Work At Long Last!

Published in 'Newslink', Headstart ABI Service; December, 2018

 In October, I responded to an ad for a ‘General Service Officer’ at a nearby Aged Care Facility. To my surprise, I was called that very afternoon and asked to come in for an interview! Shortly after, I was offered the position of Laundry Attendant. This has not been without its challenges, but already I am feeling a lot more confident with the job. 

 As it’s developed, my shifts loosely follow the same pattern:

From the Nurses, I have learnt the value of having a ‘hand-over’. I’ll clock in about fifteen minutes early, and be updated on where things are at. 'Wash these', I might be told, or 'deliver these trolleys’ of clothes’, which gives me a head-start on how the shift is to progress. Writing a few pages of key notes (‘hang these’ and ‘operate-like-so’) for quick reference has helped too. 

There is always a mound of personal linen to be sorted, which threw me in those first few weeks. But the alphabetical list of resident’s names made shortly after I started with their room number helps tremendously, as does composing a mental map of people and faces by delivering to them. ‘So-and-so?’ I’ll think. ‘Oh, he’s  in wing 2!’ and often look straight to the trolley.

I wrestled with those bothersome sheets and blankets at first! Then I was showed a neat way of folding those pesky fitted sheets and the handy-man told me about the '3rd Arm'. A tool used by the hospitality industry, it has a clamp and footswitch which allows you to fold linen sheets with minimal back-strain and zero ground-time. Haven’t looked back.

So for the first few hours of my shift I’ll alternate between washing, drying, folding and delivering, which will of course be guided by the hand-over. Then in the last hour I’ll set aside some time to focus on the cleaning routine. The lint filters must emptied, the soiled soiled linen trolleys must be cleaned (Residents’ can be quite care-free with corn-flakes), floors must be regularly swept and mopped, bins must be emptied and supplies need re-stocking. 

On a good day I’ll knock off maybe five minutes late. Sometimes I may stay back a little longer if I’m a bit behind, but there’s kind of an unspoken agreement there.  ‘You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours,’ I was told one day, and I get that. Can’t rest on my laurels just yet, mind you- still gotta pass the six-month probation- but they’re a good bunch to be working with, and I’m feeling optimistic about this...  

Nearer Than You Think

December, 2018

The sun peeked its golden rays through the surrounding gum-trees.

Tom leant back in his chair on the front patio setting his half-emptied glass of Kombucha on the ledge beside him. Sighing contentedly, he reflected on another productive Saturday. With his sister due to visit in a week, bringing with her the much-adored four-month year old infant daughter, he and his folks had made a point of tackling as many chores as they could. Mowing the lawn, doing the washing, cleaning the floors and bathrooms, heaping the yearly Spring mulch on the garden - mundane, true, yet ultimately satisfying.

But there was another, more wistful side to that sigh.  For some months now there had been a pretty blonde nurse regularly floating around the facility at the same time as Tom. Though from the outset he had been attracted to her, he’d at first held back, reasoning that ‘she’s not strictly my type’. In weeks of late this had all changed though, especially after one day he’d seen her quietly jiving about in front of the Nurses’ station. 

Finally he had made a resolution. ‘Next time I see her,’ he decided, ‘I’ll ask her out!’ Sure enough, there she was, the very next day.

‘So Molli,’ he said, catching her as his shift ended. ‘You wanna meet at the Pub tonight for a game of Trivia?’

 Mid-way through feeding someone sitting in a Princess-Chair, she squealed in delight.

‘Oh, I’d love that!’ Then she frowned. ‘Oh sorry- I can’t tonight. Got a new job up in Dungog, and I’ve got to finalise papers with the Real Estate.’

‘Oh,’ Tom said, disappointed. ‘Great career move though- when do you start?’

‘Monday,’ Molli replied, skilfully depositing another mouthful of mashed roast. 

‘Could I have a rain-check then? Tomorrow night instead?’

‘Of course! Find me on Facebook- it’s Molli MacBeth, with a ‘k’.’

Later that afternoon, Tom found his fancy and sent her a message. 'Still up for dinner tomorrow night? 

She replied shortly after.  Not sure, she wrote. Got a friend coming up for a visit over the weekend and I’ve still got plenty of packing left for the move.

 No skin off my back, he’d replied. We’ve plenty of time left yet and at least we’re talking. Good luck with the move!

