The Overly Enthusiastic Gardener

Now, just so we’re perfectly clear about this – I don’t like gardening.

About six years ago, while making a few other earth-shattering decisions, we decided to sort out our yard/lawn/gardens. We’ve never been particularly keen on gardening (well, me anyway) – Denise likes growing vegies – but when you’ve got your own home there seems to be an expectation that you’ll establish and maintain gardens of some sort. Or is that just me and one of my twisted views of life?

Every place we’ve lived there’s always been a problem area somewhere in the garden, and over the years we’ve become pretty adept at ignoring them. But now, our problem area is right at the bottom of our back steps, so we needed to sort it out. 

The house we live in was built in 1911 and had a little shed in the garden, outside the “mud room”. This was the original laundry and was still standing (just) when we bought the place. Behind this is the “trap shed” – now Man Cave – and the area between was just an overgrown mess. We had a couple of half-hearted attempts to clean this up, but when we found a treasure trove of buried ceramics, crockery, glass and general rubbish we decided it was too hard, so we lived with it for a few years.

Then the shed collapsed.

What now??

Better get rid of the remains. All this did was expose more treasure, and opened up the whole mess so it was easier to see from the house.

Great!!

Time to get serious. It’s now 2013 and we’ve decided to sort all the gardens and lawns out once and for all.

  

How?

  

Hire someone to do it for us.

It's amazing how quickly you can make a mess with a little digger.

So, after a lot of “discussion”, mind-changing, wine, chocolate, and about five years, we ended up with…

Then cancer paid us a visit.

Right… Need to make plans, ‘cause we’re gonna be in Auckland for a few weeks and we won’t be wanting to worry about the gardens for awhile after that.

Let’s hire a gardener.

So, he turned up a couple of weeks before we had to go to Auckland and got stuck straight in. We were keeping an eye on what he was up to and everything was great. So, off we went to Auckland…

And came back to this…

Can you see the Orangeberries, and the Daffodils,
and the Thyme, and the Raspberries?

Weellll…. We laughed, and laughed, and laughed… so much!!!

And now the weeds are back.

Here’s a question for you? Should we start again? Or should we cement the whole area and make it into a little Italian style grotto?

Remember, I don’t like gardening.

No. We didn’t, and no we won’t, fire the gardener.

Ward 74 - Multiculturalism at it's finest.

As you wander along the corridors of ward 74 in Auckland hospital you notice lots of noticeboards hanging on the walls. A few of the noticeboards are used for in-house notices, KPIs and survey results, but others are used to display thank-you cards and letters. When I first saw these cards, I read a few, and they were all filled with the same sentiment: heartfelt thanks and appreciation for the care and consideration given to patients who had spent time in the ward. At the time, I thought: “that’s nice” and wandered off.

As issues unfolded, I came to spend something over three weeks in this ward, and as the days flowed, I was drawn back to these cards They hang on the walls, largely unnoticed as members of the staff go about their daily duties. Occasionally a visitor might pause and read one or two, in all likelihood, simply out of curiosity. But, over time, and because of my own experience, I came to realize that each of these cards represent a life-altering event for someone.

When each person came to the ward it would have been with a high degree of trepidation, a noticeable level of fear and some degree of confusion. During the process of diagnosis, surgery and recovery these feelings would diminish and be replaced with hope, understanding and an increasing level of well-being. And, upon discharge, like me, each person would be overcome with a sense of gratitude and thankfulness and be unable to adequately express these feelings to the staff when leaving.

Week after week I was cared for by a group of people comprised of medical and support staff while I walked a path to remove cancer from my body. Now that I’m home I can look back along this path and recognize that my journey would be impossible without the dedication and expertise of each and every individual member of the staff working in Ward 74.

Every morning I was greeted with one of the smiling faces of the ladies that brought me breakfast. I’m sure they didn’t realize the positive impact they had on me, but their grace and demeanour would always chase away the night’s shadows and, though I might not have been able to smile back on the outside I was definitely smiling on the inside.

