New date

We were on standby for surgery as of 5pm yesterday evening. We had fasting instructions and were told that we would receive a phone call by 9am this morning to let us know whether or not we were to come in for surgery today.

Part of us was happy and excited. The other part of us was nervous - after all, we are talking about major surgery here.

We got the call at 8:30am this morning. She could stop fasting as the surgery wouldn't be happening today but we got a date. Friday 10th February - sometime around midday.

So, we can unpack the bags and get back to normality for a little while. She'll start school on Thursday and I will go back to work for three days next week. I can move Sarah back to her student residence this weekend without any worries about not being at the hospital.

It's a relief having a date. It's a relief knowing that this anticipation will be over soon.

Here, now

Truth be told I miss OpenDiary something fierce. I miss the friends I met there. Actual friends who became real life friends. It's only my stubbornness stopping me from going back, not wanting to be seen as a hypocrite to my own words by someone who really shouldn't matter.

I hate it that he still does.

So, big things did not happen last Friday. Last Friday was supposed to be G's surgery day. Poor kid started fasting from 9pm the night before, had her last drink of water at 6am on the day of surgery as instructed. We arrived at the hospital at 7:15am as instructed and then we waited....

......and waited......

............and waited......

And then we waited some more.

At noon we were called in to talk to the anesthetist who gave the ok for G to have a drink of apple juice as she wasn't to be done for several hours yet. He ordered her pre-med for 2:30pm as she was scheduled for 3pm. We were allowed to wander downstairs to get a bite to eat (her dad and I). When we were down there we bumped into her surgeon who apologized profusely saying there had been emergencies, problems with the hydraulics on the operating table and various other logistical issues. He also indicated that if the delays continued he would be really reluctant to begin the surgery so late, given the enormity of the procedure and the fact that we were looking at her being in there for anything up to six to eight hours. This would mean that they'd be working well into the night.

After a quick bite we went upstairs to resume our waiting. At about 3pm we were finally called in, G was gowned up and the pre-med was administered...a rich cocktail of powerful drugs that knocked her completely for six and made everything funny. She was very relaxed and unafraid.

It was then that the surgeon came in in his scrubs, talking on his mobile. He finished the call and said that he'd been talking to the Chief of Surgery (who, incidentally, has operated on G before and has to be about the nicest man you could meet!) and they both decided that due to the lateness of the hour and the length of the surgery, it would be best for it to be cancelled and rescheduled.

I took it well so they said. What would have been the point of ranting and raving? It happens. I had no control over it so the next best thing was to control myself and accept that this was the situation. I cant deny I was devastated. I was. We'd been emotionally psyching ourselves up for this day for such a long time and to not have it happen was a real blow. We had all this energy that we didn't know what to do with. It was awful.

To make matters worse we had to tell G, who was drifting in and out of consciousness at this stage. We'd tell her and it would register and she'd get angry and cry and then drift into oblivion again and forget...then she'd wake and ask if she'd had the surgery so we'd have to break the news to her again and she'd cry and get upset...again....and so it went on like this for an hour or so. It was like talking to an Alzheimer's patient...and trust me, I've experienced that with my Grandmother.

So, there you have it. We're in limbo. No date, back at home. Not quite knowing what to do next. Do I send her off for her first day of school on Thursday? (she's going into Year 10) Do I go back to work? Where exactly are we?

One thing we do know is that we're ready. G is so ready. She is no longer afraid. She knows that she will be fine. She just wants relief from the anticipation.

When the circus comes to town

As you're probably aware, I was the only person of short stature in my family. My mother, father, 2 brothers and 4 sisters were all average height. You might think that this made me stick out like a sore thumb, but honestly it really didn't feel like it to me. Sure, there would be the double-take and people noticing me and looking, but nothing I couldn't handle. People moved on and I didn't feel singled out, nor did I feel as though I attracted an abnormal amount of attention.

It's not like that now that I am part of a family where all six members are short statured...and I'm really only just admitting to myself (and now to the blogosphere) just how difficult I have found it. When we go anywhere together in public we automatically attract a lot of attention and it feels like the circus has come to town.

For some reason I didn't find it was as bad when the children were all young...or maybe I was just so busy looking after my little brood that I just didn't notice as much. Now it's quite intense and I find I have to steel myself against it before getting out of the car and going about our business.

