The Engineer also Muses

Muchas Grassy Ass Amigo!

The wheels on the bus… May 30, 2008

Filed under: on me — Janek @ 20:42
Tags: ,

Bus stop, wet day, she’s there, I say,
“Please share my umbrella”.
Bus stop, bus goes, she stays, love grows
Under my umbrella

Don’t get any ideas about that song. It flicked through my mind when I drafted this blog entry, and so I decided to post it first off.

I caught the bus today. Two bus stops later, I got off.

“He’s mad,” you cry, “no one catches a bus for 2 bus stops!”

Well, I did. After it took me 20 minutes to walk from the corner of Missenden Road and Carillon Street up to Wentworth, not including the five minutes on the way there where I had to sit and wait to regain some strength, I decided to give up. I caught the bus back to pick up my CT Scan results, and then the bus from there to Newtown Station. I was almost glad to get onto an all-stations train, well aware of the extra trip length, purely because it gave me more time to regain my composure before I struggled the 500m to my car from the station, a walk that took some 15 minutes. I’m sitting at my desk now, exhausted, and with legs feeling like I’ve climbed Mt Everest.

Does anyone else detect a slight problem here?

My bedside is loaded, my bedside’s exploded
Hard to believe you can’t get what you’re dreamin’
If you try sometimes you might find you get what you steal

The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares
I don’t know what it means, but she’s got multi-coloured hair
When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches
And I’m not sure what that means either

I’ve also started on the Panadeine Forte, which included two hallucinations this morning. The first was fairly unexciting: someone walked into the room, smiled at me, and then walked out again. The second, though, was that a toaster oven (you know, those old things that look like a mini-grill, rather than a toaster) in the bedroom caught fire, and I knew I had to unplug it, but there were so many things plugged in, I didn’t know which plug it was, so I stood there, looking at it sparking and flaming away at me.

Why can’t hallucinations be of things like me being greeted by a hot naked man to whisk me away to my castle in the sky? WHY NOT?

 

The wheels on the bus… May 30, 2008

Filed under: on being unwell — Janek @ 20:42

Bus stop, wet day, she’s there, I say,
“Please share my umbrella”.
Bus stop, bus goes, she stays, love grows
Under my umbrella

Don’t get any ideas about that song. It flicked through my mind when I drafted this blog entry, and so I decided to post it first off.

I caught the bus today. Two bus stops later, I got off.

“He’s mad,” you cry, “no one catches a bus for 2 bus stops!”

Well, I did. After it took me 20 minutes to walk from the corner of Missenden Road and Carillon Street up to Wentworth, not including the five minutes on the way there where I had to sit and wait to regain some strength, I decided to give up. I caught the bus back to pick up my CT Scan results, and then the bus from there to Newtown Station. I was almost glad to get onto an all-stations train, well aware of the extra trip length, purely because it gave me more time to regain my composure before I struggled the 500m to my car from the station, a walk that took some 15 minutes. I’m sitting at my desk now, exhausted, and with legs feeling like I’ve climbed Mt Everest.

Does anyone else detect a slight problem here?

My bedside is loaded, my bedside’s exploded
Hard to believe you can’t get what you’re dreamin’
If you try sometimes you might find you get what you steal

The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares
I don’t know what it means, but she’s got multi-coloured hair
When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches
And I’m not sure what that means either

I’ve also started on the Panadeine Forte, which included two hallucinations this morning. The first was fairly unexciting: Dan walked into the room, smiled at me, and then walked out again. The second, though, was that a toaster oven (you know, those old things that look like a mini-grill, rather than a toaster) in the bedroom caught fire, and I knew I had to unplug it, but there were so many things plugged in, I didn’t know which plug it was, so I stood there, looking at it sparking and flaming away at me.

Why can’t hallucinations be of things like me being greeted by a hot naked man to whisk me away to my castle in the sky? WHY NOT?

 

The Opposite of Optimistic May 29, 2008

Filed under: on me — Janek @ 20:17
Tags: , ,

I read the news today oh, boy
About a lucky man who made the grade.
And, though the news was rather sad,
Well, I just had to laugh.
I saw the photograph.
He blew his mind out in a car.
He didn’t notice that the lights had changed.
A crowd of people stood and stared.
They’d seen his face before,
Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords

I feel like I’m falling apart. Today, on the train this morning, I suddenly felt overcome by how heavy my upper body was and that my legs couldn’t support me. I was leaning against the doors at the time, and the carriage wasn’t particularly full, so I slid down and sat where I had been standing, legs outstretched. This began a long day where my legs have been aching, or weak, or feeling like they’re powerless.

