Friday, 4 May 2018

Preparing for the Ration Challenge (1)

So I've decided to write regular posts in the lead up to The Ration Challenge.  Not only to raise awareness around what I'm doing and why, but also to share recipe ideas for the challenge itself.

So I thought to start with, I'd talk a little about my limited experiences with refugees.

The fact is, I've probably met a lot of folk from refugee backgrounds.  I know that one of my GP's fled the war in Iran with her family, for example.  But we've never really talked about it - it's not exactly something you just ask someone unless you know them very well.  So the only time I've openly spoken to someone of their experience as a refugee was at a wedding.

Some work by the iconic Misery (AKA Tanja Thompson)

Some years ago (12ish?) I went to an exhibition by Misery held somewhere on K Road.  I was headed there after going to some other thing, and by the time I arrived the friends I was meeting there were fairly hammered.  One had befriended this tall, friendly guy who spoke very little English.  His name was Bilal.  For a few hours, they were best friends, but as the alcohol wore off, Bilal was set adrift, so another (sober) friend and I took him under our wing.  My friend discovered she lived close to him, so dropped him home after, and then they became friends for real.

Bilal had come to New Zealand to learn English and experience life in a different (non-Muslim) culture.  He came from an affluent family in Jordan and was a qualified pilot. While his English wasn't great, he was a very social guy and worked in a pizza place on K Road.  He'd ended up at the exhibition purely because he'd heard people having a good time and wanted to see what it was all about.  Even though at times he thought us Kiwi's crazy, he welcomed us into his life, and his home - which put us in contact with the Somalian family he was staying with.

Hospitality is one of the main tenets of the Muslim faith.  Consequently, we were welcomed with warm smiles and sweet, milky tea.  So welcomed that we were invited to the niece of Bilal's host families wedding.  We were even given roles - as photographers (after they discovered we weren't so hot at doing bridal makeup), and traveled in a limousine* with the bridal party to the wedding.

For this particular community, men and women have separate celebrations - the legalities are performed between the brides father and the groom.  So the women have an epic hoolie with singing and dancing and drumming, while the men have a formal dinner somewhere up the road.  Because there are no men there, it is an opportunity for the women to let loose and really enjoy themselves, in their brightest sequinned flowing outfits.


A Somalian wedding dance - very similar to one performed at the wedding we went to.

It was during these celebrations that I met a woman missing two fingers.  Her name eludes me after all these years, but she was the most open and warmest women at the celebration.  She welcomed us white strangers in our drab garb and helped us understand what to do during the drumming, singing and dancing and answered all our questions.  She had divorced her husband because he abused her, and consequently, had her fingers chopped off.  Shortly after that, she fled her home with her kids and ended up here.  She didn't talk much about her journey here - just about how grateful she was to have her freedom, and about life as a modern, divorced Muslim woman in the New Zealand Somalian community.

I had seen people missing fingers.  But only men, and only due to war (my Great Grandfather) or industrial machinery accidents.  I had never met a woman who'd had her fingers brutally separated from her.  For trying to do her best for herself and her children.  I mean, I knew this stuff happened, but I never saw it, so the idea of it was more like watching a movie - distanced from reality.  Like anti-Semitism being an actual thing.  And Donald Trump.  Even though these issues are very real and very dangerous, in all honesty they feel distanced from my day to day life.

People scouring the debris of buildings after a strike by Syrian Government forces

And while this woman was from Somalia, and not from Syria - her story is not unlike theirs.  They have had to flee their home to survive, and for their families to survive.  And the largest camp holding them, is in the home country of the person who connected me to my first refugee story.  Bilal told me that if I went to Jordan I could stay at anyone's home - even a strangers -  for three nights because this was just the sort of hospitality expected in Jordan.  I am grateful to see them extending a similar hospitality to the refugees who have made it across the border.  And I'd love to offer my humbler hospitality to those in the camps there, so distanced from my life by doing a small thing to help provide food and education and the possibility of better things for them.  And I also hope that through doing this challenge, and understanding one aspect of refugee life, it helps me feel a little less distant.

*               *                *               *                 *               *                 *                *               

Now, I promised recipes...

I decided to start with something simple that uses the ingredient which will make up the majority of my diet over those seven days: rice.  And I decided to make a snack that is part of my usual diet on a regular basis: rice crackers.  I have never made rice crackers before.  In fact, I'd never even considered that you can make rice crackers before.  But I know I will want both something to snack on for this challenge, and something that is a normal part of my diet.  Because those things are both comforting.

So I found this recipe online and thought I'd give it a go.


