MOOMINS M.C.

Must be the season for surgery.
A lot of my mates are going back on to the chopping board at the moment.
Eid from rehab was to go the hack on Monday, but that was delayed for two weeks.
David is going under the knife on Friday to have his stump worked on.
Al is looking at having his right arm amputated in the near future.
He's really struggling with that one, reckons he would have been better off if the medicos had just chopped the damned thing off when he was in an induced coma.
It's giving him no end of grief as not only is it completely unusable, it is also causing him a lot of pain, despite the fact that he has no sensation or control in that appendage.
Damien is coming back to Melbourne from the country to have extensive surgery on various limbs due to the bones not uniting.
There's even talk of stem cell injections or something like that.
Then there's my impending operation, whenever that happens.
Still need to see the plastic surgeon before any decision on a date is made.
Hospital time is completely different to normal time, it's as if all normal temporal laws have been turned upside down.
There is no way of telling exactly how close or far away that surgery is, good example of that is Eid's delayed surgery.
He was all set to have it done and now has to wait another two weeks.
I guess these kind of operations are classed as Category 2, as in: not life threatening but necessary.


Had the pleasure of a couple of very quirky tram drivers today.
The first yelled loudly and clearly through the PA system:

"Does anyone know what the quietest form of transport in Melbourne is? Seeing as I'm not getting any replies I will now describe in great detail the next four stops."

And he did.
For the next four stops it was all:

"Next stop is Gratten Street. Here you can go to the Royal Women's Hospital, RMIT, so if anyone wishes to get to these places you should use this stop and catch the buses running east west, etc"
He seemed to posses an almost obsessive knowledge of all local attractions around each stop and delighted in enlightening the passengers in a very loud and concise manner.


The next tram driver spoke with the kind of voice usually reserved for elderly priests giving mass.
His spoke with a dead pan monotonic voice and lingered on the last syllable of every word far longer than was normal for anyone.

"Next stop is Latrobe Streeeeeet. If you have any belongings please take them with youuuuu. With have a lot of stuff left behind on the traaaaam. Don't leave them on the tram as our lost and found property department is absolutely fuuuuull. It's shocking."

Later on that tram, a lady with a pram and toddler.
The toddler, excited by the experience of riding on the tram is standing on one of the seats staring out of the window.
He spots a mcdonalds outlet and immediately brings it's existence to the attention of half the tram's passengers.
As the tram gets closer and then further away from the outlet the child's frantic "Macdonalds! Macdonalds!!!" gradually crescendos from an excited announcement to a pleading lament and finally into a full blown scream.
Beseeching his poor mother to, for all intents and purposes, stop the tram and appease his sudden need to patronise the junk food purveyor, the little brainwashed tyke is met with a "And so?" from the clearly bemused mother.
His extraordinary arousal at the sight of the outlet finally climaxes with his falling off the seat onto the floor, then confusion as to whether he should cry because of the sudden altitude change or the fact that his need for macdonalds has not been sated.
That mixed with a clear anger towards mummy was the last I saw of the disturbed little child as I alighted.
I didn't realise that macdonalds marketing and adveratising could have that big and impact on anyone, especially on someone so young.
This kid went ballistic at the sight and took temporary leave of his senses, would've jumped right out of the window if it was open.
Anyone older acting like that would usually be either snotted one on the kisser or committed to a psychiatric institution.


A very disturbing thing happened today.
I taped the wrong channel on the VCR.
Instead of the two hour season finale of Lost, all I got was some serious debate about something meaningful or other.
My life is now in a state of suspension as I try to figure out if anyone I know taped the episode, or if I can somehow find it on the net and download a copy.
AAARRGGHHHH!!!!
God I hate that show!
But I can't help watching it.
I know how that little kid felt now.


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Boy am I glad to have made it to this point in the week in one piece.
The last week has been rather taxing physically, but at the same time I've moved forward in my recovery.
Wednesday was particularly harsh, I started work at 8 and didn't finish until after 7 due to not one, but multiple spanners being thrown into the works that day. ( my current return to work plan is 6 hours a day, 3 days a week, which will change to 3 full time days as of next week ) )
We were down 3 technicians , 1 out of 2 service advisors ( not including the new one who had only started on Monday and hadn't quite got a grasp on how the place operates ), then after the spare parts bloke left for the afternoon on pre arranged leave, the remaining advisor took over his role, leaving me on the front desk with the noob and a shit load of angry customers.
I wasn't obliged to stay there that long, but couldn't let myself leave the place in a state of chaos, especially with a new service advisor having to go through a baptism of fire.
By the time I got out I felt like it was sunrise after a night of serious drug ingestion of every kind, or a round in the ring with Cassius Clay, both having the same affect.