She had not responded to that last message but it seemed wisest to let sleeping dogs lie.

            

Tom reflected on all this now, sipping on another few mouthfuls of Kombucha under his patio. His was a commanding view from where he sat, the front door being two-levels above the street. The view tapered off to down the street to the right down to where the local boat-ramp entered the Bay. Hammering could be heard from the Resident Carpenter’s workshop across the road; in a clump of weathered Eucalypts to the left, a pair of Kookaburras suddenly broke out into maniacal peals of laughter.

He lifted the dregs of Kombucha to his lips, remembering an old Zen story as he did so. ‘What’s the best way to practice?’ one disciple had asked. ‘Don’t cling; don’t seek,’ said his Master. So Tom closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, in and out, returning his focus to the constant sound of his breath imagining, as he often did, floating in a sea of thoughts but latching onto none.

Eventually the sounds around him faded into obscurity. You could say they became like background or white noise, the sort you might hear when you are at a party but just contentedly letting the surrounding conversation wash over you. A few moments later he heard a car pull up out the front of his address.

‘Hullo!’ Tom thought, opening his eyes. ‘Who’s this?’ He sat forward as the car’s driver stepped out and it was none other than that same pretty nurse.

 ‘Molli!’ he cried in surprise. ‘Didn’t expect to see you before you’d leave!’

 'Neither did I,’ she said, walking up the driveway. ‘But we did have a rain-check, and I wanted to see you before I left.’

'How did you find where I live?'

‘You spoke once about being out here,’ Molli replied. ‘And I do haf my vays,’ she added, adopting a mock-sinister accent.

Tom laughed. ‘Just think— if I hadn’t asked you out I’d never have known why you were leaving at all. You’d have just disappeared!’

‘I wouldn’t be so dramatic,’ Molli said, rolling her eyes. ‘Surely one of the other nurses would have explained and I’d have come back at some point— I’ve still got family here.’

‘That’s true,’ admitted Tom, feeling slightly abashed. Suddenly he had a flash off inspiration and reached down into the esky by his side. ‘Say, while you’re here— you wanna drink?’

Molli looked at him warily, but relaxed once she recognised the sincerity in his eyes. ‘Sure,’ she said, ‘why not? Let’s drink to the future!

The Washing Machine

Published in 'Newslink', Headstart ABI Service; December, 2017

 

This month I've decided to contribute one of the stories I have been writing for the North Arm Cove Writers. They're a good bunch and being involved with them has provided a good avenue to flex  the writer's muse, where each month we look at one aspect of writing and then are given a topic to work with. Back in April, we were presented with a list of objects and had to choose from that- mine was 'a washing machine'.

        It was an ancient washing machine, rusted and covered in dirt. Across the front was scribbled 'wash me!'- evidently some smart-arse's attempt at originality. A front loader, it's glass face allowed for it's contents to be monitored- mandatory since the Sards Wars of 2035 where hordes of tiny robotic killers had spewed out of innocent-looking machines and aided Karl's Robotic Army.

      Within, you could see masses of lint and fluff-balls in the water and oxygen valves. Where once it had stood on dainty little feet, it now sat awkwardly balanced on a plank of two-by-four. Evidently some needy individual had pinched those on one side, but had been thoughtful enough to leave some compensation. 

       Not so commonly known, however, was the function where if a certain button was pushed and the correct sequence of controls activated, the hidden motherboard would spring to life.  In all it's glory, it would then resurrect the machine in it's true identity: 'Washobot'.

 

Adelaide Adventures

Published in 'Newslink', Headstart ABI Service; October, 2017

 

 From September the 5^th I travelled to Adelaide for two weeks.

This began with a flight down to Melbourne to visit my sister and her partner. The five days spent with them were packed with activities. There was a meditation workshop, her regular Tuesday night Art class, a trip to the Botanic Gardens and a visit to Coombe Cottage- previously the Estate of Dame Nellie Melba. The scones there were excellent and the restaurant’s setting real cosy. 

Then I bunked at Melbourne Central YHA ready to rise bright and early for the the Overland train to Adelaide. 

By 7:30 I was up and waiting on the platform. Our departure was delayed due to track-work, but we soon regained what time we lost. The landscape was marked by sweeping fields of canola flowers, rolling hills and rugged terrain. The sudden appearance of ‘Stobie Poles’, an answer to the dearth of long and termite-resistant timber in SA, said we had truly left Victoria behind.

