart track at up to 80km/h ( a private cart will do 120-140km/h ) for x number of laps and Saturday was no different.
I came off relatively ok, although my left hip bone graft donor site was a little bruised, as well as the middle of my back from the top of the seat.
Oh, and got a little bruising around my inner right thigh as the steering column brace was right at the spot where one of the screws in my femur resides.
My right bicep, which was paralysed 13 months ago, has been getting more and more strength into it, but I'm really feeling it after Saturday.
Overall, I would say that this is by far the best form of physiotherapy that I've come across.
I wasn't sure as to how I would fare physically, as I've been karting before and was well aware of how physically intense it is.


There were four races: two qualifying, then one for the fastest group of seven and another for the slowest group of seven.
I won the the faster group race, although there's word that I made a passing maneuever on Bones under a yellow light.
I dare say, I can't remember him slowing down for any supposed yellow either so I don't feel so bad.
Now he wants a rematch so he can get his own pissy little prize consisting of a used spark plug on a little pedestal!
Reckons he would have tried harder if he knew there were trophies involved.
Either way, I still managed to pull off the fastest lap time! :P
The last race was most enjoyable as the red mist had set well and truly in by that point and even though we weren't racing for sheep stations, there was definitely some fierce competition going on.
Bone's was leading and I managed to thread my way through the melee at the second corner and eventually position myself right on his rear bumper.
We spent about half the race like that with Bone's leading and myself doing the harassing from behind.
Try as I might I could not find a way past him, but in the end I nailed him on a corner.


Moral of the story: don't send a cripple out to do a man's job ;)

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS MATERIAL WHICH MAY OFFEND SOME READERS.
So tread carefully.


Another first!!!
Yesterday was the first time I'd gone out of the house ( not including going to the shop 4 doors down ) with walking aides.
They had to be told.

"You're holding me back! We just don't seem to get along anymore. I appreciate all the support you've given me over the last year, but the spark in our relationship has faded. My legs have grown together and we've grown apart and I don't think we'll ever get back together again. "

They took it rather well I thought, although when I got home my main crutch was in the same position as I'd left it, moping.


The last two weeks have been quite strenuous physically and mentally and Thursday was a good example of the kind of days that have passed.
Off to work for an 8:30 start, 12:30 straight from there across town to Cabrini hospital for a review with my pelvis specialist, 2:30 straight from there to the Alfred to visit Al and then the 8pm tram to the place that sells bad beer for a couple of relaxing pints to soothe the day's aches and pains, and eventually home.

Friday it all came to a grinding halt.
About 5 ish I had to have a lie down just from being totally knackered.
Hoping to get a little snooze for even half an hour, all I could do was lie there and mentally locate and count all the areas of pain spread generously around my body.
Lying there, listening to Hurt by Nine Inch Nails, I thought of the beginning of all this and how I was doing pretty much the same thing, except that the pain was a hell of a lot more intense.
Oh, and the bed is a lot softer than bitumen.

Speaking of NIN, I found this little bit of gold on the interweb the other day. Tragic, but funny.

After my unsuccessful siesta I was marginally less sore and that's when I decided to throw caution to the wind and go to the place of bad beer sales and see if I could make it there unaided.
I was also feeling the need to talk to a couple of people I knew would be there.
Hey it's cheaper than therapy and it works!
After catching the tram I made the half mile trek, with a lot of teeth gritting and conscious planning of foot placement.
Walking at a much slower pace than other pedestrians and with an unsteady gait matched with agonisingly contorted face, I tried my hardest to not look like some drug fucked alcoholic wandering the streets in the dark.
I suppose being a Friday evening in Melbourne, I didn't exactly look out of place, maybe more like an early starter.
Friday the 13th and a couple days short of 13 months since I lost the freedom.
13 might be my new lucky number......


On the pelvis front, the good surgeon was extremely happy with the progress and was recommending swimming and bicycling!
On informing him that I have been officially banned by the physios and rehab doctor from even entertaining the thought, due to the possibility of my coming a gutser and breaking something that's now healed, he burst into a healthy guffaw and shook his head.
In the scheme of things I have to adhere to the directives coming form my rehab doctor.
No more review with this one until November.