The visit to the ortho surgeon on Thursday ended with some pretty good results really.
Of the 7 plates reinforcing my bones, 5 will be coming out.
The plate in the pelvis was inserted by a different bloke, so that's staying, and the the plate on the right ulna will also be staying.
The ulna ( part of the forearm ) has not healed, as I had suspected.
There is a clear gap which will be rectified by applying bone graft ( using the bone drilled out to remove the rods in the femurs ) and reattaching the plate.
The avascular necrosis of the femoral head ( the dying of the ball part of the hip joint ) appears to have been arrested, with no collapse and good cloudy look to it indicating the bone graft took well.
The acetabulum ( the socket part of the hip joint ) is looking good too, with the bone graft also having taken well there.
Now it's a case of having a meeting with the main plastic surgeon to discuss what, if anything can be done with my leg.
Can the muscle graft be replaced to its rightful place of residence and can the scar be reduced somewhat?
For those not familiar with my degloved leg, there's an entry here, the square bit at the top is actually my calf muscle that's been relocated to cover the metalwork to make it possible for the skin graft to be applied.
After that it's back to the chopping board, unfortunately not for the last time.
It looks as I'll need one more operation after that to remove the plate on the ulna when that comes right.
One crucial difference with this upcoming surgery under general anaesthetic is there will hopefully be photographic evidence for all to enjoy and ponder over.
I spoke to the surgeon about it and he said was more than happy to have a photographer working in the theatre and suggested I contact the clinical photography department at the hospital


I haven't taken much in the way of photos this week, probably due to having so much on and being so knackered, but I did go to an exhibition of celebrity potraits by Karin Catt.
It was an interesting experience as I found myself looking at these portraits from a photographic point of view and trying to work out techniques and tricks that were used to make the shots into the pieces of art that they are.


As the week wore on I just got became more and more frazzled and had to revert to nanna naps on two occasions.
Damn it!!
I thought I was back on the nanna nap wagon, but it appears that's not the case.


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Last week I had two important appointments scheduled.
One was with the Traffic Accident Commission to have my scars photographed by a professional photographer and the other, a meeting with my lawyer to draw up an affidavit for my case.
I missed both of them.
It's not the first time I've missed an appointment.
I was to see a neuropsychologist for an assessment a month ago and for my troubles had to pay a non attendance fee.
I don't know why these important meetings had escaped me, but on Friday I got some answers as to the possible reasons.
I had an assessment with the neuropsychologist that went for nearly four hours.
It consisted of various tests and exercises designed to map out any problems or damage relating to my head which may have been a result of the smash.
The good doctor came to the conclusion that although I am basically up to scratch intellectually, my memory and concentration has suffered noticeably.
That would explain the missed appointments and the vague outs I've experienced during conversations and activities.
I can't say that I'd noticed any blatant change straight away, but over time the missed appointments, the vague outs and flashbacks have began to take their toll and make their presence felt in earnest.
Yet another thing to deal with.


On the brighter side of things, Clarence St played host to a winter warmer party on Friday.
What better way to snap people out of their winter blues than a roaring fire, some super sweet hot chocolate with cinnamon and Tia Maria coupled with sometimes dubious selections from the vinyl collection.
Friday morning I went to work, then to the assessment, then spent the rest of the daylight hours setting the infrastructure.
I managed to set up Gemma's quick shade by myself, which was an exercise in problem solving in itself as it is designed to be erected by four people, ideally.
I then strung up the fly I used to cover the hammock on my pre surgery camping trip in November, which involved setting up ropes and moving and climbing the great wooden ladder.
By sunset it was done and I moved onto sorting out bits and pieces inside the house.
After some help form my housemates Gemma, Gino and his womans Melissa I plopped myself down in the music room to have a well needed rest.
I was rooted!!!
Stravinsky's Firebird Suite flowing form the speakers was just what I needed to unwind a bit before getting changed for the party.
Nope, not a snowflake's chance in hell.
Gemma suggested I boot up the gas heater in the music room, then the first guests started arriving.
And then it was on!
Needless to say I was pretty wrecked by the next morning and then there was a 30th birthday party to go to that night!
Then I had to pull down all the stuff I'd put up on Friday down as well.
It was by far one of the most intense weekends I'd had in a long time.
Come Monday I got home from work and had a wee lie down, only to fall asleep and wake up a few hours later.


Today I had more assessments, one with an orthopaedic specialist and the other with a psychiatrist.
The second one clashed with my psychologist appointment as I'd forgotten about that one and booked it at the same time.
More of that forgetful crap.
The orthopaedic specialist did say that he was very impressed with the progress I'd made considering the extent of the trauma and put it down to the people who have worked on me and my own efforts.
I feel he missed out the crucial friends and family part, which in my mind is just as important.