After arriving at University, and hobbling up to get my coffee, I was greeted by Not Very Good Tutor, who told me that I appear to have scared my tute class. NVGT said they were down there, avoiding their other work, purely to make sure that the ASSIGNMENT FROM HELL I will have to mark this weekend was going to be complete and correct. I mean, the kids are getting on my nerves a bit, but that doesn’t mean that I wanted them there, trembling in their boots. Oh well.

I am going to make it through this year,
If it kills me.
I am going to make it though this year,
If it kills me.

Not long thereafter, I shimmied down into the computer rooms for our TWO HOUR TUTORIAL FROM HELL (note, things seem to be stemming from hell, but my 2 hour tute has few saving graces. Oh, how I look forward to conducting 10 minute interviews with the students next week). My legs still not going so well, I shuffled around the room, sat down frequently, and spent a good portion of the lesson sitting at the back reading An Unsuitable Job For A Woman by P.D. James. The kids were amiable. Some showed concern for my health, which was touching.

I then went to see Dr Worried at the medical centre. I’ve dubbed her so because, when I talk, she has this very worried look all over her face. Talking of, what is the point of doctors starting off their consultation with “How are you?”. If I was well, I WOULDN’T BE HERE. Dr Worried, though, did have real concern for the fact that I have been taking so much Neurofen Plus of late (I didn’t mention the Tramal and Panadeine as well, though I should have), and was concerned about my legs suddenly losing strength. She suggested it could have been a faint, but that didn’t seem to hold water with why I was still shaky and weak, especially as my reflexes were fine and my strength seemed fine. I have been sent off for a CT scan tomorrow, told to go and see Dr Flower (so named because of his surname), and have had a blood test taken for a full blood count and to make sure I didn’t have, well, anything nasty. On top of this, I was prescribed Panadeine Forte for the pain, and a new drug to help me sleep at night. It was so overwhelming, when I walked out an hour later – or, should I say, staggered – I wandered mindlessly into the Pharmacy and got one of the scripts filled (the other I will have to wait until tomorrow to get). Then sort of staggered back down to my desk.


Time rolls
As days go by
And now I’ve figured
That I ain’t gonna last
Summer skies
Are leaving me behind


Coming home was a bit of an adventure. I’ve never known it to take me so long to get anywhere before. Nearly 15 minutes to Redfern, then I had to dash for the train. Then my legs kinda gave way from the 10 metre slightly-quicker-walking, so I sat back down right where I was standing on the train. Getting off at Haslam’s Creek, I was towards the back of the train, and by the time I made it out of the station, the train I was on had long departed, and I was going through the gate with the passengers of the following train (ok, it was on another platform, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t take me a long time still).

So, I’m currently seated in my nice new leather chair my parents bought for me as a graduation gift (They were so proud of me, apparently), with my legs aching like I’ve been for a 10 mile run (I’ve not moved in the past 2 hours), and my right arm kinda sore, and slightly depressing-sounding music playing. And I think to myself, well, I can be grateful my LEFT arm is ok!

To finish off with some good news… I don’t have any STIs. Yay.

 

The Opposite of Optimistic May 29, 2008

Filed under: on being unwell,on tutoring — Janek @ 20:17

I read the news today oh, boy
About a lucky man who made the grade.
And, though the news was rather sad,
Well, I just had to laugh.
I saw the photograph.
He blew his mind out in a car.
He didn’t notice that the lights had changed.
A crowd of people stood and stared.
They’d seen his face before,
Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords

I feel like I’m falling apart. Today, on the train this morning, I suddenly felt overcome by how heavy my upper body was and that my legs couldn’t support me. I was leaning against the doors at the time, and the carriage wasn’t particularly full, so I slid down and sat where I had been standing, legs outstretched. This began a long day where my legs have been aching, or weak, or feeling like they’re powerless.

After arriving at University, and hobbling up to get my coffee, I was greeted by Not Very Good Tutor, who told me that I appear to have scared my tute class. NVGT said they were down there, avoiding their other work, purely to make sure that the ASSIGNMENT FROM HELL I will have to mark this weekend was going to be complete and correct. I mean, the kids are getting on my nerves a bit, but that doesn’t mean that I wanted them there, trembling in their boots. Oh well.

