Something that you used to do, but no longer do

712 THINGS TO WRITE ABOUT - this is a book given to me by a close friend back in 2014. It sets out 712 writing tasks that exercise your writing mind. I have been missing writing about things, and I thought that this would be a good way to get me back into the game again. Would be great if you could also join me too! So here goes nothing:

Task 1: “Something that you used to do, but no longer do”

The first memory that came to mind, is of myself standing in the conservatory room at my hobby table. I was surrounded by different colored fabric, a sewing machine and many other (all new) shiny tools like scissors and pins. I remember the feeling I had, a sense of excitement and determination like this was it. I had found my calling. I was going to become a kick ass sewing goddess. After all, it is in my blood as my mum was (still is) an excellent seamstress. My Instagram would explode because I would be so awesome. There would be no outfit I could not create, no fabric too tricky, and no stitch too stitchy. Yes, I was going to be great.

First came outfits for my pet rabbit. When you start a new hobby, encouragement is what you need to keep going, not criticism. Moe, my rabbit girl, was great for this, never did she utter a word of criticism to me.

I started to take expensive sewing classes, because this is what you do when you want to become better at something. You go to classes for a structured learning environment and to get feedback so that you can improve. I made two tops and a dress, all of which I have never worn outside the house.

Ever.  

Gosh, I remember thinking, what do you do with your ugly creations? I’m not even talking about the failed projects, and there were quite a few of those. This was getting to be an expensive hobby, and I still had nothing to show for it. Maybe the problem is not me, the problem are my tools. How can I become a better sewer if my tools are holding me back? It must be the sewing machine, I needed a better one. This made total sense, so I got rid of my month-old sewing machine and bought a more expensive one that was quadruple the price. 

I tried to make a pair of bikinis, which quite literally disintegrated when I first put it on. That had taken me two weeks to put together! I was flabbergasted when I saw Primark selling bikinis for a mere £4. Do they know how tricky those fiddly bastards can be to put together?! 

My final project, a baby romper for the sweetest new born girl. Although, I might add, the baby was not so new by the time I had finished the outfit. New skill to add to my list, applying snap fasteners to fabric, using snap fastening pliers. Or so I thought, the bloody things kept popping off every so often (and I hadn’t even given it to the baby yet!). Maybe not another skill to add to my list, along with sewing. So, when I finally gave this gift to my friends baby, it came with a warning - the fasteners are probably going to pop off, and when they do, go ask my mum to fix it.

That was about 3 years ago now, the last time I tried to sew anything. My hobby table still stands, along with the expensive sewing machine, the shiny tools and a hope that one day I will be brave enough to try again.

10 YEAR CHALLENGE

Recent telephone conversation:

Relative: I'm worried that mum cannot manage washing and dressing herself.

Me: Well actually, we carried out a wash and dress assessment and she managed it independently and safely.

Relative: Yes, but she is wearing the hospital underwear, not her own underwear. How do you know that she can manage her own underwear?

Me: Well the net pants that she is using here is not so different in design from the standard underwear. So if she can put these on, I anticipate she can manage her own underwear

Relative: Yes, but they are not the same.

Me: Yes, but the motions of sitting down, positioning the underwear to put her legs through the legs holes and pulling up the underwear is still the same.

Relative: Yes, I understand. But the underwear is not the same.

Me: *sighs internally* Ok, no problem. How about you bring in her own underwear and we can practice with those?

*Hangs up phone

10 years as an OT, and here I am today, having a very serious conversation about underwear.

I think of those distant sparkly-eyed days, immediately post university. I was going to save the world, one commode at a time. If I could go back in time and confront that sparkly-eyed me, I would grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Don’t be stupid, I would say, you will be saving the world by having serious conversations about underwear.

*Please note that characters are fictional to ensure anonymity

Welcome to Surgery!

After a traumatic 9 months in Acute Elderly Medicine, I have now rotated to Surgery. At first, the transition was hard. I really did not want to let go of the Elderly medicine team or the patients. Even though my list had been truly relentless and breaks had become a luxury, these wards were my ghetto. Lots of tears, joy and frustrations had been shared and in the end, there was a sense of camaraderie amongst the team. Never the less, I was dragged out of my comfort zone. Goodbye Elderly Medicine. I will miss you.