Rice crackers - half plain, half parsley - an ingredient I am considering for one of my bonuses

I have substituted ingredients out for things I will have in the challenge.  So instead of coconut oil, I used canola oil.  And I didn't add any salt.  Sounds bland?  A little.  Nonetheless - they are crunchy, and I can pretend they are chips.  And they have the kids tick of approval - which is not easy to get!  Abby demolished her first two, then tried to sneak some more!  And Etta swallowed a small bite without too much complaint, which is high praise from her.  Abby said 'I like the green crackers best' so it's an easy way to get fresh greens into a kid too!   Murray was also a fan.  His feedback was: 'They are crunchy good and yum.'

So not only have I found something I can make for the Ration Challenge, but I've found something I can make for everyday snacks.  It's not too labour intensive, the kids can help make them, and is definitely healthier for the kids than the supermarket rice crackers.  They are cheap, and provide a lot of scope for flavour options outside of the Ration Challenge.  Murray has already said I will have to make an extra batch for the kids when I'm doing the challenge so that they don't nick mine as my limited resources will be precious!

Abby endorsing these home-made rice crackers (looks like a grimace, but that's her smile)


If you'd like to sponsor me for the Ration Challenge, just click here (ignore the recommended donation levels, give what you can).  If you'd like to participate in the Ration Challenge yourself, click here.  If you'd like more information of how you can help refugee communities here in NZ in non-monetary ways, click here.  And if you'd like to keep an eye out for more recipe posts from me, just watch this space!


* It is the only time I've ever been in a limousine

Saturday, 28 April 2018

On Choosing To Do The Ration Challenge




So after much deliberation I've decided to do The Ration Challenge in support of Syrian refugees in camps in Jordan.  The reason I had to really think this through was because it's going to be a super difficult challenge!  The ration packs are small and simple - they equate to about 80% of what an average adults caloric intake should be.  And because I have low blood pressure and other dietary restrictions (to help manage my endometriosis and adenomyosis symptoms) - this made me feel a little anxious.

But after much thought I realised that actually - I am in many ways the perfect candidate for this challenge.  I do not work full time.  I do not have a lot of extra curricula activities I cannot put on hold for a week to participate.  I have a very supportive family.  And this diet is just for one week.  For the people living in these camps - this has no known endpoint.  And they endure many, many other restrictions and face challenges daily that I cannot even comprehend.

My food supplies for one week

And I do have a lot of experience in learning new ways of cooking for restrictive diets - although these rations definitely provide the toughest challenge yet.  Thankfully, I am allowed to alter my rations to fit my dietary restrictions.  So I will swap out the sardines for tofu and the flour for a GF flour alternative.  Which leaves me with only one high FODMAPS item (kidney beans) which, if used sparingly in meals over the time period - should not make my pain flare up.

I will also be blogging and posting during the week of the challenge to give people some idea of the nature of the challenges faced eating this way.  I will be doing this from my comfy house which is warm and dry and not overcrowded, where I can watch Netflix and read in my comfortable bed - luxuries the refugees living on the same diet as me, will not have.  There are some great insights as to what their lives may look like here.

For me, this challenge is as much about raising awareness as it is about raising money.  I know that not everyone has money to give.  But everyone always has the capacity for compassion.  Being a refugee isn't really a choice.  It is either that, or face the possibility of death, or even worse atrocities for those fleeing their homes.  These people have done nothing wrong.  They are not taking the easy way out.  They are not trying to inconvenience others.  They are just trying to survive, and help their families also, survive situations beyond our comprehension.  I hope that in raising awareness of what they face, I can help people be more compassionate to the refugee families that live within our own communities.

I did not know about the Oxfam controversy when I signed up for this.  And when a friend pointed this out - I was (as everyone was) pretty shocked.  Because I thought of Oxfam as a reliable, known charity that did good so I hadn't even thought to question them.  But I needed to find out more before pulling out of the challenge because I already had some awesomely generous donations, and I really wanted to help this cause.  And I am so glad I did, because what I have discovered makes me feel like I (unintentionally) chose to align with a progressive charity.  Yes, there was horrific historic mismanagement in Haiti.  But none of those staff work for Oxfam now.  In fact, they have owned their errors and rectified them in such a way that it will be difficult for anything like this to ever happen within this organisation again.  Everyone makes mistakes.  The importance is that we learn and grow from those mistakes.

Regardless of my thoughts, I can see how this would put folk off sponsoring me.  And that's totally ok!  I also understand why some people would prefer to help refugees in their own back yards - and that's ok too!  This is the first charity event I have taken part in that helps with foreign aid since childhood. There are plenty of other local programmes where people can give their time, or additional clothing or home wares to help refugees leaving the camps settle in to New Zealand life which also need support.  The whole reason I am doing this is to bring about awareness of the hardships faced by refugees worldwide.