I've realized I am a very private person who doesn't like calling attention to herself. Sure I like public speaking and performing, but these things are within a context and controllable. People are there for the specific purpose to hear what I have to say or see a particular, planned performance, but when we're all out and about then that's private. It's not for watching, or staring, or digging your friend in the ribs so they'll have a gawk too.

I know there's nothing I can do about human behaviour. I know all there is to do is just continue going about our daily business and develop some kind of mental and emotional barrier that gives us the illusion of privacy. I can do this when I'm on my own. It's easy. My brother taught me how. You simply get out of your car and be intent in your purpose. You don't look for the people looking, you don't look people in the eye as you stride purposefully through the mall or the street (unless of course you wish to connect directly with someone like a shopkeeper or service provider). I've tried it and it works well for me. I've had to practice it though because I am and always have been, a person who likes to feel connected with the people around me. However, for this purpose, this method had given me the illusion of anonymity and camouflage.


If I can't see you, you can't see me!

 But to do it when we're out en masse and attracting a lot of attention is a bigger challenge. My kids catch me looking for the lookers and encourage me to just ignore it. Maybe they find it easier because this is all they have known, whereas I've known something different and I still have not yet adjusted to living under the public microscope.

In which she keeps to her theme of the year and finishes last minute preparations..

It's been a good week for my final week of holidays. I go back to work next week. I'm not looking forward to it and I feel really bad about that because I'll only be there for three days (Thursday is a public holiday) and then I'll be on Carers and Compassionate Leave until February 27 whilst Georgia recovers from her spinal fusion. Still, I'm not looking forward to going back. I've gotten way too happy and content staying at home and pottering about.

This week I have been really kind to myself. I've done a few bits and pieces, tidied up some official business with the Tax Office and the Child Support Agency (I had no idea that I had to officially register with them, only learning that I did after Centrelink cut my payments down to the bare minimum) but spent most of the time doing crochet and having a movie marathon. It's been great. I've walked the dog, been jogging, baked and had great conversations with the kids. I could get used to this. I really could.

There has been no word on when my new job will be starting. All the official documentation hasn't been approved as yet so there is no licence to operate. Not only that but the outfitting of the rooms hasn't been completed either so even the physical environment isn't even ready. On one hand it is really quite frustrating, but with Georgia having surgery and having a long recovery it's also like having my cake and being able to eat it too. See, I still have a job. I haven't yet handed in my resignation, nor have I even told them that I've secured a position at the Day Care. AAV is a very flexible and understanding workplace so they are more than happy for me to take as much time as Georgia needs whilst she recovers. It really couldn't have worked out any better.

Today Georgia and I had an MRI appointment at the hospital. This will be her last test before the big day next Friday. I'm really glad the scan had been organised as it gives the surgeon a much clearer picture of the state of her spine and spinal cord. As the date draws nearer I feel more calm. I don't know why. Maybe it has to do with the fact that we are going into this surgery fully informed and confident that the decisions we have made are the right ones for Georgia. Do we want to do this surgery? No. If there was a way out of it we'd take it, but we know the consequences of saying no so the surgery is her best option.

After the MRI we also visited the ward where she'll be staying, just so it's familiar to her when we go there on Friday. I think it helped calm her nerves a little.

So, we're as ready as we can be. We've planned all we can plan. I know what song she wants to hear as she drifts off to sleep. There is nothing more to do except turn up.

Halfway house

This weekend has been a time of having the house filled. My daughters friends are here and they have made the house come alive with laughter and stories and music and wine and cider and silliness. I love it. I love how the faces of my kids become animated in the presence of these two vibrant people. I love how they just come into my home and relax. It's what I've always wanted - a home where others feel relaxed; not because I'm good at entertaining. Far from it! I suck at entertaining, but I love how people can drift in here and feel as though they belong.

Having said that though I find myself at times wistfully longing for the days when my children were little ones; where there was routine - particular mealtimes, bath times, story time and bed times. There would actually be an end to the day where the children were all curled up asleep in their beds and then there would come the time where grown ups could have their time; where parents could finish off chores in peace or spend some quality time alone, talking about hopes and dreams and their own silliness, watch a movie together and then perhaps go to bed and make love in the quietness of the house.

Now there's always someone still up when my day ends. Sometimes I can get up at 2am and there will be an adult child watching a movie or surfing the net or talking with a random friend who may be staying over that night. There are bodies in the house all the time. My days off work are never spent alone these days. Time by myself is a precious commodity.

Today I feel over stretched. I long for solitude.