It's strange on Surgery.  I only have one ward to cover instead of 5. I've had time to sit for lunch AND have a tea break. I don't know what to do with myself, so I talk about work because I am so used to working every single minute of the day. My new friendly colleagues tell me to shut up and stop talking about work.

My first access visit. I should have known by the ominous sign 'there is trouble here' on the letter box that this is not going to go well. But because I'm brave, I open the door anyway where I am greeted by a pungent stench. In short, the house is a tip and why is everything brown?! I conclude that it is not poop, so I venture in deeper but make a mental note to burn everything I am wearing when I get out. I see cat toys, cat food and cat beds but no cat. Where is the cat! I am scared to open each door I come across because I really don't want to find a dead cat. We make our way upstairs and I am looking at the bed. It is the oldest thing I've seen (yes even older than the things I've seen on elderly medicine). The mattress is held together by masking tape. Common sense tells me that this bed is way past its due date. Stupidity gets me kneeling on the bed to take a measurement just in case. We do what we need to do and we leave in record time. Once safely in the car, we spend a good 5 to 10 minutes lathering hand sanitiser all over ourselves.

My first multidisciplinary team (MDT) meeting with the new team. New doctors, new nurses, new physiotherapists and new assistants. It's going well but I realise I can't stop scratching my ankles, back or belly. In fact, I come to the realisation  that I haven't stopped scratching since returning from that access visit. I excuse myself from MDT to go to the toilet. I lift my tunic top and to my horror I discover red bites all over my body. I count 30 on my stomach alone. In a panic, I rush back to MDT and lift my tunic top to expose the horrible red bites to everyone for a diagnosis. We have only just met, but nothing says 'intimate' like lifting your top to the team.

Welcome to Surgery!

The toilet roll wars

As I write this I can hear the cackling witch-like laughter from my new housemate in her room next door. I desperately want to somehow sew my ears shut because that sound makes my soul cry. I am so sleep deprived.

This flat, in only the last month, has been ravaged by dirtiness, toilet paper roll wars and now loud witch-like laughter in the early hours of the morning. Except when witch girl is not working; then the laughter goes on all day and night.

Sadly, or maybe not so sadly,  I have had to find another place to stay simply because I am losing it. I suppose even more sadder is the fact that I cannot move into this new place until April (44 days, 3 hours & 41 minutes!). Not that I am counting.

I can deal with the overcrowding; 5 people in a 4 bedroom flat with only one kitchen, one shower and one toilet. No, I didn't forget the living room. There isn't one.

But I cannot deal with uncleanliness. As in every pot, pan, plate and bowl used and left in the sink for a couple of days and unwiped table tops. On top of that, I was the only one taking the rubbish out. So after every weekend up in Birmingham (3 nights), I would come home to find filled rubbish bags left in the hall way. It was like a game of chicken - who could hold out the longest. The smelly bags would remain there (and pile up) until I finally gave in and took them out. This was probably at the peak of uncleanliness and of course, one day I lost it. I don't like confrontation but since I was the one who had to stick my hand through dirty dish water to drain the sink just to wash a plate. I hit the roof. I confronted the suspect (girlfriend of a house mate staying there for free!) who then inspected the dirty dishes and denied any involvement. In fact, all the house mates denied any involvement. So like a bunch of kids, I made us all stand in the kitchen and clean at the same time.

I tried the cleaning rota - people just would not do it when it was their turn.

I tried to suggest a cleaner. Everyone agreed so I took the time and effort to locate and book an affordable one only to have one flat mate turn around and say no last minute. I don't know about you, but I always feel massively guilty cancelling a service so last minute. This was no exception.

Oh my goodness, witch girl is laughing again *shudder.

Then came the toilet roll wars. I moved in here in September 2014 and have been supplying the household with toilet paper. At first, I really did not mind. It was not until I would come home from Birmingham late Sunday night and find that all the toilet paper had been used and noone had bothered to replenish it. I got stuck one time and had to shake and air dry before I could hobble to the shower! So naturally, I became petty. When all the uncleanliness came about, I became really petty.

I started to hide my toilet paper.

And guys, seriously no joke - our flat went without toilet paper for nearly two weeks. I did think that maybe they had found my secret stash but I quickly ruled that out because I started to even lock my toilet paper in my room. And there were no signs of my lock being tampered with. I have been watching forensic files so I would know the signs of a tampered lock. Especially my particluar lock because one day I locked my keys inside my room and I had to break into my room with a card. Not once but thrice in the same night (don't ask, I don't know how it happened either).

