Archive | August, 2009


26 Aug

This post might cross the ‘too much information’ line. Stop reading when you have reached your limit…

I apologise that I have been slack recently . I haven’t been replying to messages, emails or writing any letters in the last week. I have a confession to make… I’ve been cheating on you all with a urologist.
Yes, they are the people that you talk to about issues with your “waterworks”. The truth is that I’ve had “drainage” problems for about two months and I don’t really tell many people because, as you can imagine, it’s pretty strange to bring up. And the worst part is that none of the docs or specialists I’ve seen can come up with any good reason why I should have this problem!

I won’t go into too many details. More information about it can be found here if you are curious.

So anyway, the problem became pretty bad about 2 weeks ago and I saw an extremely overpriced doctor (with the waiting room from hell) to get a referral to one of only 3 uro’s in Hobart for which I am not covered by my health insurance.$$$.
Because it was sort of an emergency he was able to make time to see me straight away and at my appointment… the inevitable – I needed to go to hospital. Waaa and $$$$$

I actually knew that this was coming and I don’t think I did myself any favours by putting the uro visit off as long as I did. So after all of my thorough questioning and bargaining, I still ended up needing to be admitted to hospital for a day procedure requiring a general anesthetic. Absolutely no way out of that.

I can’t really explain why I feel so nervous about the whole thing. Maybe because I had a bad experience with my wisdom tooth extraction, maybe because I don’t like the idea of having things done to me while I’m not conscious, maybe because of the fasting or maybe because of the potential side effects, not to mention the pain. I think, honestly it’s a mixture of all of these things. But it consumed me.

I couldn’t sleep, I’d have crazy visions of absolutely everything going wrong. I started practicing going for a period of time without drinking anything and then just focused on how much I hated it. I was stressed.
The night before my 7am hospital admission was chaos!

**Just so we get things straight – I’m not trying to use this blog as an outlet for my wining and grumbling, this is actually how it happened:

I ate dinner at 7:30 pm. I didn’t have to start fasting until midnight but I thought I would try to minimise my fluid intake anyway and only eat something else if I really wanted to. Bob and I decided to call it a night just after 9 to prepare for tomorrow’s early start. I didn’t feel tired so I just lay in bed, trying not to swallow saliva too much and trying not to think about stuff that could go wrong. Bob fell asleep.

I realised that Dusty was in the room. I got out of bed and put her out. In the process I inhaled a cat hair which became uncomfortably lodged in my throat. Drrrr.
I went back to bed. I felt tired. Sleep was so inviting. I realised that if I didn’t at least try to do something about the hair I would regret it tomorrow so reluctantly, I got up. I ate some toast with honey even though I wasn’t hungry and I drank some water even though I was about to go to bed. It didn’t work. At least I tried. I decided to stay up and about until I actually felt tired enough to sleep to avoid tossing and turning in bed.

I finally slept at around 11… for about 3 hours before waking up to wee again. As I was drifting back to sleep, I could hear Dusty doing something that sounded naughty. I wanted to just pretend I never heard it but the noise continued. I got up. I never found out what she was up to. By the time I found her she had finished her mischievous behaviour and was looking nice and innocent.

Back to bed, want to sleep but can’t. Want to drink but can’t. Want to stop thinking but can’t. This went  on for about 30 mins before I needed to go to the toilet (my sleeping has been effected since I’ve had trouble emptying my bladder). Then again finally sleep.
I was woken up by my bladder at 5. I resisted getting up. I drifted in and out of sleep for about half an hour. I thought it would just be easier to wait until the alarm goes off at 6 but I couldn’t wait.

I had a mere 5 minutes sleep before the alarm went off for me to get up. I got up and Bob drove me to the hospital.

I was nervous but feeling good. My ward was a penthouse! Probably the best bed in Calvary! My nurse was really nice too. Bob and I hung around for an hour before I was called down to theatre. I changed into my gown and high pressure stockings and was transported by Steve the Irish orderly. The first nurse I met asked me my name, date of birth, the procedure I was having done and the name of my doctor.  The second nurse that I met asked me the same 4 questions then wheeled me into the theatre. I was then bombarded with people.