Why I chose this challenge is that it speaks to who I am as a person.  Much of my life revolves around food.  Most of my jobs have been either in food and hospitality, or (like now) in retail revolving around cooking or health.  Much of how I help myself feel better about things, also revolves around food.  A challenge like this reminds me of how much of my life I take for granted.  How I take having fresh vegetables for granted.  It also reminds me of the settled refugees I have met here and the unthinkable challenges and sacrifices they have faced in their lives*.  Of how lucky I am, and how easily things could be different.
To get a vegetable would be AMAZING
The other aspect that appeals is the challenges rewards system.  Not only does it encourage me to work harder for more donations, but also because it is not dissimilar to refugees taking on extra work to provide more for their families and themselves.  And because the rewards are small, and difficult to achieve - it already makes me feel so much gratitude for the small things.  I am so thankful to already have managed to get up to the 'milk' level of reward (I thought I would struggle if I didn't make it that far).  And I am excited about potentially getting to the next level now - an additional spice or flavoring!  This small thing will make that week so much easier, but it is not simple to get.  It is smart using our vested interest to help others.

And I can use this challenge to talk to my kids about what privilege means.  How this impacts their lives, and how lack of it massively impacts the lives of others.  I can use this as an educational tool for compassion and kindness and not taking for granted that everyone shares the same opportunities that they have.

The Ration Challenge itself is not until June (from the 17th to the 24th) which means there is plenty of time to sponsor me if you do want to.  It also means there is plenty of time to share my sponsorship link if you think it might be of interest to your friends and whanau.  And please, feel free to ignore the recommended sponsorship levels!  They are quite high - so just give what you can if you want to give anything at all.  Just $5 will feed a family of four for one day, so everything counts.  It also means there is plenty of time to sign up if you want to participate yourself (you have until the 30th of May).  I'll also be sharing recipes and food ideas via Facebook and my blog as well.  I feel nervous, and excited about it.  But most of all, I feel hopeful that this small act will in some way help improve the lives of others.

* I have only spoken to a few settled refugees (from Somalia) about their experience, and it was a long time ago.  These conversations were over a shared meal at a large celebration of exclusively women.  I was so grateful to have been welcomed and included, despite being an obvious outsider.  And I was equally grateful to have women share their very difficult stories with me - the outsider - openly.  It is an experience that will sit with me for my whole life, and is probably a big part of why this particular challenge makes sense to me.  Especially, now as a parent.

Thursday, 26 April 2018

A belated post on Trans Awareness Week

So I wrote this post for trans awareness week.  But at that time, one of my trans friends wasn't doing so great, so I decided to delay posting as didn't want to do anything that might make things unintentionally harder for her.

The reason I'm posting it now is that I think it's important.  I have heard and read so many negative posts and articles about trans folk during, and since, the Commonwealth Games.  And it was made very apparent that treating trans folk with the same dignity and respect as everyone else, still seems to make a lot of people uncomfortable.

  These may seem like harmless words             
but they aren't harmless to everyone          

I am not trans.  I'm cis.  Consequently, I cannot speak on behalf of the transgender community.  I write here from the position of someone who has friends and whanau that are trans.  I also speak from the position of someone who has made mistakes, and is still learning how best to show the trans folk close to me that I care for and respect them,

I'll start with the absolute basics by explaining a little about the differences between biological gender, gender and sexuality.

Our biological gender is the gender we are born with.  When we think of biology we immediately think male and female, but not everyone is male or female.  About 1.7% of the population are born intersex.  This is approximately as common as people having red hair - so it's not that uncommon.

Our gender is how we define ourselves - female, male, gender queer, trans or however we choose.  People who are transgender define themselves as different to the gender they were born as.  People who are cisgender define themselves as the same as the gender they were born as.  People who are gender queer see themselves as neither, both or a combination of male and female.

Our sexuality is a completely separate issue to our gender or biological gender.  In simple form, it relates to who we are attracted to: straight, gay, bisexual or assexual.  But there are many other forms of sexuality people identify with.

I think one of the reasons some people are uncomfortable with the idea of trans folk is that it rocks the boat.  You fill out a survey - first question asks if you are male or female.  You have a baby - first question is whether it's a boy or a girl.  You tell someone you've had a girl - they say oh!  She's so pretty!  As a culture, we define many things based on a binary view of gender.  Our language is full of gendered pronouns.  Acknowledging that gender isn't simply a binary system can really seem to mess with peoples world views.