I am going to make it through this year,
If it kills me.
I am going to make it though this year,
If it kills me.

Not long thereafter, I shimmied down into the computer rooms for our TWO HOUR TUTORIAL FROM HELL (note, things seem to be stemming from hell, but my 2 hour tute has few saving graces. Oh, how I look forward to conducting 10 minute interviews with the students next week). My legs still not going so well, I shuffled around the room, sat down frequently, and spent a good portion of the lesson sitting at the back reading An Unsuitable Job For A Woman by P.D. James. The kids were amiable. Some showed concern for my health, which was touching.

I then went to see Dr Worried at the medical centre. I’ve dubbed her so because, when I talk, she has this very worried look all over her face. Talking of, what is the point of doctors starting off their consultation with “How are you?”. If I was well, I WOULDN’T BE HERE. Dr Worried, though, did have real concern for the fact that I have been taking so much Neurofen Plus of late (I didn’t mention the Tramal and Panadeine as well, though I should have), and was concerned about my legs suddenly losing strength. She suggested it could have been a faint, but that didn’t seem to hold water with why I was still shaky and weak, especially as my reflexes were fine and my strength seemed fine. I have been sent off for a CT scan tomorrow, told to go and see Dr Flower (so named because of his surname), and have had a blood test taken for a full blood count and to make sure I didn’t have, well, anything nasty. On top of this, I was prescribed Panadeine Forte for the pain, and a new drug to help me sleep at night. It was so overwhelming, when I walked out an hour later – or, should I say, staggered – I wandered mindlessly into the Pharmacy and got one of the scripts filled (the other I will have to wait until tomorrow to get). Then sort of staggered back down to my desk.

Time rolls
As days go by
And now I’ve figured
That I ain’t gonna last
Summer skies
Are leaving me behind 


Coming home was a bit of an adventure. I’ve never known it to take me so long to get anywhere before. Nearly 15 minutes to Redfern, then I had to dash for the train. Then my legs kinda gave way from the 10 metre slightly-quicker-walking, so I sat back down right where I was standing on the train. Getting off at Haslam’s Creek, I was towards the back of the train, and by the time I made it out of the station, the train I was on had long departed, and I was going through the gate with the passengers of the following train (ok, it was on another platform, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t take me a long time still).

So, I’m currently seated in my nice new leather chair my parents bought for me as a graduation gift (They were so proud of me, apparently), with my legs aching like I’ve been for a 10 mile run (I’ve not moved in the past 2 hours), and my right arm kinda sore, and slightly depressing-sounding music playing. And I think to myself, well, I can be grateful my LEFT arm is ok!

To finish off with some good news… I don’t have any STIs. Yay.

 

6 months and counting… May 28, 2008

Filed under: on me — Janek @ 10:58
Tags:

Today, my livejournal turns 6 months old. There are 97 posts including this one (you can’t see all of them, obviously, some are for my eyes only). There’s not much else to say. I’ll do a year-in-review in November.

Whilst on the topic of my livejournal, though, I wanted to remember why I started it. I blame Ron. He told me to start a livejournal. So I did. And that brings us to this point, 6 months and 97 posts later.

On that note, I leave you with this:

 

6 months and counting… May 28, 2008

Filed under: on my history — Janek @ 10:58

Today, my livejournal turns 6 months old. There are 97 posts including this one (you can’t see all of them, obviously, some are for my eyes only). There’s not much else to say. I’ll do a year-in-review in November.

Whilst on the topic of my livejournal, though, I wanted to remember why I started it. I blame Ron. He told me to start a livejournal. So I did. And that brings us to this point, 6 months and 97 posts later.

On that note, I leave you with this:

 

Life goes on May 28, 2008

Filed under: on me — Janek @ 10:33
Tags: , , , ,

I went back to see the physio yesterday, who told me that the problem with my arm seems to stem from irritated nerves in my neck, not my elbow. The only way to really “fix” this is maintaining a good posture, not getting stressed, seeing her and having her manipulate my neck to relax the muscles, and taking pain killers. I’ve been on a variety combination of pain relief lately, taking daily:

  • 6-8 Neurofen Plus;
  • 2-4 Panadeine;
  • 50mg Tramal; and,
  • 1 Restavit (to help me sleep).

I’m feeling scattered, my mood is fluctuating, and the pain is still there. I’m going back to the doctor tomorrow to see if she can suggest something else. At least the codeine isn’t making me too constipated, yet, but my liver and kidneys may not like me soon.