Impact period - six months

People come into your life. Some drift in and stay for the rest of your life. Others are there for a period - years and years maybe - and then they slowly make their way out again, or you both drift apart ever so slowly. Then there are those who are there for an extremely short period of time but the impact they have on your life is lifelong.

My third grade teacher, Mr L, was one such person.

Between the years of 1974 and 1978 my family and I moved a couple of times. The first time we moved just across the border of NSW and stayed there for 13 months. It felt like forever back then because in those short 13 months I can remember making a whole gaggle of new friends and starting a new school. What I didn't know at the time was that my mother and father would do some ground work before I started school and "prepare the soil" as it were. When they had selected a school they would have an interview with the principal and prepare him/her for my arrival, making sure that they understood that I had dwarfism, that I was very small and that I was to be treated just like everyone else. The principal would then let my class teacher know and the class teacher would then have a chat to my classmates about me, preparing them for my arrival so that when I joined their class on my first day the class would be naturally curious, but polite and kind at the same time.

Unfortunately, when we moved to a school in South Gippsland in the July of 1975, the lines of communication kind of got mixed up a little. Yes, my parents had the interview with the principal but the principal neglected to let my class teacher know. This teacher was Mr L. I don't know what was with that principal. Mum and Dad told me years and years later that they came away from the interview thinking that this man didn't really "get it".

Consequently when I arrived at that school for my first day and was presented at my third grade classroom the entire class simply went nuts. I can remember a lot of loud, hysterical laughter. Somehow I was unperturbed by this. I just didn't get it. At the age of eight I still hadn't grasped the concept that I looked different/ To me I was just little. Lots of people were little - maybe not as little as me, sure, but there were still people who were little so the concept that I actually looked different did not occur to me. I didn't associate the laughing with the idea that I was different. I simply thought the kids were laughing because there was a new kid joining their ranks.

Somehow Mr L gained control of the class and settled me in. I do remember the kids being extremely curious and asking a billion questions - most of them mainly to do with proving that I was just as old as them. I specifically remember them asking what "Times Table"I was up to. "Do you know your sevens? Eights? Tens?"'Being a real Maths dunce I only knew up to my threes but wanting to impress, I answered that I knew them all.

When all had quietened down and he had a spare moment, Mr L allegedly flew up to the Principals office and tore strips off him. He was horrified that he hadn't been told about me - not that he had a problem with it or anything, but if he had've known he would have been able to prepare the class so that my entry into their ranks could have been so much more positive. He was embarrassed for me, embarrassed for my parents and for himself.

The six months I spent in Mr L's class were amongst the best times I ever had at school. Ever. I can't remember much of what I learned in his class. Do we ever remember the specifics of what we learned in Primary School? I remember that he would conduct home visits for Parent-Teacher interviews and when he came to our place my Mum tells me that he said that I was "pretty thick"when it came to General Knowledge". Not that he meant that harshly or anything. It was just the way people spoke back in country Victoria in the 70's.

Mr L was fun but firm. He would play records at the class whilst we worked. Songs from groups such as ABBA, AC/DC, The Ted Mulry Band, Skyhooks, The Sweet, Bay City Rollers and Dragon always takes me back to those few short months in Mr L's class. I remember a lot of fun and laughter. I also remember that if a child was naughty (especially the boys), Mr L would take out the metre ruler and whack them over the bum with it. Funny thing was that ALL of the kids in that class LOVED Mr L. A smack with the metre ruler was deserved, as far as we were concerned.

We had a class budgie called Tweety who would be let out of his cage on occasion and let fly around the class. The greatest honor Mr L could bestow was to choose someone to take Tweety home to be cared for  over the weekend. I was honored with that job twice and I don't think there has been any budgie in history cared for with such love and concern!

But the best thing Mr L ever did for me was how he enabled me to participate in sport so that I felt equal. Being the smallest (and possibly least sporty) in the class I would often be picked last for teams - a sad, lonely and humiliating thing for any child to go though. There were times though when Mr L would take us out to play rounders, softball or cricket and he would make ME one of the captains of a team. Imagine the delight I felt being able to choose my own team! It was fantastic! Being in Mr L's class was the one time I really loved playing sport. My mother remembers that there would be times where I came home and told her, ''I made a home run today, Mum!" every day of the week. Curiosity got the better of her one day and she asked me, "Leis', how are you making all these home runs?"
''Easy!"I said, "Mr L hits the ball for me and I run!"This made her laugh because of course Mr L would hit the ball right across the oval which meant I had plenty of time to get to the bases! With me making all these home runs I became reasonably popular amongst my team mates, which meant that I wouldn't always be the last one to be picked if I didn't happen to be chosen as captain.