Anyway, I guess what sealed the deal was when witch girl moved in. She moved in on a Wednesday night and had her friends over. They drank, talked and had turned banging music on. It was 1 am and I was fuming. I came out to politely ask them to shut up only to find two strange men in the kitchen smoking. I was taken aback. Who were these men?! They were taken aback. Probably because I looked like this:

Anyway I didn't care. I asked them to close the door and just keep it down.

Since then, witch girl has been considerate and not asked friends over late on a school night. Instead, she speaks really loudly on the phone to someone at 1 or 2 am. I have to put ear phones in to drown that unfortunate laugh out. She is a nice chick but I can't help but feel some animosity towards her because I am so sleep deprived. 

So I am moving out to a place where my toilet paper (and ears) will be respected.

I'll keep you posted.

x Minhie

Prague and Berlin

In the last week of November of 2014, Joyjit and I went on an adventure to Prague and Berlin. 

First stop: PRAGUE.

After an early 4 am start plus a long hour and half plane journey, we finally landed in the golden city. Since we were exhausted, the first thing we did once we cleared customs was to sit down (again) and use the free airport wifi because we have no life.

Prague airport. Joyjit working. 

Vltava river This river is crossed by 18 bridges including the famous charles smith bridge which you can see in this photo.

So Joyjit decides to get sick on the first day that we arrive.
Well done Joy. 

First photo of us in Prague.

Astronomical clock.
Every hour, the bells ring and creepy puppets appear in the windows at the top

Charles Smith Bridge.

Prague Castle. 

Even the toilets are pretty.

 

Example of a Prague menu. Seriously. All the restaurants around us served the same dishes.

This statue was one of the many beautiful statues seen dotted around Prague.

Yes. We purposely dressed the same because we wanted to be one of those cute couples who do that.

Yellow beer for me. Brown beer for Joyjit.

Tradelink patisserie. One word: Delicious.

Jewish Cemetery. Over 80,000 people were buried in this very small space.

See the fish picture on the tomb?
Each tombstone had a picture on top to depict that person's profession. It is highly likely that this person was a fisherman. My tombstone will probably have a over toilet frame or some long handled aid. 

On the train to Berlin. 

This was only a four hour journey. When you cross that border from the Czech Republic into Germany, it is a obvious change in the scenery. There is a sudden transition from run down and empty buildings that are in shambles to modernised well kept buildings. Even the train voice changes from soft  Czech accent to a strong and sturdy German accent. Willkommen!

 Second stop: BERLIN

I wanted cold weather so cold weather is what I got in Berlin. I, no joke, had to put on all the clothes that I had brought with me. By this stage, I had caught Joyjit's cold (which I suspect was a chest infection) so had become slightly delirious whenever venturing outside. Anything furry, even a rug in a store, would catch my attention and I would find myself thinking of how it would make a nice warm sock.

Joyjit weather proofing by putting on that second layer of underwear.

Christmas markets!

Wonderful, glorious and steaming hearty soup!

Berlin Memorial wall

Upon reflection, the pictures that we took did not really capture our full experience in both cities. For instance, it could not capture, in time, the many wonderful hearty dishes that we gobbled down quickly; or that gasp of wonder and awe at the amazing structural design in Prague. It did not capture the friendliness and dry sense of humour we came across in Berlin; or that bitter chill that reached deep down into our bones. Thankfully, it also did not capture our beanie hair.


In summary though, we did agree on the following:

1. We are lazy tourists. Most of our time was happily spent lounging in bed and watching movies. I have a feeling that even if we had been well, this activity still would have been a priority. 
2. We are terrible terrible photographers. We had taken many more photos but they are bad. So I am sorry about that peeps, we are working on it. I am trying to convince Joyjit to purchase one of those selfie sticks (ha ha).
3. We will definitely visit Berlin again. Prague, even though one of the most beautiful cities I have seen so far, is good for two days and nothing more. 