I was greeted, when I got home last night, by my father. I find my father irritating at the best of times. Last night was no exception. Apparently, the reason I have this is because I am totally unfit, I never do anything, I should be playing sport, I never do anything, I’m a computer nerd, I never do anything, I’m burning the candle at both ends, I never do anything. Did I mention that I never do anything? When my father gets like this, my communication skills turn into a series of grunts. He left, and I stormed around the house alone for a while.

When my mother made it home, she made a series of excuses for why my father is like that. Unfortunately, this was at the same time that I was considering giving the “I want to move out” talk, but decided against it because she would immediately come to the conclusion that it was because of my father I wanted to move out, which it partially is, but not entirely.

This morning, fluffing around as I usually do on the internet, I came across this. I noticed I’m apparently in the correct career path:

 

Life goes on May 28, 2008

Filed under: on being unwell,on my family,on my history — Janek @ 10:33

I went back to see the physio yesterday, who told me that the problem with my arm seems to stem from irritated nerves in my neck, not my elbow. The only way to really “fix” this is maintaining a good posture, not getting stressed, seeing her and having her manipulate my neck to relax the muscles, and taking pain killers. I’ve been on a variety combination of pain relief lately, taking daily:

  • 6-8 Neurofen Plus; 
  • 2-4 Panadeine;
  • 50mg Tramal; and,
  • 1 Restavit (to help me sleep).

I’m feeling scattered, my mood is fluctuating, and the pain is still there. I’m going back to the doctor tomorrow to see if she can suggest something else. At least the codeine isn’t making me too constipated, yet, but my liver and kidneys may not like me soon.

I was greeted, when I got home last night, by my father. I find my father irritating at the best of times. Last night was no exception. Apparently, the reason I have this is because I am totally unfit, I never do anything, I should be playing sport, I never do anything, I’m a computer nerd, I never do anything, I’m burning the candle at both ends, I never do anything. Did I mention that I never do anything? When my father gets like this, my communication skills turn into a series of grunts. He left, and I stormed around the house alone for a while.

When my mother made it home, she made a series of excuses for why my father is like that. Unfortunately, this was at the same time that I was considering giving the “I want to move out” talk, but decided against it because she would immediately come to the conclusion that it was because of my father I wanted to move out, which it partially is, but not entirely.

This morning, fluffing around as I usually do on the internet, I came across this. I noticed I’m apparently in the correct career path:

 

Poppie at 95 May 28, 2008

Filed under: on me — Janek @ 10:00
Tags:

Today marks my grandfather’s 95th birthday. William Frederick – also known as Bill, Boo, or, to me, Poppie – was born on May 28, 1913, in West Wylong, the eldest of four sons of Newton (Nat) and Mary. He is the last of this family of six left, his youngest brother Athol passing away at the beginning of the year.

One of my greatest regrets in life is that I didn’t ever like to pay attention to the stories Poppie told me as a small child. The occasion of his 85th birthday marked a turning point as he began to slip into the grips of Senile Dementia (which seems so much more apt than Alzheimer’s). I’ve seen Poppie once in the past year, by which I mean I have seen the shell of my grandfather; what is left of a great man.

I spent last night reading what he recorded in 1998 as the family history of his lineage on his father’s side. Unfortunately, it’s a brief text, only 7000 words, and it doesn’t have all of the stories, the excitement, and the tragedy that Poppie has seen in the past years. I score a brief mention in what could best be described as a footnote, an afterthought, of what happened to his two daughters, my mother and aunt. But, that wasn’t why I was reading it. I try not to be totally self-absorbed sometimes.

Notably missing from his history is his long involvement with the Australian Pensioners, seeing him travel to Barcelona for an international conference in 1992 and his award of an OAM for services to pensioners. I’ve found several mentions to him in the Hansard of the New South Wales Parliament. He was also instrumental in establishment of the Waterfront Clerk’s Union; took part in the “Green Bans” of the 60s and 70s which saved The Rocks; went fossicking for gold in Tennant Creek in the 30s with his brother Jack and Father Nat; and was a skilled labourer, having worked on many stations (Cattle and sheep, not railway) as he travelled around Australia.

