Carmina Burana

Like many kids not really exposed to classical music early on in life, when I heard the Carmina Burana for the first time, the back of my head was blown off.

I have since had an enduring love, and see live performances whenever I can.

This weekend, Mark is performing it with a bunch of community choirs (about 400 people) at Sydney Town Hall, with all proceeds to benefit the Children’s Hospital at Westmead.

I’m still sick (11 days now), and if I don’t improve radically by Saturday I won’t be going either, but I wish I could. The Sydney Town Hall is a beautiful venue, and apparently they will be using the spectacular organ on the night.

Breastfeeding Guilt

For years I have been sick to death of being told that I shouldn’t provide breastfeeding education because it “makes women who can’t breastfeed feel guilty”.

Finally, a fairly mainstream parenting expert has come out with a response to this rubbish that is a lot more articulate than me quoting Eleanor Roosevelt (“Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent”) and my vague half formed rants about denying women information about an important health issue is patronising and ridiculous.

Thank you Pinky McKay!

Happy Mothers Day

Today is my second mothers day after losing my twins, and the first that I have felt relatively sane since then. I awoke to the sad, but not entirely unexpected news that the mother of one of my close friends had passed away in the night.

Marie was diagnosed with a brain tumour last year. She had surgery which couldn’t remove it all, then chemo. Six weeks ago we saw her and she was going really well. Last week Pete rang me to say she was going downhill, and to come and visit soon. Of course, last week Inigo was the focus, and we didn’t get up the coast to see Marie.

Yesterday, on our way in to the marriage equality rally, Peter rang. Marie’s condition had deteriorated markedly, and if we wanted to see her, we had to move quickly.

Mum and Dad took Inigo, and Mark and I called friends to let them know we wouldn’t be at the rally. We went to see Marie and her family, and I was able to say goodbye and tell her how I felt about her. She was in a coma, but I want to believe she knows how much she meant to me.

Peter and I were friends in high school. I think he is one of two people from that high school of over 1000 kids that I still have any contact with. His mum was always so kind, and giving, and thoughtful to me, and since marrying and having Inigo, to Mark and Inigo too.

Marie left her family and community to travel the world, and built a new family in Australia. She was a mother of four children, two of whom died before her. How she survived the loss of two adult children and remained graceful, gentle, loving and kind is completely beyond me.

Of all days to lose her, Mothers Day seems especially hard.

Squish goes Splat! Part two…

The hospital has a handy little card that they give to parents of kids with head injuries – symptoms to look out for in the 24-48 hours after the accident.

This morning, he was fine, but this afternoon, he was complaining of a severe headache, nausea, and sleepiness. three of the symptoms they want you to watch for. He also had a fever.

I rang health direct, who told me to take him back to emergency straight away.

So we spent another 4 hours at Hornsby Hospital casualty, he had a much more thorough neurological assessment, (and a urine test to rule out another bladder infection), and we were sent home. I’m confident that he doesn’t have any brain damage, but possibly concussion combined with a virus which is causing the nausea and fever.

We’re home now, he’s asleep, and I’m looking forward to a good long time before we have to reset the “Days Since Squish has Been in Hospital” counter.

And I got the results for my mid semester exam today, a Distinction, so I am very relieved!

Hospital update

So I was supposed to go in for a checkup and histopathology reports on Friday, but I have this damn essay to do and I forgot. I rescheduled for today, and yup, I forgot again.

Tonight I had a phone call from the lovely woman in EPAC (Emergency Pregnancy Assessment Clinic). Apparently my histopathology was all fine, she checked that my symptoms were all within normal limits, and informed me of what to expect in the coming months, and what to do if it doesn’t happen (i.e., have a normal period).

Then she told me that there was no need to come in, saving me another trip to that dreadful place. I thanked her profusely, and asked her if she remembered me from 2010. She did, and she knew that Archimedes had died, even though I hadn’t told her – clearly the hospital grapevine is working. Of all the people I met during those months, hers is a face I remember as being always a positive, smiling and caring one. I took the opportunity to tell her what her work had meant to me all those months ago, and we both had a little cry.

I also told her about some of the awful stuff that happened, and she encouraged me to put it in writing to the hospital, in the hope that other women don’t have to suffer through the same crap. It must be an immensely difficult place to work, giving people bad news so often, I hope it gave her some joy to know that the bad news is better coming from someone who really does seem to care.

She could teach a few health professionals a thing or two 😉

So I should be working on my essay…

But I checked my email, and there is an offer for a brother sewing machine for $149. Which seems quite good. THe problem is, I haven’t actually determined whether my current machine is actually dead, or just sick. So any idle thoughts of buying a new machine are purely speculative, but I thought I’d just see if I could find a review.

No review so far, but I did find that the machine normally sells for about $250, so it does seem like a good price.

And then I stumbled upon a review of another machine that looked intriguing – an Ikea sewing machine for less than $100!

So at least if I do determine that my machine is permanently dead, I can get a cheapie that seems reasonable to tide me through until I have $2k to spend on the machine of my dreams, that does little embroidered sheep.

The short version

I am ok.

It was horrible.

There was a huge gush of blood and I thought I was going to die. Nobody warned me about blood.

I didn’t die.

It took five hours of waiting before I had surgery.

Everyone was really nice.

The operating theatre looked exactly like the one where I had Archie and Aubrey.

The recovery bed where I woke up afterwards was EXACTLY the same as where I was after having the twins.

I lost it, and cried and cried and cried.

I felt much better after three doses of painkillers.

I got home at 8pm, and hugged my beautiful Inigo, thanked Andrew and my parents for looking after him, ate wonderful food prepared by Bonnie and Zenia, and went to sleep.

This morning Mark took Inigo out, and I thought I would start my essay (due monday week), but instead I enjoyed my day and did some reading.

Had a nice dinner and a glass of something tasty, and life is looking much more reasonable tonight.