Diaries of a hypochondriac

Health problem 1: 

Over the last month, I have had an uncomfortable sensation in my right knee cap that has now progressed to pain upon most knee movements. I experience great difficulty negotiating steps; I am now the one who causes a traffic jam of people whenever I am ascending or descending stairs. I hobble, I hop and I stop to rest a lot. To all the old ladies and men that I have cursed under my breath for taking too long to mobilise, I am sorry; truly, I am sorry. 

Luckily I am surrounded by physiotherapists who, after poking and prodding my knee, have collectively diagnosed my problem as 'Patella tracking syndrome' or more commonly known as the runners knee. Apparently it is an overuse syndrome and according to google, very common in atheletes. I wanted to laugh in disbelief because I have not exercised properly in years. I could not, for the life of me, figure how I could have this problem. I thought long and hard about it and finally identified the cause. First, I rationalised that this discomfort began shortly after I had moved to London; then I remembered all the walking and my poor fitness levels; then I realised that I only ever used the car to get anywhere in perth; then I stopped complaining about my knee altogether because it doesn't sound impressive that I got it from an increase in walking.

Health problem 2:

As mentioned in my previous blog, I had a sudden onset of lower back pain yesterday. I had just finished using the disabled toilet at work. Yes I know, why the disabled toilet? In my defence, all the other toilets were being used and I was busting. Just as I was about to unlock the door, I felt this sudden onset of pain in my lower back/backside. It progressed to a heavy weird numbing sensation and I could not move my legs. So there I stood with one hand on the door handle frozen, silently freaking out. I was too embarrassed to call out for help. So when I felt it was safe, I managed to grab a rail with my other hand and then like a crab, I slowly walked back to the toilet to sit down for a bit. Thank god I was in the disabled toilet. 

In these few moments, my crazy mind was out of control "Oh my god, I'm paralysed. I have a tumour on my spine! Joyjit is going to leave me, he won't want to look after a disabled person; he's going to have to get me a wheelchair. Oh no I will have to go downstairs to A&E and stay at work longer. This is so inconvenient!". Anyway, to cut a long story short, I was FINE. The pain is not as bad but it is still there. I am now even slower when negotiating the steps. I don't know what it is. It is a pain in the ass, seriously it is a deep throbbing pain in my ass. The physios suspect that I have had a muscle spasm so the remedy is anti inflammatories, rest and then strengthen with Pilates.

My body is breaking down and all I have done is eat, sleep, sit and perhaps walk a bit more than I did when I was in Perth. 

Here is my theory:

The risk of injury is high if you are an athlete.

The risk of injury is just as high if you are not an athlete.

Solution? surround yourself with physios. 

Gratitude

Good morning London, I am so grateful to see you; as always, you faithfully remain just outside my window in all your grey glory. I am so thankful to be here.

I used to look in the mirror and hated what I saw. So much so that I would avoid most mirrors except, of course, when I had to get up in the mornings to get ready. I would slap on some make up and attempt to dress well because sometimes it would make me feel better; sometimes it would mask the crap human being that I felt I was.  In my mind, an epic battle raged and unfortunately, the light was fading. I could not turn that annoying voice off in my head; I am ugly; I am a loser; I am stupid; I am a bad daughter; and the worst one - I will never be good enough.  My expectation of myself was so high that not even God could reach it. I felt like I was failing in life all the time.

One day I woke up and told myself to fuck off.

It was great.

I employed the strategy of bombarding my mind with positive material whenever I had that urge to be unpleasant to myself. Now, I collect and store favourite pick-me-up websites or articles on my iphone for quick access.

Here is one of my favourites:
www.marcandangel.com

and I love this article:
http://www.marcandangel.com/2011/08/30/12-things-happy-people-do-differently/

But what I really wanted to share with you today is this wonderful journal that I purchased for myself a month ago.

It reminds me to practice gratitude everyday. It is such a quick and simple task but yet so powerful because when I focus on what I am thankful for, suddenly the world becomes that much more perfect. 

Today's entries:

I am happy and grateful that I can afford a heater to keep me warm at night.

I am happy and grateful that I have sensation in my face because then I could enjoy the crisp cool air on my face when I walked to work today. 

I am happy and grateful that I don't have a tumour in my spine (I had a sudden onset of pain in my lower back yesterday which has now resolved with anti inflammatories. In my initial moment of panic (I couldn't walk), I was convinced that I had a spinal tumour but I will tell you more about this in the blog to follow.).

So what are you thankful for today?