At Parklands station I met Mr and Mrs Paul and Dawn, dear old friends. Rewind eighteen years, and you’ll see two families happily hanging out together in Adelaide Hills. Return to the present day, and the sentiments remain the same.

For the first few days I hung out with Paul, Dawn and their daughter Lorinda. We visited the beach at Brighton, saw late artist Hans Heysen’s residence out at Hahndorf and most nights entertained ourselves with various movies such as Lars and the Real Girl and Top-Gear’s Polar Special.  A trip on the tram from Glenelg seemed customary, and come mid-week I was soon traipsing the Adelaide Markets, the War Memorial near Government House and visiting the Adelaide Museum. Lunch at Spaghetti Western seemed fitting too, particularly once I noticed a picture of John Wayne looking down at me all adorned in hanging pasta!

The last few days were out near Victor Harbor. Paul and Dawn’s middle son Steve lives there with his lovely wife and two charming children, so I spent the better part of three days visiting. As a Fireman, Steve works four days on, four days off so we managed to time my coming and going quite neatly. Laughter, music and plenty of good company- that’s what I recall best. 

My final Sunday went like a flash. My folks and I frequented a Baptist Church there years ago, so a visit seemed called for. Then I headed out to Clarence Park to meet for lunch with a girl whom I schooled with years ago. ‘What would you like?’ she asked. ‘Your choice,’ I said, and the resultant “experiment” was a Korean dish that proved to be a winner. 

So Adelaide, 2017? What a blast! Slightly dampened by the “funny throat” at the end, but that pales into insignificance when compared with the pros. Armed with pages of diary entries, dozens and dozens of photos and happy memories, who could ask for anything more?

 

My NDIS Journey- Take 4

Published in 'Newslink', Headstart ABI Service; June, 2017

An update my NDIS plan: 5 months after our request for a review, a phone call came from an embarrassed St Vincent’s worker. It turned out that the application had in fact been lost!

Though initially frustrating, my mother saw this was in fact for the best, as our goals have changed with 2017’s developments anyways. Shortly afterwards, the pair met face to face and their discussion highlighted the problems with the funding. Though support is needed, the plan must be more suited to my needs.

Fortunately however and from looking at my file, the St Vinnies worker could see that I have useful skills and attributes. Their talk then went on to mention possible work avenues, prospects which will certainly allow us to move further ahead. Watch this space…

Meanwhile, I continue to volunteer over at Peter Sinclair Gardens. Things have settled after the renovation work and the arrival of a new manager in June. Activities has picked up with regular visiting acts and June’s ‘Winter Festival’, which featured talented musos and a very clever magician. And I have been filling in for Tuesday’s absent ‘sing-a-long’ pianist, singing at Wednesday’s church services and assisting with activities like indoor bowls, word games and T’ai Chi.

Through all this, we’re learning that appropriate networks are crucial. And we must remain open to all avenues available to help us achieve our goals because sometimes, that detour may prove to be exactly where you needed to go.

Here We Go Again

Published in 'Newslink', Headstart ABI Service; March, 2017

In late 2016 I received my first NDIS plan. We weren’t happy at first as it didn’t help with the goals we had set, being living independently and having the finances to enable it, and learning the plan meant, “pay someone else to advise you!” was no help either.  So a review was requested. 

Through all this, discussions with Headstart (HS) and NDIS staff showed that we needed to sign a service agreement with HS. This will enable me to continue to access its services which have been so fantastic this past decade. 

Recently, I applied to volunteer over at Peter Sinclair Gardens (PSG). Though not wired to be a nurse, I still have other useful skills. Music is one; writing another; ‘useful-companionable-sort’ yet a third. Last year’s drama aside, staff at PSG remain welcoming; with the extension work nearly completed, more residents will arrive soon. As has been suggested, leisure and activities seems more for me.

As well, been teaching piano to a boy from Tea Gardens since July last year, a job I am enjoying and know a thing or three about! While the world of nursing is indeed needed and noble, let’s face it: it’s also not for everyone. As is often said- you gotta find your niche.

It’s never easy, rebuilding your life, and my heart goes out to all my compatriots out there. Yet take heart, friends- with the right support and advocates around you, the future can still be a brighter one.

Oh yeah- after three months, the review should come any week now…