This Thursday is decision time as far as any further surgery is concerned.
I'll be seeing my main orthopaedic surgeon to discuss the healing process and future surgery.
Here's hoping for just one last big surgery to get the internal metal scaffolding out.
All goes well, I'll have the surgeon working on me for about four hours plus the plastics department working their magic as well.
There have been so many professionals involved in all this recovery process that it's quite mind boggling trying to co-ordinate them all at times.
There's the 5 orthopaedic surgeons, 2 plastic surgeons, 1 hand therapist, 2 rehab doctors, 1 neuropsycholgist, 1 psychiatrist, 3 psychologists, 4 physiotherapists, 3 hydrotherapists, 2 occupational therapists, 1 return to work officer, countless nurses, 1 lawyer, 1 accountant and I'm sure some more I've missed out at this point in time.


All in all, I'm a hell of a lot better than I was 1 year ago.
The beauty of writing a blog about all this is that I can go back in time and remind myself of how screwed up I was then and much progress I've made.
If you're scratching for something to do and have some time on yer hands then have a quick squiz at the 2006 July entries in the archives on the right hand side.



Some pics form the party and a little more street photography:
( better seen in full view )



A little street photography form the last few days:









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I saw Smiley the other day!!!
In the pre big bang days a good mate of mine Rino used to pick me up on the way to work.
We'd meet a couple of other workmates and have a couple of coffees or breakfast before going to work embarking on yet another day of well, work.
On the way to the café we would see a young chap in the order of about 12 or 13 years of age walking to school.
Every time we saw him he was quietly shuffling along, staring at the ground in front of him and smiling to himself like he'd just had his cherry popped.
Both of us were completely stuffed as to the reason for his perpetual gaiety.
Either this fellow has found the key to eternal happiness or he is retarded.
He obviously looks a little older now, but that same smile is still firmly plastered on his dial.


I finally got my record collection sorted out after the short film shoot saw it in a state of utter confusion and disarray.
There was probably about 2 feet of records that were still in order, the rest had to be pulled out, categorised and reinstated in their rightful places.
It took a few hours, but now I am able to find any given record at a moments notice with relatively little fuss and fossicking around.
Although I can't seem to find the Rolling Stones' Gimme Shelter album or the Captain and Tennille poster that came with the record that Bec got me.

Been an interesting week really.
Also been a slack one when it came to blogging, which is why I am now forced to write another lengthy post about all that really mundane crap that happened to me since last week.

Firstly, GO THE WALLABIES!!!!!! It was a really nail biting rugby game where Australia beat New Zealand in the last few minutes.
As tight as the game was I would argue that it wasn't full of moments of brilliance and as such both sides have a long way to go if they want to win this year's World Cup.


Monday: My second case of Mondayitis in two weeks , since having started working 3 days a week.
Overall, it wasn't too bad though because I didn't spend more hours than I was supposed to as my return to work plan outlines.
Last week I had spent two days of the week working until fairly late, mainly because it was end of month and financial year, and I wanted to chip in my bit.


Tuesday: I spent a few minutes on the bridge near the station where I change trams.
I was just looking for a photo opportunity and suddenly realised just how quiet it was.
Way too quiet considering it was peak hour and there were commuters everywhere.
I stood there in the middle of the bridge with my eyes closed, listening to the sounds around me.
I could hear the cars, bicycles, trams. people walking, trains nearby, but I couldn't hear any talking, car horns, tram bells or train toots.
It was rather bizarre, all the sounds of travel, but with out any of the communication.
I looked around to see if the pedestrian commuters were iPlugged in, but noticed a distinct lack of personal audio players.
Maybe it was the sunny morning that did it?
A rare moment of calm and tranquility in place of the usual noise and clatter associated with peak hour.
That was followed by some rather intensive physio, hydro and myotherapy ( muscular massage ).
The myotherapist spent about 45 minutes on one part of my lower back, working away at my muscles with very strong hands and arms, but still couldn't really loosen up that part properly.
After all that I went to visit my rehab doctor as I'd asked to see her before my scheduled appointment due to being fed up with my broken butt giving me grief.
At the end of it she was scratching her head a bit, saying she didn't really know what was wrong with me and prescribed some anti inflammatory pills to try for a week.
Afterwards I went for my usual post physio wander through in the city and ended up walking through the entire CBD, up Lygon St to Elgin St in Carlton North, a distance of about 3km.
Not a bad effort for me, although when I got home I had a lay down, and promptly fell asleep only to wake about two and a half hours later.


