I’m shopping (12th August) and as I approach the checkout the small items I’m holding in my right hand fall to the floor. Confused I try and pick them up and can’t. My right hand and arm have disconnected from the drive-train.
Doctor..XRays..Osteoarthritis in the neck from a thousand cold bivouacs..pinched nerves…Neurologist referral to confirm..go home..get used to it.
I accept the news and drive 600 kms to a wedding where I am billed to play ‘Marie’s Wedding’ on the bagpipes.
I can’t. My right hand is still in neutral.
I drive further up to Carnarvon Gorge and work for a week helping a local boy?s college run a camp for teenage boys.
My right hand is now re-connected to the drive train but the clutch is slipping.
Drive back 1200 kms.
I arrive at the local Veterans Affairs Hospital for my specialist appointment with an Associate Professor who destroys my erroneously based confidence by bypassing all ‘Osteoarthritis’ type questions and going straight to ‘Stroke’ type questions.
My blood runs cold. Driving 2,500 km after a Transient Ischemic Attack, aka a mini stroke, is not conducive to longevity and worse, could have damaged my beloved V8 Discovery.
Two weeks of every test known to man and machines tell their human operators that I have an 80% blockage in my left Carotid artery and something had better be done about it.
Quickly.
Three hours after confirmation I’m talking to two specialist surgeons and they’re describing how they are going to slit my throat and fix the problem.
Three days later I’m on the operating table and five days after surgery I am at home writing this post and working on some funny one-liners to handle the ‘Jesus! What?s that scar” type exclamations when I venture back into polite society. I currently look like a reject from a B-Grade Frankenstein movie.
And if my little story isn’t the greatest ever reflection on the standards of the Australian Veterans ‘Repair and Maintenance’ program then I don’t know what is.
Being the left carotid artery, my right (wing) brain was under threat but I’m happy, deliriously so in fact, to announce all is in order.
But as I drift off to sleep each night when there are no books, computers or conversations to distract me, I shudder and have trouble engaging my ‘fantasy-drive’ that for years has lifted me from low nights and rocky days.
It’s a long fall from where I’ve been but as my first Platoon Sergeant used to say “Keep moving soldier, I’ll tell you when you?re tired”.
Should be my old cocky self in a day or two and by then it should be two out of three for us right wingers. Bush will be orating poorly while leading well and my world will be in order.
I picked up
this link from
Tram Town and reproduce it here for all petrol head readers.
It links to a story of hot rod powered by a Patton tank engine, an AV-1790-5B and it’s 1792 cu. in. It has overhead cams and Hemi heads. Since it was designed to move a tank, it puts out 810 hp and makes 1560 ft.-lb. of torque. The engine is 6 foot long
Worth the read.
An
amazing story of courage from North Queensland where a 60 year old woman took on a 4 metre, 350 k croc by jumping on it’s back and wrestling until the beast cried ‘uncle’ and let go of the 34 year old man in it’s jaws.
It’d would make a good Mother-n-Law joke but it’s no joke and I for one would be honoured to shake her hand.
In
this article in the Queensland’s Courier Mail the gutsy woman is identified as Grandmother, Mrs Sorohan.
Way to go Lady. I bet the grand kids do what you tell ’em now.
Top 20 countries reading my website.
1. au (Australia)
2. com (Commercial)
3. net (Network)
4. (no entry)
5. edu (Educational)
6. nl (Netherlands)
7. il (Israel)
8. mil (USA Military)
9. gov (USA Government)
10. uk (United Kingdom)
11. cn (China)
12. sa (Saudi Arabia)
13. org (Non-Profit Organizations)
14. ca (Canada)
15. be (Belgium)
16. jp (Japan)
17. fr (France)
18. th (Thailand)
19. us (United States)
20. no (Norway)
12. sa (Saudi Arabia) Jesus Christ! Golly Gosh! I hope they don’t mind me putting down on terrorists. Hey Saudi Guy…don’t…..read….archives.
Stop panicking…could be a good guy. If the Saudi guy would leave a comment and calm me down. Something like “I hate Terrorists too” would do.
Hang on, it’s most probably an expat. That’s it. Now I remember..a lot of guys from a regiment I was once in, live and work over there.
Whatever…leave a comment..please.
I have included a weather link on the right bar so people can be better aware of the reason I live in Brisbane. A sub-tropical city on the east coast of Australia the only issue about weather is will tomorrow be like paradise or just perfect.
However, each winter, the temperature does drop to single figure celcius for about two weeks and when it does the family get nervous and/or just wait for me to start ranting about moving to Cairns, a tropical city a thousand miles north of here and definitely Tropical.
Why do kids roll their eyes like that?
Old soldiers prefer warmer climes. Something to do with osteoarthritis – a medical term for aches and pains associated with years of sleeping on the ground in not-so-warm climates.
So you can all feel sorry for me I have included a picture of the view from my home office. This nice little set-up is fiercely guarded by Holly, the Golden Retriever on sentry duty half hidden behind the chair.
I feel so secure.