As a result, Mr L gave me the best gift a teacher could give a child with a difference. He made me feel the same. He fostered a feeling of belonging, of confidence. He didn't let my difference stop me from totally participating in everything the other kids were doing. He didn't single me out, he didn't make me feel different, he didn't make me feel more special than the other kids. I was just one of the kids, just as it should have been. I don't think any other teacher managed to give me that sense quite the way Mr L did.

I only had Mr L as a teacher for six short months. After that year, Mr L moved away and got married and we never saw him again. I think of Mr L often and wonder where he is. Did he stay in teaching? Is he still alive? I would love to see him again and let him know what an impression he made on my life. I would love to thank him. Does he ever remember me?

In the words of old Rose in the movie Titanic, "I don't even have a picture of him. He exists only in my memory."I don't even remember what he looked like, but somehow that doesn't matter.

Maybe one day he will stumble across this little blog. If you are reading this and you happened to be a third grade teacher in 1975 in a small country school in South Gippsland, where the main industry was the timber mill and the majority of the kids in your class were from poor, low socio-economic families...then....THANK YOU! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I hope you know you were one of the best teachers that ever was. You were fun. You were fair. And you let one little girl feel that she was an important part of a group, that she was the same as everyone else. You gave her confidence. You made her feel included. I can't thank you enough.

2012 One Word

This is my word for 2012 - Kindness. I decided upon this word as 2011 drew to a close. I didn't want to make resolutions. I really don't see the point in them. Goals, yes. Hopes, yes...but resolutions no. As  result I thought I would try something different - a one word theme for the year instead.

I decided upon the word Kindness for myself. Kindness towards others isn't a problem for me. I sometimes don't understand other people but try and put myself in their shoes, see things from their perspective and give them the benefit of the doubt. However I am terribly hard on myself. I expect so much of myself in action, thought, attitude and achievement. If I make a mistake I mentally beat myself up for it, regardless of the fact that my intentions may have been good. I'll work too hard, give too much, deny myself things so that another person can benefit.

It occured to me at the end of 2011 that I wasn't doing myself any favors. I needed to give myself the same breaks that I give other people. Saying "No"when I really can't do something or even don't want to is not a bad thing. It is being kind to myself. It is giving myself a break and the chance to rest, regroup and assert myself into a situation, rather than letting the circumstance or situation dictate my actions. Treating myself with a day of doing nothing but crochet and watching DVD's is not being lazy, it is having a well-deserved rest and a chance to relax. It is allowing me to refuel my tanks and renew my strength.

So far, so good. I guess it's been easier to be kind to myself as I'm on holidays and don't have to go back to work until January 23, but I have been really kind to myself since the beginning of the year. I've had "lazy days"where I've pretty much done nothing but sit around the house watching DVD's with the kids. I've baked yummy things, I've crocheted all day, I've been to the movies with a friend. I've been shopping with my daughters and sat on the beach eating fish and chips watching the sun go down. I've had to go into work once to train someone but I set boundaries on the time I spent there. I've had good conversations with my husband and we seem to have gotten somewhere in our communications.

Kindness is my word for 2012. It fills me with hope and peace. I'm really looking forward to seeing the fruits it brings.

Joining in with Maxabella's One Word 2012.

Speak up! I can't hear you!

I am deaf at the moment. No, I take that back. I'm totally deaf in one ear. I made the mistake of having a swim in my brothers pool on one of those recent hot days we had, went underwater and came up with blocked ears. The left one is pretty ok now, but the right one is awful. I went to the doctors a couple of days ago and after having a look he said that the right one is totally blocked with wax and wants me to try a softener before he syringes it. Three days later and it's still giving me merry heck. I hate it. I'm astounded at how much it affects everything! My balance is off, I find it hard to discern how loud or soft I am speaking and I find I have to concentrate extra hard when I am driving. I can't wait until it's better. It's starting to become painful!



Ears - funny looking things but it's amazing how much a hearing person needs them!

 I need to do a "Stories from way back when post." I want to write something about school experiences and a particular teacher that made a monumental impact on my life. It's been running around in my head for days. Stay tuned....