Memory Making

Let me tell you a story. A few years ago I met a lady whom had 4 children under 6, I had heard all about her children, particularly “the troublemaker;” the eldest child, a little boy we’ll call Samuel, who was from her first marriage, which had ended very badly, with a lot of bitterness and pain. The other 3 were to her second marriage which was very happy and satisfying. I was visiting her at home and I met her kids, the baby of the family was around 18 months old, the next was another sweet little girl around 3, then there was a boy who was 5. And then there was Samuel, a blonde haired blue eyed angelic looking child whom clearly adored his mother. The first thing that I noticed was how she treated Samuel like a servant, this 6 year old boy fetched for her, cleaned for her, changed nappies, prepared bottles for his little brother and sisters, the kid was run ragged. He was pushing his youngest sister on the swing; she was the baby of the family and the absolute apple of her mothers’ eye, when suddenly we heard a scream. We rushed outside to find the little girl on the ground crying with Samuel trying to comfort her. He quickly tried to explain to his mother that she had fallen out of the swing, but she wouldn’t listen. She picked up the baby and went berserk at Samuel, “You pushed her, I know you did! I hate you Samuel, I wish you father would take you!” This little boy stood there and just took the abuse; what else could he do? His little face fell and then, and this is what really scared me, his expression went completely blank, he had obviously had this kind of treatment off his mother many times before. I was really haunted by this little boy; I went home that night with him on my mind.

I have two godsons; one of them was spending the day with me when he was about 4 years old. We decided to go for a walk to the local library and as we walked along we passed a house with a high timber fence. The next thing we knew, a huge dog ran to the fence and started barking viscously at us. Instantly I grabbed my godson and ran. Now, the dog didn’t break through the fence and chase us as I thought it was going to, but it was a scary experience for both my godson and I and we were a bit shaken up, but over all fine. It was a few years later at a family barbeque that my godson brought this incident up, and he very proudly told the family how brave I was and that I had saved him from the big dog. Apparently I was a hero as far as he was concerned; his memory isn’t of how quickly the whole thing was over, his memory is of the dog trying to get us through fence and me saving him from being eaten by the big scary dog. You know what, I’m fine with him having this memory of me, any memory where I am the hero is all good, but what I really care about is that my godson has a memory that he will take into adulthood where I took care of him, I was there for him; that’s what important to me. I think that sometimes as adults we get so caught up in just surviving life that we forget that those little eyes and ears that we’re so busy taking care of are soaking everything up and making memories of the simplest things that they will carry into adulthood.

I’m happy to tell you that Samuel’s life took a turn for the better; he eventually went to live with his father and his new wife where he was loved and nurtured for the wonderful little boy that he was. He went on to become a strong, confident man with far more positive memories of his childhood than negative ones. I've learned a lot from meeting Samuel, now if I find myself snapping at a child, I think to myself, “Is this a memory that I want this child to carry with them for the rest of their lives?”

Just a Quickie

I just couldn't resist telling you all about this. The other morning I went to check emails and my mouse wasn't working. I mentioned it to Brad whom was standing next to me and he suggested that I check if is dirty. I turned it over to find this:

Awwww. I'm a lucky woman ❤❤❤❤

Losing my Independence

For me the hardest thing to deal with at the moment is losing my independence. I am - or was - a supremely independent woman, that's how my mum raised me, I've travelled by myself, lived alone and financially taken care of myself for years, however now I sometimes can no longer do the simplest things by myself. Take housework, once upon a time I hated it and each push of the vacuum cleaner was done with a vile mutter under my breath, now I would give anything to physically be able to pick up my vacuum cleaner and clean the floor when I saw that it needed doing. Or to be able to put a load of washing on when I notice that its piling up. But no, now Brad has to do those things because I physically I am not capable anymore; there is no way I can carry a basket full of clothes downstairs (my house is high set) and then walk back up again, its just too much for me anymore. And I HATE it. I hate not being able to do these things more than I hated doing them once upon a time.

This loss of independence covers other areas too, like personal care. Having a shower is a huge energy zap to me, I don't quite know why, but all I know is that by the time I get into the shower, with my oxygen on, and then lather up I'm exhausted so trying to hold my arms above my head to wash my hair is impossible so I lean over the bath tub and Brad washes it for me then blow dries it afterwards. On a really bad day I have trouble drying myself and then dressing but on a good day I can do all of this but really, really slowly. A ten minute shower now takes me around 40 minutes.