On the Al front, he was in fine spirits on Thursday.
One of the plastics surgeons was there and mentioned that the following day he would be meeting with the trauma, plastics and orthopaedic teams to discuss the next step in sorting out a plan for Al's arm.
The short of it is that if the skin graft donor site looks fine this weekend and the arms looking ok, he might be able to go home soon.
One point of contention is the external fixation on his arm and a means of supporting that arm if he were to go home.
Apart from that, he really did look well.
The full body rash from a reaction to one of the antibiotics has pretty much cleared up and that in turn has turned his mental state around to the point that he was cracking jokes, making the nurses and doctor laugh and generally feeling a lot more positive.


Tonight it's Bones' bucks night and there will be go karts involved.
Woohooooo!!!!
Time to get sore again.

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Let's see, since the last post, Al has undergone surgery and the good doctors decided against amputation due to the general tissue being in fairly good condition, despite the nerves being disconnected.
Some skin grafts to close up the wounds and all's sweet for now.
His arm is still fruited from the elbow down, but for now it's intact.
We'll see how it pans out over time.


Easter consisted of catching a few Melbourne International Comedy Festival shows, courtesy of Bec and my housemate Gemma, some Sunday lunch with Mum, Alicja, Bec and a short, but quality catch up with Wolfy and Kim on Monday.
Quiet, but quality is what I say......
Apart from the pervy rabbit.


On the the other hand, I have been indulging in a little 'getting back to my roots' style of therapy.
Today I replaced the serpentine belt tensioner assembly on Brenton"s VN Commodore.
It was a necessary thing as after replacing the water pump, the tensioner decided to give up the ghost and separate into three pieces in an outward direction, away from the the rest of the engine.
This was not an easy task as the good generals at General Motors had chosen to make this particular procedure rather bothersome, if not nigh on impossible.
Some unconventional techniques and tools were employed to achieve the nearly impossible, such as multi grips, club hammers and cold chisels.
After much swearing, cursing, grunting and some moral support from Princess Strawberry I finally managed to install the replacement part.
T'was no easy task and I could have jumped for joy when the tensioner decided to relieve its incumbency, had I been able to actually jump.
I felt it was a good exercise in physiotherapy as well as exercising the grey matter in problem solving style of activities.

Tim Allen would have been proud.


Work's going ok, so far.
I do find myself trying to perform functions beyond my capabilities as they are the things I did before, however, the actual capability is just not there.
So I have to check myself and face reality and in doing so, palm off some of these tasks to other co-workers.
No big problem really, just has the effect of frustrating the FUCK out of me!
All in good time I guess.


Physically, things are getting a little better.
My broken arse is still broken, but it is getting better.
The lower right leg, is about the same, and the hip is slowly becoming stronger.
I am feeling more and more of of the metal plate in my forearm though, which is strange considering it's been there for over a year and hasn't been an issue before.
Not to be left out, the knee department is also playing up, especially the left one, which sounds like a popcorn machine.
And of course, the shin bone is connected to the knee bone abd the right one is quite content to give me the irrates when I am trying to walk,
Sleep is still intermittent due to the various aches and pains in my collar bone and pelvis but I can manage a short stint in the middle of the night to actually get a bit of rest.
Enough to keep ticking over from day to day.

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Happy Easter to all.

Good Friday passed without incident for me, which was a nice change from a week ago.
The only injuries I incurred were a couple of blisters on my right index and middle fingers.
The plan on Friday was that Brenton would come around with his clarinet and we would have a bass / clarinet jam session.
I was quite looking forward to that and even got my good bass out, thinking it would be a good idea to warm up a bit and get used to the old girl again.
My choosing Iron Maiden's 'Powerslave' to warm up to turned out to be the wrong decision.
Thinking that playing through the album should be a breeze I was reminded of how physical a player Steve Harris is.
At the end of the first side I was sporting two fluid filled bubbles on the end of my distal phalanges.
That'll learn me gooooood........

Having a few mates over for some drinks that night, I was rather pleased that my alter ego "Captain Self Destructo" had decided to take leave for a while.
I for one would be rather chuffed if he didn't come back for a while.
Maybe there's some sort of store where you can trade your alter ego for another one?
I could try "Sensibility Man" or "Metal Wise Arse Boy"?