The patio roof sheeting (the shiny stuf at the top of the pic) is insulated with 50mm of a foam not unlike cold-room material. The cold room insulation has been modified in Queensland to try and tame the power of the sun. Last Christmas the temperature was 10 degrees celcius less under the patio than out in the sun and it was still mid 30s under.
For those who live in snow-bound climates like northern Europe, and some of my readers do, you may find it hard to believe, but in December and January the pool is too hot to swim in and we have to provide shade over the pool to cool the water down.
If I get bored at home I can always tavel about 90 minutes north and arrive at the southern end of this shitty little beach. From the point, one can drive south (towards the top left hand corner in the pic) along an almost deserted beach (50 to 100 m wide at low tide) for about 60 km.
Fish, swim, camp, drink or just sit there and get overwhelmed by the beauty of it all.
Count my blessings…feel better now.
Very busy with Legacy this week but hope to be free sometime tomorrow morning to comment and watch the Left wind up for a huge dummy-spit on Saturday night. Legacy, that organization that looks after the widows and children of deceased veterans is planning an auction of militaria to be held at 41 Merivale Street South Brisbane, QLD 4101 (07) 3846 4299, on Sunday 17 Oct.
One lot caught my eye…
Dagger – Japanese Kamikaze Dagger. Has very old ancestoral blade C1850. Pilot’s name in panel on sheath with red ‘Rising Sun’ & “Kamikaze” on reverse. Brass Naval symbols on hilt. From estate of CPO Percy Ross, on HMAS Nizam at Phillipines Invasion.
Like, how many ‘Kamakaze’ daggers would there be left in the world? They should all be melted somewhere in the Pacific..a part of the wreck of a US or Aussie destroyer or simply at the bottom of the sea.
Phone (07) 3846 4299 for more details. Legacy accept phone bidding and will gladly send you a catalogue if your not local. If you are local drop in. I manage the database and catalogue so I can promise you over 500 lots of Australian military history.
I’m prepared to bet that the God of rational thought will prevail on Saturday and send the Coalition back to the treasury benches. The lesser gods of hedonism and socialism will have to take a backseat for another parliament.
I’m standing by for a deluge of ‘Just how stupid are the voters’ on Sunday.
Should be fun.
I will never, ever, tell stories again about bad Infantry camp sites.
How do you check the sentries?
From
Gut Rumbles.
If 228 people voted to withdraw our troops because a terrorist said so, then what the hell else are they confused about.
Isn’t there some way we can disenfranchise idiots like this?
Must be Green supporters.
A sucide bomber has detonated an explosive device outside the Australia Embassy this afternoon. Due to the strength of the security walls it appears no Australians have been killed. Typically, the bastards don’t care who they kill – even their own people are fair game.
The al-Qaeda-linked Jemaah Islamiah group need to memorize the flag and be careful otherwise the last thing they see will be the flag with camouflage backing on the shirt of an Aussie digger.
Good at killing men and women, try a digger – he fights back. Just ask your scruffy mates from from other theatres of terrorism barbarity.
I have just spent six days at Carnarvon Gorge helping the staff of a local Boys college run an environment studies bush week. I am often caught criticizing the education system including the input of teachers and output of young Australians but must give credit where credit is due and in this case do it gladly.
The teachers worked very hard, sometimes up to 20 hours a day, leading the boys up ravines, along cliffs and high ridges. The entire exercise is one of learning about the environment, aborigines and their culture and the boys own self worth. Time spent around the campfire at night was devoted to assessing each boy and approaching his personal and academic advancement in a positive light.
If you read boys college and think ‘privileged’ don’t. A lot of parents work two or more jobs to have their sons attend this college and whereas one boy might be the son of a wealthy businessman, the boy along side is not. The boys are only privileged insofar as their parents strongly believe in education
Another pleasing aspect was the presence of fathers and others who had once had an association with the college who gave a up a week of their busy live to travel on a 1600 km round trip at their own expense to help guide and provide role models for the boys. Company Directors, Tradesman, a 79 year old ex Luftwaffe technician, a publican who has recently divested himself of his hotel and a brace of young ‘old boy’ uni students.
Such is the committment of those who believe in education.
I contributed by helping to run the Base Camp. My legs, and more recently, my right arm, are beyond their use-by date so leading boys up ravines onto high ridges is beyond me. But hey, I can now enjoy the life of a base soldier.
I was thanked for my help but the abiding bottom line is that I am a better person for having witnessed this dedication to our youth and I congratulate all who attended- particularly the leaders.
While there I met an old mate from Army Days who, with his wife, had spent some days on bush walks. When I told them I was with the schoolboys they were generous with their praise of these 15 year olds, who, to a boy, had looked up on their weary climb up the gorge and exchanged pleasantries, said Hullo, how are you? Great place isn’t it? Did you see the echidna down the track?
Best praise of all – unsolicited.
My background leads me to be critical and demanding but I have no criticisms and would only demand you consider sending your boys to Nudgee College, Brisbane
They would be in good hands.
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