Cooking is something that you wouldn't think could be that taxing right? Wrong! Even though we bought a fold up stool that I sit on at the kitchen bench I find preparing a meal as tiring as a 3km fun run I used to do for fun! As I said earlier, my house is high set, it has 20 stairs front and back and those stairs are incredibly difficult for me to undertake. Of course its not so bad going down them but coming up them, ughhhh. Lots of times Brad carries me. Those stairs scare me to be honest, because I know that the day will come when I won't be able to walk up them even at a snails pace and I will solely be dependent on someone or something else to get into my own home. And that is a very scary thought.

The Most Unromantic Night of my Life - The Night Brad Proposed

The night Brad proposed to me, what a night it was! He had picked up the ring from the jeweller during the week while I was still in hospital but he was under strict instructions to not propose until I was home again. I was discharged on Friday morning and guessing that tonight would be the night, I planned a special dinner to be proposed over, lol. Dinner. Well, in short, I ruined every single aspect of the meal. I put the vegetables in the oven then went to have a bath and shave my legs. A good deal of time later Brad called out that something was burning and we discovered that the vegetables were charcoal. Next came the chicken breasts in creamy green peppercorn sauce. I am told that I must have had the heat up too high because when I came into the kitchen to check on my delicious delights, the cream had split the curds from the whey and they had splattered onto the inside of the glass frying pan lid, looking very much like white diarrhoea, and the very overcooked chicken fillets were floating in whitish water. Gross.

Ever my hero, Brad proceeded to cut the burned bits off the vegetables and discreetly tipped the sauce into the sink while I went and got dressed up for the big moment. I came out of the bedroom looking ravishing in a lovely dress, hair done, jewellery on - that would compliment my soon-to-be engagement ring of course, only to find Brad had turned on the tv and we were watching "Gene Simmons Family Jewels" as we ate. Oh dear. We struggled our way through dinner when my stomach started making some very unladylike sounds. I had had a colonoscpy the day before and the nurse told me that I may still be a "little loose" the next day. Since I had poo'ed approximately every meal I'd eaten since my teens, I thought I was fine. Little did I know because my stomach got louder and louder and louder. Finally I ran to the toilet and proceeded to make some of the most un-godly sounds that have ever been emitted from a human being before. I was in there ages and when I finally came out Brad was standing there waiting for me because he was worried. I looked him in the eye and said, "Don't go in there."

Next Brad suggested we go for a family walk. Sure, why not? I was now as bloated as a 6 month pregnant woman and felt horrid but who could resist a family walk? I got changed into my oldest, most baggy trackie pants and a tshirt and we strolled to the park with Brad's skipping ropes he uses in his workouts. I say strolled to be kind to myself, I walk at a snails pace but not out of choice. We get to the park and go to the half basketball court and start mucking around skipping. Well, the best way to describe it is to say that Brad was showing off; I would do 2 skips then have a coughing fit but Brad would do 12 before he stopped. After a while I decided to show him how well I could skip so I got up and started to skip like the blazers. I was feeling pretty good, we were in a park on one of the busiest main roads of Brisbane with hundreds of cars whizzing past and I was skipping like a champion. Then it happened. My tracksuit pants fell down to my ankles. OMG. I was standing there in my knickers, tshirt and shoes. We both went hysterical laughing as I scrambled to pull my pants back up and we laughed ourselves silly. Which of course made me have a coughing fit and cough and cough and cough until I vomited up all of my dinner. It was then, sitting in the middle of the half basketball court, having just vomited, that Brad decided to do the deed. He took me in his arms, said many beautiful things then asked, "Will you be mine forever?" I gave an ecstatic yes then he took the ring out of his pocket and slipped it on my finger.

So there ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how Brad and I got engaged. A ruined dinner, some serious bowel upset, losing my pants and vomiting, it had it all. And I love him for every second.


love
K

Public Speaking - My Passion

People that know me know that my absolute passion in life is public speaking. I LOVE it. I discovered my life's passion when I attended my very first Toastmasters meeting. If you've never heard of Toastmasters, it is quite simply the best, most cost affective way to learn public speaking and leadership skills hands down. I first heard about Toastmasters in "How to Win Friends and Influence People" which I read years ago. Back then I had zero self worth and nil self esteem so I couldn't bring myself to attend a meeting however the name always remained in my head. Many years and a failed marriage later when I had decided to make my life into what I wanted it to be rather than what circumstances had shaped it to be, I attended my first Toastmasters meeting. I remember walking up on stage and looking out at the small audience, maybe 8 people, I started to speak and I just knew, it felt like I belong on a stage speaking. Not singing, not dancing, but speaking from the heart.