Anyways, hope the Easter Bunny has been kind to you all, unlike my chickens.
I caught him this morning attempting to insert foil covered chocolate eggs into the bloodthirsty hens.
Their displeasure manifested itself in an assault on the benevolent, yet perverted rabbit during which the little sicko was beaten to within an inch of his cotton tailed life.


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Feeling better, thank you.
After my little self destructive bout on Friday I tried to keep myself nice this week, so far so good.
Making full use of my C.R.A.F.T. Club membership ( can't remember a fucking thing ), I found that upon rising last Saturday I couldn't even find my crutch!
Thankfully Bec came to the rescue on that one.


Having received a right royal going over in physio on Monday, then going to work for the first time on Tuesday and helping Brenton replace the water pump on his car, I found I could hardly walk on Wednesday.
I don't think the fall on Friday night helped either as I can still feel that in the knee today.
I literally looked like a real, genuine defective unit as I struggled to get out of bed, into the taxi and then onto the exercise bike in physio.
After about 3-4 minutes on the bike, the legs finally started to work.


I popped in to see Al in the Alfred in the afternoon and didn't leave until about 7:30.
His wife and daughter were there when Al was carted off to x-ray.
The nurse said he'd be about half an hour.
I knew it'd at least be about triple that from experience, so his daughter and I popped down the pub for a couple.
The orderly, who came for Al, looked a bit suspect.
The look on his face appeared to scream "He'll be right back. After we remove a kidney or two for spare parts. A little venture I have on the side with one of the student doctors. After all, how do you expect me to survive on this orderly's wage?!"
Sure enough, an hour and a half later he was back.
With all internal organs intact and in place, thankfully.
We returned to the bed and were joined by his son, so I took a photo of the family.
Who knows, they may or may not want a copy later in time.

Al seemed very agitated and frustrated about the whole ordeal, the not knowing of when the amputation will take place, the overworked nursing staff not being there when he needs them, the doctors talking amongst themselves and not turning up when they said they would, what he will do for a crust when he recovers or whether to retire, the crap food, etc.
He did however appear interested in how David is going after his amputation and was keen to find out more about the experience, which I figure is a good thing as he's obviously come to terms with losing that dodgy arm.
Speaking of which, I believe the amputation is not far off, so let's hope he comes out of that quickly and is able to get the hell out of that hospital.
I only spent two weeks in there and it did my head in, he's been there since the 10th of March!
It was good to see him up and walking even if doing a half lap of the ward wore him out, it's a good sign.
After all that, all I could do was go home, roll a wee cuban and put on Lynyrd Synyrd's final album 'Street Survivors' on the record player and plop down in an armchair.
The irony of choosing that particular album didn't occur to me until I wrote that last sentence.
Jeez I'm a bloody weirdo sometimes.
Ok, maybe most of the time.


The return to work isn't going too badly.
The computer system operation came back rather quicker than I thought.
Some things have changed for the better, some haven't changed at all.
The new manager seems alright and looks like he'll be making some good changes to the way the place operates.
The physical side of things was a lot harder than I anticipated, mainly due to the amount of times I had to get up and sit down.
That played havoc with my knees.
It will take some time to adjust to the fact that I can't run around like a blue arsed fly the way I used to.
All my actions now require some sort of planning prior to execution in order make sure I do it in the least painful way and that I pace myself.
Hi ho, Hi ho, it's off to work we go!!!!


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Bec got a new job and Friday night was as good a night as any to help her celebrate.
After successfully pickling my internal organs in wine, beer and scotch that night, I'd spent the rest of the weekend getting over my little indiscretion, nursing my swollen left knee, pining for the lost skin off my right elbow, cleaning up the sick off the carpet and generally feeling rather poorly and sorry for myself.
I can't remember actually coming a cropper, but according to Gino it happened more than once.
That would explain all the bruising and debarking of appendages.
I guess I can't blame anyone else.
Oh wait, yeah I can offload some of the blame on Gino for suggesting that drinking scotch would be a really good idea.
Being afflicted with alcoholic rubber arm doesn't help though.
Thankfully after rising from the land of the undead at about 4:30 pm on Saturday I was fortunate enough to have Bec, Princess Strawberry and Gino's missus Mel to help me come right.
If I was up for it I would raise a glass and toast to a new week.
Between physio and hydrotherapy, returning to work, attending the Alfred Hospital survey about trauma injuries, visiting Al in hospital and who knows what else, I should have a rather busy week.


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