My Words

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I recently read a newspaper article about Betty Churcher, previous Director of Australia's National Art Gallery in Canberra. She is a 78 year old woman who, after being diagnosed with melanoma of the optic nerve six years ago, is blind in her right eye and has deteriorating vision in her left eye. She is losing the very thing which allows her to live her passion and focus in life: Art. Her way of coping and keeping her art alive is to draw her favourite works of art. In this way she learns the intricate details of a piece of art, becomes familiar with its brush strokes, its depth of colour and may even experience a part of the art work she may have previously missed. And, when she does become blind, she will have a mental image of what that piece of art was like visually. She will cherish this and relive her art work in her mind.

Words are so much a part of my life. I have thought about losing the ability to use words (cognitive function), the ability to write (hand function), the ability to read (eye function). I would be truly devastated. For me, losing the ability to read would be worse than not seeing colour, a sunset or a rainbow anymore. And, although I would be able to memorise a few more poems, how could I memorise my favourite books? And after a while, would I really be able to remember the shape of the 26 letters I hold so dear? Would I remember what a sentence looked like, let alone a word?

What is it you hold most dear? Imagine losing the function of that part of your body which allows you to enjoy what is most dear to you. Could you cope, and if so how?

Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!

Disclaimer: This is NOT a dream/nightmare. Please read on...

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Picture waking up on a crisp Autumn morning, a pot of tea brewing, your favourite spread is out, toaster is ready and as you prepare to toast your eagerly-awaited slice of bread you find an unwelcomed surprise...a cockroach! This was what a Sydney-sider experienced earlier this week.

I am reminded of a popular waiter's joke:

'Waiter, there's a fly in my soup!!'
"No Sir, that's a cockroach, the fly is on your steak!"

My worst dining-out experience (thankfully, I suppose!) has been finding a hair (which I imagine fell of the back of the chef's hand, or even eyelash) on my plate. Now that I think of the eyelack, I also imagine the millions of bacteria which exist at the base of our eyelashes. Mmmm, maybe I shouldn't be so thankful after all...

What inedible thing have you found on your plate in the past?

A Baby?

Photo courtesy of http://www.carmelbabyboutique.com/images/baby_clothes.jpg



Whilst waiting at the Roads and Traffic Authority office to pay my car registration, I noticed there was rack after rack of babys' and childrens' clothes beside me. Inquisitive, I took a closer look. I started to choose a couple of outfits with my seven-month old niece and my sister-in-law's unborn baby in mind. The closer and more involved I got the more excited I became. I could even feel a tremor of excitement in my hands. Pink overalls, yellow frilly tops, tiny blue velvet jackets and petite pistachio pants. My arms were almost overwhelmed when I noticed a little wriggle appear from a striped blue jumpsuit. I looked again and there was another movement and a jerk of a tiny arm. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw a baby, yes, a newborn baby boy! I couldn't hold back any longer. I threw aside what clothes were still in my arms and reached for this adorable infant. I held him and smelled him and felt his velvety soft skin against my cheek. I couldn't just stand there so I approached the desk and caught the attention of the service person standing behind it. I told her of my find. She asked me if I was the baby's mother. Of course, I answered no. She then stated that she needed proof that I was not the mother of the baby and that I had not abandoned the baby in the first place. One way she could get her proof before calling authorities was to check to see if I was wearing a nursing bra! About to pull the neck of my top to the side to prove that I indeed was not wearing a bursing bra, I was disturbed by an almighty sound.



My husband's snoring!

Observing

Mr 6 sitting, observing casually at La Roche, Beirut, Lebanon.
Date: 16th July 2008.


Wouldn't you just love to sit and watch the world go by?

Sometimes.

To be an observer.

For once.

Not a participant.

Just once.

To sit and watch the world go by.

Recovery & Thanks

Late last week I underwent a surgical procedure which I had been avoiding for almost a year. I would like to thank my family, friends and blogger friends who have sent me good wishes. You are all very kind. I also appreciate everything that my family have done for me. All the love that they have shown me, the flowers and books they have showered me with and a lovely fish and rice dinner and that apple streudel. Thank you for all those cups of coffee you have made for me, which have usually gone cold as a result of me dozing off without notice, due to various analgesics (and thank goodness for them!).

I would like to say a special thank you to Kayleigh and Valerie for their wonderful stories which kept me occupied while I waited to be 'wheeled in' for surgery. My mind was pleasantly occupied as I tried to ward off my hunger and anxiety.

You see, I underwent my first general anaesthesia ever (yes, I used my resources to look up the data on risks associated with the anaesthesia and I was quite concerned to say the least, as rare as the risks are). I almost completely forgot the reason I was there in the first place and just focussed on the anaesthesia and its possible side-effects. But it was unavoidable. Much to my surprise however, it was actually quite pleasant to 'go under' . My surgeon was the sweetest. He held my right hand with both his hands (which I squeezed very tightly) and he told me all would be okay, that he would see me that evening, that I was beautiful, and I would have his ugly face to look forward to seeing (which, of course, made me giggle). I know this is what he says to all his patients but his words put me at such ease that, when the anaesthetist placed a mask over my mouth and nose, I felt more relaxed than I had been all week.

And, yes, I am still here!

With my love and best wishes to you all.

Mervat.

P.S. If I have commented on your blog recently and my words do not quite make sense you now know why...but nothing, not even high grade pain killers, could keep me away from my laptop (despite letters and words running into eachother and my head falling towards the keyboard!)!

P.P.S If I have made any errors in this post then, please forgive me (she says with a slurred speech!).