I was extremely lucky to have an incredible mentor in my home club, Margaret, whom is still a close friend of mine today. She is wise and compassionate and tactful and she always knows the right thing to say. Early on I learned that in Toastmasters there is no greater achievement than to become World Champion of Public speaking, a competition that is held each year, usually in America, that hundreds of Toastmasters compete in "heats" to take part in. And that ladies and gentlemen, is my ultimate goal. To become World Champion of Public Speaking. Unfortunately I can't even get a sentence out now without becoming breathless, let alone a 5-7 minute speech so I have had to stop attending meetings however I fully intend to re-commence after transplant.

Toastmasters has done more for me than just teach me how to give a speech, it has helped develop my self confidence and self worth as well as given me the opportunity to learn and grow in ways that I would have never thought possible before. And the friendships I have made will be with me for the rest of my life as well. A couple of years ago I was honoured to be asked to give an evaluation of a speech given by the then head of Toastmasters International, a lovely gentleman named Gary. I gave this speech to the largest audience I had ever spoken in front of, around 300 people and I absolutely loved it! It is the highlight of my Toastmasters experience to date.

So if you are looking for a supportive, cost affective way to improve the way you communicate with people, I highly recommend Toastmasters as the way to do it. Perhaps you'll be there when I become World Champion of Public Speaking.

The Top Ten Ways I Know I'm a CF

1. I can swallow 30 tablets at once

2. I can fit into childrens clothes

3. The doctors ask me what antibiotics I would like this time

4. I can make up an iv antibiotic and deliver it to myself in my sleep

5. Every time I laugh really big, a huge coughing fit follows and I spew up my last meal

6. I get evil looks from old people for using a disabled parking space

7. I know which vein is good for getting blood out of

8. I walk at the pace of an 80 year old and so hunched over I can lick my knees

9. I start laughing hysterically when someone says they are sooooooo sick with a cold

10. I have tried all the weight gain supplements out there and hate them all

The Insidious Nature of CF

Something that has really struck me lately is the insidious nature of cf. I will be sitting at home, feeling fine, breathing ok and I will think to myself "Perhaps I don't really need a transplant, living like this is not so bad, maybe I was too hasty going on the list." Then approximately 2.3 seconds later I will have a massive coughing fit, vomit my last meal up and desperately grab for my oxygen, taking 10 minutes to breathe properley again. That's when I remember, "Oh yeah, this is why I'm on the transplant list." This disease affects every single part of your life, everything has to be altered in some way to accommodate this illness and not always in the obvious ways. Brad and I were talking last night about going on a day trip to Hervey Bay to see some friends. Ok so I'd have to take my portable oxygen cylinder and my tablets with me, done, right? Well not really, Hervey Bay is a 3 1/2 hour drive from Brisbane so as I'm expected to be at the hospital within 30 minutes of getting a call about lungs, I'd have to let the transplant co-ordinator know where I'll be. One oxygen cylinder won't be enough so I'll have to take two so that means I won't have enough for the rest of the fortnight so I'll have to order more. A big trip like that will really exhaust me so I'll sleep in the car and I get reflux if I don't sleep sitting up so I'll have to bring a pillow, it just never ends. Look, I know these aren't earth shatteringly huge things to cope with, but what I'm saying is to apply that bit of extra consideration and annoyance to every single aspect of a life. Its downright exhausting.

Far from being an isolating illness, cf also affects your family. I remember last year when my cf doctor told me that if I keep declining at the same rate I had been, I would only have 2 years left to live and I agreed to the referral to the transplant clinic; I decided to tell my immediate family when we were all together to save repeating it all over and over again. So we have a family tradition of taking a night time drive to the beach, buying fish & chips and eating them at a picnic table while enjoying the view and the breeze. Boy, do I know how to kill a buzz! We had all been happy and chatty then I gave them my news and instantly my dad started to cry and my sister started sobbing. Crikey, I had never thought that my sister thought much of me but she was sobbing like she was heart broken. My incredible mummy, whom has been to hell and back in her own life, sat there and started asking questions about what I needed them to do, when will the testing start etc. It was my little sister that really got to me; there is 11 years between us, she is only 25, and I had honestly thought that she wasn't a huge fan of mine, just a duty-bound "I love you" sister, but it turns out that she really loves me and was terrified at the thought of losing me. Wow.

So cf affects you, your family, your work, your friends, every part of your life, it sinks its insidious talons into. And it does this. Every. Single. Day.

love
K