I am in awe of the kind and considerate ladies that use this cart. Working quietly and unobtrusively in the background, going about their duties with a quiet dignity, offering a smile and a kind word as they pass. I was fortunate enough to get to know one of these ladies a little. Each morning she arrives at the hospital in darkness and prepares herself for a day of cleaning up the mess left behind by visitors, doctors and nurses, but most particularly, by patients. Her preference is to work nights, but she forgoes this and works through the day so she can get home to spend some time with her children. Without exception she approaches and competes each task with good humour and a brisk efficiency.

Because I was able to move about during the first two weeks of my stay, and because I was in a four-bed ward, I witnessed a lot of the interactions between patients and nurses. Without exception, every interaction was handled with consideration, respect and efficiency. Looking back, I now realise that each, and every, nurse has a fundamental, and largely unrecognised, need to care for other people embedded in their personalities. This basic need to care for others is now the cornerstone of the culture prevalent throughout this ward.

True Healing - Simply Listening

It’s one thing to foster a culture of care and attention for patients, but the diverse group of individuals – comprised of more than ten different ethnicities - that make up the nursing staff take this practice one step further. They apply the same levels of care, consideration, respect and cooperation to each other. Time after time I witnessed staff members helping other staff members, not only when attending patients, but also with the mundane. Whether changing a patient’s dressing or changing a bed; fetching an extra blanket for a patient or refilling a linen cupboard; restocking the dressing drawers or simply getting a paper bag to hang off a meal table – if there is a need, the person on the spot will simply do it. Moreover, there is always a smile and a kind word to go with it. These people are simply, amazing.

How do you thank people such as these?  

I don’t know.

But, one thing I do know: I will never take these people for granted – ever again. I simply feel humbled that I’ve been allowed a glimpse into their world and I will be eternally grateful for the professionalism, knowledge, friendship and care given to me during my time in Ward 74.

Cancer - You're outta here!!

So… Tuesday 12^th March. That date’s gonna stick. I thought I wouldn’t remember much about it, and I guess I don’t. I can remember the morning prep for the operation, I can remember the ride to the pre-op ward and I can remember moving over to the operating table. And now it’s Wednesday.

At stupid o’clock in the morning I wake up to pins and needles in my fingers and an intense pain at the back of my left heel. What the…?? Seems I’ve got a pressure sore. No biggie, but it’s getting all my attention. So a couple of young bucks in the ICU sort me out and I drift off for awhile. Not for long though. It seems I want to stop breathing and they don’t want me to, so we carry on a running battle with the oxygen tube for the rest of the night. I guess they won.

Now, I’m lying in bed with my head elevated and, even though the Surgeons have been playing with my right eye (which is now covered) I can still see from my left. What I’m looking at is the corner where the wall meets the ceiling, a small window that looks out to the building next door and that’s it. For whatever reason they have me facing into the room rather than out. From my perspective, they’ve got it wrong. I can hear and sense lots of activity behind me but can’t see anything. I’d much rather be looking the other way. I mean, it’s a nonsense really. I’ve just woken up from major surgery and the thing that’s bothering me more and more as the morning wears on is that I can’t see what’s happening behind me.

Get out of bed and stop lying about. It’s late morning and the ICU nurse starts making noises about getting me into a chair. As soon as I hear this I’m trying to get up and the ICU Nurse is trying to slow me down. Anyway, eventually we’re organised and here I am.

 

But wait!!

Bugger – I’m still facing the wrong way.

On the wall in the corner is a Phone/PA system that the nurses use for all sorts of reasons. I hear the receptionist broadcast that there are two visitors for Room 9 – Is it OK if they come in? Apparently, I start yelling at the phone telling her it’s OK and to send them in!

It must have worked ‘cause next thing Denise and Chelle pop in, and everything becomes right with the world.

Did you know there’s an upside to getting an infection in hospital? After a night in a High Dependency Ward with three other snorers, they gave me a single room.

YES!!

PAIN!! – What?? There’s no pain.

