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JAYNE WITH A WHY |
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January 2006 . : On My Perch at Night, I'm Reading A Book On My Kindle: .
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Wednesday, October 31, 2007GOOD FRIENDSI finally managed to grab a couple of hours with good friend kaya yesterday. I just feel kinda drained with all that's been going on with Grandma, so it was good to get out of the apartment for a coupla hours (and not have to go to the hospital!) just to sit & have a good whinge & drink a few capuccino's. Since meeting kaya last year, I have learned so much - about Muslims, about all the differences between our countries & cultures. One day, I hope she'll get to Souf Efrika, same as I hope to get to Pakistan. We have laughed together & there have been the odd occasions when we have cried together. We accept each other for who we are. We only live four blocks apart & phone or SMS each other daily, but due to family constraints, we don't get out together too often. Somehow though, there's very little that remains unspoken between us - we have no barriers. So, my friend, I just want to say thanks. Thanks for helping me maintain my insanity, for listening to me unload, for driving me about when I didn't have the confidence to drive myself, for trusting me, for making the best hot & sour soup in Abu Dhabi(!) & for just taking time out for me, when I know you've got heaps of things to do. You are a STAR & I just want to say I appreciate our friendship so very much.  Sorry I had to blur your face hon, but one can never gauge the reaction of your (many) Blog fans. Who knows, I might have to call the police...................ahem........coff coff.......to fight the fans off that is!  
Sunday, October 28, 2007IT AIN'T OVER 'TIL THE FAT LADY SINGSButterfly kisses on your hair so fine your pain echos on every laughter line. Each breath you take a visible strain, the oxygen mask disguising your pain. Bruised hands hold translucent skin, hiding the strength you hold within. So brave, Flowerpot no flowing tears, giving way to untold fears.................. I wrote this last night. I couldn't finish it - maybe out of a secret fear that Grandma wouldn't get past the latest hurdle. We went across to the hospital - the dreaded wheelchair 'run' - in order for Grandma to have her dressing changed. The doc took one look at it, then beckoned me to see. The staples were being forced apart & the wound was so wide I could see the intestines trying to poke through. She had to go into surgery again, as fast as possible. A few hours later, Grandma was back in ICU. We were allowed to spend a few minutes with her. She was in pain & battling to breathe - literally sucking as hard as she could on the oxygen mask. It was horrible to see. We left her in excellent hands & then came home to another restless night. Fast forward to this morning: I make my way across the road & up to ICU. I'm greeted by a LGHOL, with colour in her cheeks & a welcoming smile. My heart lifts at the sight of her - she looks a hundred times better than last night! "Ey up Flower" I say, "You're looking good" "Hallo love" she replies, "I wish they'd hurry up & bring my cuppa tea! The doctor said I can have one & I'm bloody gasping!" Our Flowerpot, our Little Grey Haired Old Lady has the fighting spirit of a hundred warlords. She's having some pretty staunch physiotherapy on her lungs & will be having another pint or two of the red stuff, but there's a good chance she'll be home again by Thursday.
Friday, October 26, 2007WATCH MY LIPS!This is a conversation that took place earlier this evening, between myself & an imbicle employed to answer the phone for (and at) L******e Hospital, Abu Dhabi. "Hello L******e Hospital, how may I help you?" "Good evening. Arrangements have been made to collect a patient, from our apartment, with a wheelchair. I am still waiting for the wheelchair." "You want breast mammogram yes?" GIVE ME FUCKING STRENGTH!!! *eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek* . There is no possible form of connotation between the words WHEELCHAIR & MAMMOGRAM. Some 4hrs after this conversation, I'm still stunned that the village idiot who is entrusted to answer a potentially life & death service, could possible think I asked for a mammogram, when I CLEARLY requested the wheelchair. . I have shed tears tonight, out of pure & utter frustration. They are no doubt, just the beginning of many more tears to come. I don't know how long it will take for one of two things to happen: . I will either get my request for a wheelchair (for grandma) implemented from the highest authority at L******e Hospital (as I will be complaining in the most vigourous manner tomorrow) . OR . I will just get violent. . Every day this week, I have been promised a wheelchair, to collect grandma from the apartment & then deliver/wheel her across the junction of Electra & 4th Streets to the hospital. Every day, I have had to telephone & ask where it is. The cut across grandma's abdomen has opened & there is a considerable amount of fluid draining from it, which has to be cleaned & re-dressed in a sterile enviroment on a daily basis. It is extremely painful for her to climb up into our car, as it's a 4x4 - hence the arrangement with the wheelchair was made. Personally, I feel the wound will remain open for at least another week. If this is the case, there is no way I am going to 'remind' personnel at the hospital that I need the wheelchair EVERY day. Someone will have my boot mark on his arse. It should be a big enough reminder.