He lost his mother at the age of 18, having just completed schooling at Shore (travelling from Picton every day, which, for those of you who don’t know, is on the other side of Campbelltown (Rough Map). The Depression hit at the same time, and he was never educated at University. He tried to enlist in the Second World War, but had a heart murmur and only one kidney (the other having been removed by operation in his youth). His brothers Darryl and Jack were both killed during the war: Darryl (Lieutenant 2nd/19th Battalion) in the siege of Singapore in 1942; Jack (Lieutenant 2nd/27th Battalion) at El Alamein later the same year. His father, Nat, died on my Poppie’s 42nd Birthday without any estate. Athol, as I have already mentioned, died earlier this year. Poppie doesn’t know.

Poppie was married before he met my grandmother (Grandma), to Ila Stanislaus Isabella. She had two children from a previous marriage, Leita (whom I have met before), and Russell. Poppie and Ila had a son, my half-uncle, who has two sons of his own, D and A. A is the only member of my family whom I think has ever come close to being gay, a fact squashed out of him before it could be discussed in hushed tones at family gatherings. He’s currently living in Ulladulla, purportedly with his girlfriend.

There was, as I say, so much more to this man, but most of his memoirs, if I could be permitted to call them that, detail the one time in his life when I think he was happiest: As he travelled to and from Tennant Creek, and fossicking there.

I miss him, I wish I’d listened, and I don’t know if I can ever go back and see him again in hospital.

 

Poppie at 95 May 28, 2008

Filed under: on my family,on my history — Janek @ 10:00

Today marks my grandfather’s 95th birthday. William Frederick – also known as Bill, Boo, or, to me, Poppie – was born on May 28, 1913, in West Wylong, the eldest of four sons of Newton (Nat) and Mary. He is the last of this family of six left, his youngest brother Athol passing away at the beginning of the year.

One of my greatest regrets in life is that I didn’t ever like to pay attention to the stories Poppie told me as a small child. The occasion of his 85th birthday marked a turning point as he began to slip into the grips of Senile Dementia (which seems so much more apt than Alzheimer’s). I’ve seen Poppie once in the past year, by which I mean I have seen the shell of my grandfather; what is left of a great man.

I spent last night reading what he recorded in 1998 as the family history of his lineage on his father’s side. Unfortunately, it’s a brief text, only 7000 words, and it doesn’t have all of the stories, the excitement, and the tragedy that Poppie has seen in the past years. I score a brief mention in what could best be described as a footnote, an afterthought, of what happened to his two daughters, my mother and aunt. But, that wasn’t why I was reading it. I try not to be totally self-absorbed sometimes.

Notably missing from his history is his long involvement with the Australian Pensioners, seeing him travel to Barcelona for an international conference in 1992 and his award of an OAM for services to pensioners. I’ve found several mentions to him in the Hansard of the New South Wales Parliament. He was also instrumental in establishment of the Waterfront Clerk’s Union; took part in the “Green Bans” of the 60s and 70s which saved The Rocks; went fossicking for gold in Tennant Creek in the 30s with his brother Jack and Father Nat; and was a skilled labourer, having worked on many stations (Cattle and sheep, not railway) as he travelled around Australia.

He lost his mother at the age of 18, having just completed schooling at Shore (travelling from Picton every day, which, for those of you who don’t know, is on the other side of Campbelltown (Rough Map). The Depression hit at the same time, and he was never educated at University. He tried to enlist in the Second World War, but had a heart murmur and only one kidney (the other having been removed by operation in his youth). His brothers Darryl and Jack were both killed during the war: Darryl (Lieutenant 2nd/19th Battalion) in the siege of Singapore in 1942; Jack (Lieutenant 2nd/27th Battalion) at El Alamein later the same year. His father, Nat, died on my Poppie’s 42nd Birthday without any estate. Athol, as I have already mentioned, died earlier this year. Poppie doesn’t know.

Poppie was married before he met my grandmother (Grandma), to Ila Stanislaus Isabella. She had two children from a previous marriage, Leita (whom I have met before), and Russell. Poppie and Ila had a son, my half-uncle, who has two sons of his own, D and A. A is the only member of my family whom I think has ever come close to being gay, a fact squashed out of him before it could be discussed in hushed tones at family gatherings. He’s currently living in Ulladulla, purportedly with his girlfriend.

There was, as I say, so much more to this man, but most of his memoirs, if I could be permitted to call them that, detail the one time in his life when I think he was happiest: As he travelled to and from Tennant Creek, and fossicking there.

I miss him, I wish I’d listened, and I don’t know if I can ever go back and see him again in hospital.