The uro said hello, one nusre was taking my blood pressure, another was sticking heart monitors on my chest, another one asked me the same 4 questions again! The anethetist put a needle in my arm and was talking to her intern about the low dosage of local anesthetic initially. There were at least 3 other people in there that I never met or spoke to. Then tingling, then the lights went out.

I woke up recovery and felt good, really good, so good that I asked the nurse if I had been given any hardcore pain killers or feel good drugs. I hadn’t. I just felt awesome. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t in pain from the procedure but all things considered, it was no way near as bad as I had imagined. I asked the nurse if I could sit up, she said no. I asked the nurse if I could have a drink, she said no. I asked the nurse if I could go to my room and guess what the answer was… No.

I had to wait in recovery so they could monitor my blood pressure and heart rate. I didn’t mind all that much. I couldn’t get the grin off my face because I just felt so good. After about half an hour they called the nurse from my ward and she came down to get me. She gave me some water and a muffin. I don’t remember hospital food being this good.

Then I had to do a number 1 if you know what I mean. They had given me a litre of fluid during the procedure so I felt like I was about to burst. Indescribable pain. Pain that is just so wrong… but still not quite as bad as I had imagined. Bob arrived. I still had another two hours wait to see the uro once he’d finished in theatre. My ward filled up with people coming in for afternoon procedures but I still had the best view in the house.

The uro arrived to tell me that he doesn’t need to have an appointment with me for 8 weeks and that I should be totally fine. Wooo. Time to go home. I spent the afternoon with Dusty on the couch eating maltesers and reading green magazine until it was too dark to see. Bob made me a yummy dinner and I drank as much fluid as I could to reduce the pain.

I’m not allowed to drive anywhere today so I’m just vegging out at home trying not to do too much. My throat is sore from the anesthetic and the cat hair is still in there – but I reckon I will feel totally better tomorrow.


Occupation: Unemployed

19 Aug

This is my fourth week without a job. It hasn’t really been long enough for me to fully experience the greatness that is unemployment. Luckily I’ve got a few more weeks to go yet. I’ve really settled into being unemployed. I love it. The other day I had to fill out my occupation on a form and I took great pleasure in writing that I was unemployed. It’s handy that I have a husband with a job, I’m not sure how I would feel otherwise. There are lots of people out there whose lives would not be as lovely as mine if they didn’t have a job.

But now that I am without a job I’m having this dilemma fueled by guilt and conflict. Firstly guilt: Bob works full time, long hours in a job that is high stress – and I can stay in my pyjamas all day surfing the net if I want to. Bob is loving, supportive and non-judgemental about my situation and as a result, he doesn’t hassle me if I want to do nothing…

Trust is more powerful than control – remind me to talk about this more another time…

So he trusts me to just do what ever I want and then I feel like I have to do the ‘right’ thing. I recognise that I am placing this expectation on myself. Luckily I enjoy doing the ‘right’ thing about as much as I enjoy bludging so that’s not too bad but then…. conflict,

in myself.

I start making conscious choices to do the right thing and then I realise…. “I’m a house wife”. What a horrible thought. I do the washing and the dishes and make lunch for Bob. I do odd jobs around the house during the day, plan dinner, fill up the car with petrol and do the groceries…. and I enjoy it! To me, those jobs are an ideal trade-off for not having to work, it makes perfect sense to me but when I think about it I wonder what happened to the fiery, passionate go-getter that once was Naomi Goodlet. I think she may have a plan.

Is this what marriage does to you? Is it OK for me to just sponge off Bob and live like this? Obviously I’m still coming to terms with the fact that marriage means ‘what’s mine is yours’ and all that crap. Obviously I have issues around deserving goodness in my life or whatever…. anyway:

Somedays I turn the guilt into power and I started doing productive things like painting and gardening and I’m just so thankful for the opportunity to spend time doing this stuff without having to go off to some job that I hate. Other days the guilt gets the better of me and I start applying for jobs… and now I’ve been offered one. Thankfully I start in about 5 weeks, I’m glad it’s not any sooner. I am excited about it and could definitely do with the income but I feel strangely sad about letting go of my free lifestyle.