Wednesday: Went to work and struggled all day.
I was very sore and tired from the previous day's activities, and what's more the sore back the myotherapist was working on was now even more painful. So the whole day was a drag and I was glad to get out of work.
That evening I had my first appointment with my second psychologist.
The session went very well and this shrink had a much better approach than the previous one.
At the end of the session she proclaimed that she didn't really know what was wrong with me and will see me in two weeks.
That's twice I'd heard that in two days!
Popped in to trivia night briefly afterwards and considering we initially had a team of two and then three for the second round, I think we did well to come 3rd.


Thursday: Yet more physio and hydrotherapy, after which a couple of fellow outpatients and I went to the pub for lunch.
One good thing came out of the morning's session and that was my physiotherapist possibly finding the cause of to the pain in my bum.
After providing the key information to him, a referred pain, I was told that it may be damage to the pudendal nerve.
This would make sense as it runs right through the area where the plate was screwed into the pelvis, so whether it was damaged by the plate, the surgery or it is just receiving pressure from the plate.
I was due to have a meeting with my main orthopaedic surgeon and popped into his rooms before lunch in order to confirm the time, only to be surprised by his absence.
The receptionist provided me with the new address and informed me that he had moved there the previous Friday.
I managed to track him down and then was sent away to have x-rays done, which I'd had a quick look at.
They all looked pretty good with the exception of the ulna ( outside forearm bone ), which appears to have a gap halfway along the plated area.
Another appointment was scheduled in two weeks time and then there will be a decision made / operation scheduled.
He reckons the next surgery should last about 4 hours or so.


Friday: After a night of sleepless pain I called my manager to inform him that I would not be coming into work.
I was simply too knackered to go and spent half the day in bed.





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Got tagged by Maja and I have to write 8 facts about myself.

We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

There was no other instruction so here goes:


1) In the past I was capable of turning procrastination into a high art form. I could procrastinate about procrastinating, which takes a fair bit of skill. Uni assignments would get left till the last minute, and then I would get an extension which would enable me to procrastinate even longer. I'm a lot better now thank you, especially after the smash. I now realise that procrastinating is such a waste of time and almost criminal.

2) I love anything to do with technology and science. I really gets my boat floating when I see some new design or invention, especially the really elegant, simple, ones that make you think 'why hasn't someone thought of that before'.

3) The longest gig I'd ever done was five and a half hours with four short breaks in between. I had blisters on my fingers by the end of it and then had to drive for over an hour and a half to get home as the gig was in a country town. Soon afterwards I left that band.

4) Ignorance really shits me, especially when it's coupled with arrogance. It's the root of all other bad traits in humans and also the cause of so much misery in the world. I just don't understand how people would choose not to learn new things, have their opinions challenged, let other people control them due to a lack knowledge or insist on watching bad commercial television rather than a documentary, etc. The list is endless, but I think you get the picture.
Elective ignorance should be a punishable offence, just as corruption is.

5) I love good art and that's any kind of art. Really good quality art is timeless and always breaks through language barriers. Form ancient cave paintings to modern multimedia and everything in between, can't keep good art down. It is a shame to see great artists ignored because they're art does not fall into the 'what's in' catagory. Bad art can be amusing in itself and if marketed correctly can be very profitable as there are plenty of people out there with lots of money and no taste. Come to think of it, I really enjoy anything that is performed well, be it a sporting endeavour, social architecture, etc.

6) I despise people who whinge and whine a lot. For all you whiners out there 'Get a sense of perspective!!!!' You live in a first world country, in peacetime, have all your faculties and have no genuine reason to be so damned depressed or angry about things that are perceived by you to be important, or at least worth complaining about. Emo's obviously fall into that category and I am still surprised that an entire subculture could be based around that very concept. If the object of your anger or depression is so important and significant to you than do something about it!

7) I hate suits. I really do. I just don't get them. I have worn suits before: at weddings, court appearances, job interviews, but I lament the fact that one has to wear one in order to be presentable or employable. I don't hate them anywhere near as much as I hate ties though! These things make no sense at all, especially if you live in a hot climate like Australia. I see them as society's tool of subjugation, a conformist enemy of bohemians everywhere. I will dance in the streets when men burn their ties, a lá the bra burnings of decades past. ( don't get me wrong, nothing wrong with bras )

8) I once danced in the street with my pants off whilst singing in Spanish because I chose dare in a game of Spin the bottle Truth or Dare at the ripe old age of 17.


I gots to tag 8 other people now so I tag : Bec, Karen , Safe T , Gorilla Bananas , Turtle , Mitch , Shoopska , Tony .