Seriously!  There is no pain. There’s a certain amount of discomfort, and the excretion of some very interesting bodily fluids from some unusual places, but honestly – very little to no pain. I guess they’ve got me on the good drugs. I know this won’t be everyone’s experience, but I’ve realised it was the expectation and anticipation of pain that had me worried. Throughout the next three days the worst “pain” I experienced was a Tramadol headache.

   

Who’s this dude??

This was taken on Saturday after Tuesday’s surgery.

So, here’s a question…

How impressed are you with the surgeons, doctors, nurses and all the support staff in Ward 74 at Auckland Hospital?

Want to know how impressed I am?

Watch this space.

 

 

I’m gonna publish this now – but there’s a lot more I want to tell you. Today’s Tuesday – seven days after the surgery.

I’m going home tomorrow.

Do you know, one of the things I’m really looking forward to…

Walking round the garden and feeling the grass under my feet.

Multiculturalism and Kindness walk hand-in-hand

And it's all uphill from here...

Hello lovely people,

Update coming in from Dads (self proclaimed) favourite child while Dad rests his weary head.

Dad spent the day laying about on his back and almost 12 hours to the minute we had a call from the hospital to let us know that he was out of theatre and awake.

We have yet to see the docs but by all accounts everything seems to have gone well. Dad is currently in ITU (as expected) hooked up to a few different drains and monitors. But, he has some pretty perfect looking numbers (I suggested he stop laying about and get ready for a run with his perfect obs but he didn't seem keen?) and most importantly his pain is under control.

His face is looking good and his arm and leg don't seem to be bothering him too much. We have left him to sleep and will be heading back up to speak to someone who knows whats happening at around 11am tomorrow.

I will leave the rest for Dad to update when he is feeling a bit more up to it (or for when he has provided instructions).

Thank you to everyone for your kind and loving messages, we have read them all to Dad and he knows that he is in your thoughts.

And until the next time, enjoy this little moment of love and kindness between Mum and Dad prior to surgery this morning  💓💓💓

Much love to you all,

Rochelle xx

The Night Before

It’s the night before surgery and lots pf people are asking: “How do you feel?”

Truth be told, I feel reasonably relaxed. I’m finding that every few minutes my thoughts change.

At the moment, I’m thinking about my family and wondering how I can express my love and gratitude for their support. I’ve never been particularly good at words and I’ve never openly thanked them verbally for all they continue to do for me. Maybe it’s just the way I’m put together. For some reason the words just won’t come. I remember at my daughter’s wedding – I walked her down the aisle and presented her to her future husband. All the way along that walk I was practicing what I wanted to say, not only to Adam, but, to my daughter as well. In the moment, I froze and stood there trying to get the words out, but I knew that if I opened my mouth, my emotions would just take over and I’d end up a blubbering mess, so I didn’t say anything. I’ve always regretted that.

Now again, I’m in a situation where I should be trying to express my thanks and gratitude to my family, because I think their pathway through this situation has been, as difficult, if not more so, than mine, and I think again, I haven’t helped to ease their concerns as much as I should. Maybe (hopefully) being able to read this will help them to understand how important and essential they are to me.

Without them, I would be nothing.

I know!!! When I started this blog, I said I was going to be better at replying to your comments. Well, that’s a fail. Thank you to all my friends, for your kind wishes, your love and support, your stories and your jokes. I’ve actually read them all, but I seem to continually be able to find excuses not to reply. I know it’s not good enough and I apologise. But be assured, they do mean a lot to me and I really, really hope you keep them coming. Maybe I’ll be able to make up for it during recovery, but this time, no promises.

Now this is what I mean about changing thoughts!!

The nurse has just been in and asked me how I’m feeling. I said I’m fine – apart from a slight headache – which is the truth. She then asked me how I was feeling about tomorrow? I told her: “I’m quite relaxed. After all, I’m going to be asleep. I won’t care what happens.” Which is also the truth.