It’s made me realise how shit my life was when I was working full time and how much stuff I missed out on. I had to squeeze my life around all the time that I was working and then if I wanted to actually enjoy myself, I’d end up too tired for work. I really want to be in a job that I love, I know that it’s possible and what a difference it will make to my life.

I’ve actually enjoyed being a loner since we’ve moved. Having no social life means having extra time to do so many things. For once I feel like I am allowing myself to do things that I truly value and enjoy as opposed to having a massive mental list of things I want to do and never get around to. That’s not to say that friends and family aren’t important and aren’t special to me. One of the things I’ve enjoyed the most since being here is communicating with friends through the post and email. Writing your thoughts is very different to speaking them and sometimes it’s almost like you get better ‘quality time’ with someone when you indulge in reading a long letter about things that they think and stuff they’ve been doing. The conversation doesn’t get interrupted or sidetracked, it truly is a beautiful way to share.

So, what are you waiting for?! Send a letter to 83 Honeywood Drive, Honeywood 7017, TAS

I’ll report back on how I go with the job, but for now maybe I’ll have to come to terms with the whole house wife thing.


11 Aug

Here’s some videos that I took recently:

Driving onto the Spirit of Tasmania

Departing Port Melbourne

Dusty has her mouse stolen by a magpie

The Move

6 Aug

It was like this…

Some guys came and packed up all of our stuff then the next day they packed it all into a big shipping container and took it away.
I got really sick. Bob and I stayed with Georgia when we had no furniture. She’s great.

I had my last day at work. I was so sick.
Pizzy came home. I was so sick.

I had been up all night coughing and the alarm went off at 5am for us to get up and drive to Melbourne. I cried. If I didn’t drive it meant I had to leave my car here and pay for it to be shipped to Hobart. I got up and I drove… 800kms. It was a drug and sugar powered effort. It was painful.
I’m so glad I did it.

We got on the boat – it was rough. I got anxious. It was seriously uncool. At about 2am I relaxed enough to sleep. I slept sideways across two beds and a table. Lying the normal way on the bed made the rocking really bad. Poor Bob stayed up and looked after me.
At 6am the boat arrived and we drove off, through quarantine and out onto the highway.

I bought an apple. It was the greatest thing imaginable. I felt better.
We drove down to Hobart and opened up our new home. We set up camp in one of the smaller rooms, now Bob’s office. It was Bob’s birthday. He opened his presents and we went out for dinner. It was fantastic – but I was tired and still sick. The next day we explored Hobart, visited Nigel, Mel & Lucas and managed to find lots of things we needed without a phone book or the internet – just by looking!!

The next day our furniture arrived. We directed the removalists to put things here and there, then we frantically unpacked the kitchen. That night we cooked dinner.

On Thursday Nigel brought Lucas to visit and I met our neighbour, Lyle (! How funny! – if you understand why it’s hilarious to have a neighbour called Lyle you have good taste in movies). Then after that…. unpacking.

We’ve been out and about getting bits and pieces that we need. I discovered the Newtown Greenstore which is my new favourite place! (But I’m going to the organic warehouse tomorrow so I might get a new favourite).

On Saturday Mel gave us her old TV. It’s really small and it gets 3 channels. Bob and I stayed up all night watching the Michael Jackson special on Rage.

I applied for two jobs – just casual ones – just to try my luck. I’ve been offered interviews for both of them next week. I’m not sure what I’m going to do if I have to choose between them.

Yesterday Bob and I picked up Dusty from the airport. She was scared and stressed in her little cage. When we got into the house she was freaked. She did laps of all of the rooms for a solid hour – finding her place, sniffing everything. Then she looked out all of the windows again and again. I set up her fluffy bed in our bedroom next to the window so she could look out. She finally relaxed and slept solidly for about 5 hours… and then jumped on my head while I slept. I could tell she was feeling at home.

Today I did things for myself like dying my hair and baking cookies. I didn’t drive anywhere. I didn’t spend any money. I stood outside in the warm wind and tried to look at the thing that was furthest away. I spoke to my Dad.

Tonight I put adverts on a few house sitting websites to try and find someone to look after Dusty while we are away in September. I hope I find someone nice.

Bob is away in Brisbane until tomorrow night. I’m excited about seeing him.

The house is still a bit chaotic. Curly is visiting tomorrow.
I’m happy.