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007DO I LAUGH OR CRY?On Monday night, Hubs & I decided that we would join friends M & M for the weekly Pub Quiz night. We didn't go last week, as we were both totally shattered from waiting for grandma to come out of surgery. So, this week, knowing Grandma was OK at home, we decided to go out. Ironically, the bloody quiz was cancelled, but a good evening was had by all. We got home around 10 past midnight. All the living room & kitchen lights were on, which was normal. I saw a small pinkish puddle on the floor, near the kitchen. I looked down the hall & saw a good 3 metre trail of pinky brownish puddles, which stopped at the doorway into grandma's bedroom. I said "What the feck?" swiftly followed by a near panic shriek of "Grandma!!!!!!!!!" I rushed to her room, switched on the light (her room was in darkness) & this little timid voice surfaced from under the duvet "It's OK, I'm alright." "Why the hell didn't you phone me grandma? Your cellphone is here, so why didn't you phone???" "Well..........there's nothing to worry about. I'm OK now" Sixty seconds of intense questioning - where/why/why/how did this happen? was followed by a phone call to the surgeon, who not surprisingly didn't answer his phone. (He told us to ring him if there was a problem) Plan B, phone the hospital! Spoke to one of the nurses, who told me to bring grandma across to the Emergency room. Despite the odd comments of "the nurses aren't as rough as you" & "ouch - can't you pull the sticky plaster off slowly?!" I managed to get the wound dressing partially off of Grandma's tummy, but just couldn't see where all the bloody coloured liquid was coming from. Her nightie was drenched in it. Her slippers were soaking in it. The hallway was decorated with it & all the while, this little grey haired old lady is telling me "don't worry, it's nothing, I'll be fine." My mind is screaming silently - Get off The Fecking Cross Woman - there's other buggers that need the wood! Christ, she does my head in sometimes! Hubs has stayed in the background - his expression tells me he would merrily chew on a bunch of scorpions if it would stop his mother being a martyr. She's pushed him & us too far this time. It's been bad enough trying to get the bloody woman to see a doctor to begin with. For months she's complained about a pain in her tummy, but every time I told her I'd take her to see a doctor, the pain miraculously disappeared. Result? Major friggin surgery & a tumour in her colon, just for good measure. I change grandma's nightie, get her another pair of slippers & ask Hubs to bring her downstairs, while I go & fetch the car. We eventually load her in & then drive about 600m to the emergency room. She's taken from the car by wheelchair & is made comfortable on a bed. The duty doc arrives within seconds & I explain to him that grandma has had half her colon removed a week ago. "Half her colon?" he says, looking at me in a very puzzled way. I'm tempted to tell him that her waters have just broken & at 78yrs of age she's going to have a baby, but I repeat my point about the surgery. Many phone calls & 30 odd minutes later, another doctor appears - he knows grandma, as he partnered the surgeon when she had her op. He listens to my version of events, then says to grandma "Hello Amy, how are you?" "I'm fine doctor - I don't know what all the fuss is about! There's only a little bit of blood, nothing to worry about........" "That's my Amy - always happy & smiling" chirps the doc. Always happy & smiling? Always fecking happy & smiling? Dear Lord, give me bloody strength!!! The doc examines her & finally opens up a space between staples in the wound, applies pressure & about half a litre of bloody gunk comes out. He cleaned out as much as possible, plugged the hole with gauze, put a new dressing on & then told us we could take her home again. It was nearly 2.30a.m. Hubs took grandma up to the apartment, while I went & put the car away again. By the time I got back, she was a very subdued little grey haired old lady. She unfortunately had pushed Hubs' (Wrong Button!) once too often. There was no excuse* & she had no excuse for not ringing us. We would have come home immediately. The "I don't want to bother anyone/put anyone out/don't worry I'm fine" excuse has reached its limit. He is emotionally & physically drained. He cannot take any more episodes like this, because he'll crack completely & then we're all well & truly stuffed. A brief conversation took place, between Hubs & Grandma. "What's Sue's** address & phone number?" "I don't know off-hand, somewhere in New Zealand.............she never gave me her phone number. Why?" "Because grandma, the next time you even think of pulling a stunt like this, I'm going to get in touch with Sue. Then I'm going to put you on a plane to New Zealand." (DEATHLY SILENCE) "And then it's up to your daughter - whether she collects you from the airport or not." I checked in on grandma & gave her something for pain, which she miraculously didn't have whilst being poked & prodded, but did after her bollocking. Hubs & I sat for a while, talked until exhaustion took over & finally hit the perch just after 3a.m. Yesterday, I made arrangement with the hospital for an orderly to come & collect her in a wheelchair, because it's difficult & painful for grandma to climb in & out of the car. She was checked by her surgeon & was once again her chirpy self...............................until I shot her down in flames. The doctor asked if she'd been walking about much. "Yes - I've been walking around the apartment quite a bit" she chirped. I couldn't help myself! I called her a bloody liar. She'd shuffled at a snails pace from her bedroom to the kitchen & back again - once during the day. The doc accepts my version of events. "Any pain Amy?" he asks. "No, no pain at all" she gushes. Sod me.................someone hold me back, cos I'm gonna smack her any minute I swear. She counts the bloody hours from one painkiller to the next! *Very BIG Sigh* Today has seen an improvement. Our LGHOL is walking a bit better, but is still clinging to her tummy like its going to drop off any second. At time of writing, I'm waiting for an orderly to come & collect her with a wheelchair again, as she has to go back & get her dressing changed. I will be with her & today I will thankfully have a bit more positive feedback for the doctor. I just hope the pathology results are in & that it's good news. During the past couple of days, I've laughed & I've cried. I've laughed because even in times of crisis, I can usually see the funny side of things. (Yeah grandma, just because you've had surgery, doen't mean I can't chuck you off the balcony!) I've cried, out of pure frustration more than anything. We have a potentially life threatening situation on our hands. We don't know yet if grandma is going to recover nicely from this, or if the cancer has spread. We nursed Grandad (my father-by-law) through surgery to remove a brain tumour, radiation treatment & 3 months of gradual deterioration, until he died. I don't want to go through the same thing again. No child, no matter his or her age, wants to watch their parents suffer through illness. Grandma has lived with me as a permanent tea/coffee maker/household-fixture/fag-ash dropper since grandad died. She's a very big part of the family who simply cannot be replaced. Unlike grandad though, she does not want to accept help, without putting up a bloody fight first & sadly, I feel that will be her downfall. She's an incredibly generous woman & has always put others before herself. Just once though, she has to understand the importance of having to let herself be first - she just has do that now. *She KNOWS how to use her cell phone, but in her own words "can't be bothered with it". **My sister-by-law............Hubs' sister. Not liked for many reasons.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007GRANDMA'S DOING GOOD Well, the 'mass' that the doctors told us about turned out to be a tumour in Grandma's colon & she had to have some pretty hasty surgery. She's now minus one tumour & about 50% of her colon. She's being really brave bless her, especially considering this is the first operation in her life.
Monday, October 08, 2007THE WAITING GAME This photo of Grandma, our infamous Little Grey Haired Old Lady, was taken last year at the Iranian (plant) souk in Port Zayed. It typifies Grandma, because if she's surrounded by plants & has her fags at the ready, she's a happy woman. The only thing missing is a dop* but considering the time of day & location, that wasn't a good idea. . . Right now, Grandma is 'over the road' - in a hospital about a hundred metres from the apartment - and as I write, is undergoing a colonoscopy**. . . The doctors have told us they've found a 'mass' in her intestines. . . They also told us it would take 4 - 5 days for the results of a biopsy taken during the colonoscopy. . . We're playing the waiting game. . . I can't even begin to explain how we're feeling right now. . . * Dop = drink, in Grandma's case, normally a brandy. ** Colonoscopy - The camera up the chutney pipe jobby.
Thursday, October 04, 2007ITS BACK!I absolutely loved the first series of Little Mosque On The Prairie - courtesy of the ever popular YouTube, which hasn't been banned/blocked (yet). So naturally, I'm very pleased to see that the Season 2 premiere apparently aired on Canadian TV last night. Time for me to start checking The Tube at regular intervals, cos for some strange reason, I can't see it being broadcast on local TV! 
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