I guess when I wake up in a couple of days I probably won’t be as blasé about how I feel but, my thinking at the moment is: “Whatever will be will be”. (Was that Doris Day?) It’s funny how some words stick in your mind. When I was talking to one of the ORL Nurses some time ago, she asked me how I felt. After I told her, she said to me that my attitude was the correct one to be taking into surgery. She went on to say that patients who have the best recovery are those that accept that the professionals they are dealing with know best. There will be bad days and good days during the recovery period and the thing that makes the bad days a little easier is believing that the medical staff know what they’re doing.

….. Looking forward to it!!

I’m gonna stop this now. I think I’ll watch Carrie Pilby. It’s a movie I quite like and hopefully it’ll be a good distraction. Heading off to make a cuppa first.

….. Bye for now.

A Glove's Life

Wow, what a rush!!

Here I am lying flat on a moving table. I can’t really tell, but if I go by the gloves on either side of me, I must be purple.

WHhhaaatttsss happening – I just got flipped, and now I can feel something soft underneath me.

OOOFfffff!! – something purple just landed on top of me. Now it’s all dark.

Oh! I get it. I’m a glove and I’m in a box.

Wonder what’s next?

Huh… whaaatt! The light’s changing. It’s been pitch black for so long. Now I can see light around the edges of a hole above me. Why am I leaning over? Oh, I get it. The box has been opened and they’re starting to use us. I must be in a hospital, judging by the voices and activity going on around here. I wonder what I’ll be used for when it’s my turn?

Maybe there’ll be an emergency and one of the nurses might use me to protect one of their hands.

Maybe I might just be used to keep a barrier between the nurse and patient while they change a dressing.

Maybe I might be used when a nurse is hooking up an IV line.

I hope one of the staff don’t use me when they’re changing a bed, or cleaning up a mess.

I really wouldn’t like it if I wasn’t used for something important. After all, that’s what I’ve been hanging around for. Hang on, the light’s getting brighter. I must be getting close to the top.

Woooyessss… my turn! Here comes the stretch!!

OOHhhhhh…. Ugh!!

Ahhh! Bugger. She dropped me.

Now I’m just lying on the floor. What the…?? All that time, preparation and lying about and she drops me. What a waste. I guess someone will pick me up later and throw me in the right bin for disposal. Pity I didn’t get to do anything. No contribution whatsoever.

So, it seems the nurse who dropped me has finished whatever she wanted me to help with and just buggered off, ‘cause she’s gone. I wonder when someone’s going to pick me up? Based on the conversations around me it must be Wednesday today. I’m pretty sure these wards are cleaned every day, so I guess I’ll be gone by tomorrow.  

So, I’m still here. It’s Thursday afternoon now. No one’s picked me up yet, so I’m Just hanging out. I thought I was a gone burger earlier. I saw a broom heading towards me, but it veered off before it reached me so, I guess maybe tomorrow I’ll be gone.

Man… Really!!! 

Here I am just lying around waiting to be cleaned up and what happens? Another glove comes tumbling down from above and almost lands on me. Luckily for me, whoever dropped it tried to catch it with their shoe. That didn’t work, but at least it stopped it landing on top of me.

  

Gotta say – this is getting old. It’s Saturday morning now, and it’s getting a bit crowded. Yeah, that’s right. There’s more of us now. This other dude arrived this morning. So now we’re a threesome. I wonder if today will be the day? Surely someone’s gonna notice and clean us up.

Yay!! Here she comes. I’m sure I’ll be able to catch this broom. Yep, we’re outta here!! Wonder where we’re going? I guess if we’d have actually been used for a higher purpose, we would have been disposed of properly and ended up in a hospital waste pile. Maybe even have made it to the incinerator. 

I’m pretty sure that’s not happening though. Because we’ve been swept up with a broom, we’re more than likely headed for a rubbish bin and eventually to landfill. What a waste. I didn’t get to help anybody, and now I’ll spend the next couple of hundred years wasting away somewhere. Hopefully I’ll be buried properly and not end up contaminating a waterway or being washed out to sea.

I guess time will tell.