What I hear repeated time and again is that trans folk have a choice.  In some respects this is true.  Trans folk can choose to live closeted in a body that doesn't feel like it belongs to them.  For many trans folk this means choosing death - and I do mean that literally.  Or they can choose to transition and have a chance at feeling more themselves.  I do not believe anyone who isn't trans can really understand this.  Sure, for whatever reason some of us are not 100% comfortable in the skin we're in.  This is not the same thing as being uncomfortable in the gender we were born into.  Consequently, I do not feel anyone who is not trans has any right to judge this choice.

And some people seem to think that being trans seems is just another a new idea, a fad even, like going gluten free.  The truth is it really, really isn't.  There are many cultures that historically ascribed to a non-binary system of gender including Samoan (fa'afafine), Indian (hijra), Native American (llamana) and Māori (Takatāpui). And in all of these cultures these non-binary folk had an accepted role to play - here, in Aotearoa they were often tohunga - specialists and educators.  Many of these traditional ideas were suppressed with the arrival of Christianity which held a binary view of gender and a hetronormative view of sexuality.  Thankfully, as we reconnect with our history over time, we recover the truth of our pasts.

All that has happened, between now and a few years ago, is that trans folk are becoming more visible.  Given that so many trans-women were on the front lines of the gay rights movement, it's well past time.


Shortland Street's first trans character played by a trans actor (Tash Kennedy)

The other group that are becoming slightly more visible are the intersex community.  Of course, being intersex is also nothing new.  It is just a normal biological variant that has existed in numerous forms for as long as humans have existed.  But since the 1920's 'normalisation' surgeries have been carried out to 'fix' intersex people.  Many of these are purely cosmetic - recreating genitals to appear more female, or more male.  And these are still carried out today.  In fact, there is only one country in which it is illegal to perform unnecessary gender-reassignment surgeries on children (Malta).  We seem intent on reshaping those who are different to fit into very specific boxes.

And many intersex people do not have obvious physical gender differences - it is completely possible you know someone who is intersex, and this is just not something you know about them.  Many people do not actually find out that they are intersex until they hit puberty, or when they are even older.  What has started happening more, is that more of the intersex community are speaking out about their experiences, and we are starting to hear them.  We are starting to realise that forcing people to conform to a form that doesn't fit can be damaging.  It's sad that it's taken us this long to understand something so simple.   

Even so, in a world filled with male and female bathrooms, gender segregated clothing, even gender segregated Nerf guns, how easy do you think it is to tell someone that you are neither, or both?  If you never had to tell anyone, and you were, in fact, encouraged not to, would you tell someone you were intersex?


Hanne Gaby Odiele - out and proud in spite of being told 
repeatedly by medical professionals to keep her intersex identity secret.

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So why is it important to be aware of the trans and intersex communities?

I think the answer to this is the reason why people feel particularly uncomfortable about these communities.  It's important because they show that simplifying gender down to two polarities is not right.  Yes, simplifying makes things easier.  It makes ticking boxes on forms easier.  It makes explaining things to our kids easier.  But it isn't the truth of the world we live in.  It leaves a lot of people out of the equation.

The estimate for the percentage of folk who are transgender in the US is 0.6%.  Combining* this with rates of intersex folk puts people who are gender varying from biology - at over 2% of the population.  That's 1 in every 50 people.  Putting that into the context of the NZ population that's 94,447 people not represented by the terms 'male' or 'female'.  And that number is conservative and also doesn't include people who identify as non-binary, gender queer or gender fluid.

How do you think being left out impacts on these people?

Here are some trans folks stories and here are some more.  And here is a short blog post from a young intersex person on how important it is to see people like themselves accurately represented by media.

I am not trans.  I cannot speak about how this feels.  What I can speak about though is evidence, and data suggests that being trans is pretty fucking hard.  In the US, the trans community are nine times more likely to attempt suicide than the average cisgendered American.  They are twice as likely to live in poverty than their cisgendered peers.  And over half of the people in the survey I'm referencing here were nervous about using public restrooms for fear of confrontation.  Last year alone (until November) in the US over 25 trans folk have lost their lives due to fatal violence.  They were murdered purely because they chose to live life as the person they wanted to be.

It is important to me to show those I love within this community that their feelings are valued.  The best way I can do that is through respecting their feelings and listening to and being accepting of their wishes even if I don't always fully understand them.  There are some great lists of things we can do to support our trans peers available online like this one.

   Utilising non-gendered language just makes it 
           easier to be inclusive of everyone.

I am still learning.  I need to work on my use of language.  I find it easy to use pronouns correctly with friends I've only known post transition - I can remember hearing my flatmate who was transitioning at the time's real name (or 'dead name') and laughing because it didn't fit her at all.  I don't think I ever screwed up her gender.  But for those I've known before, during and after transition it's been harder.  It is just my lizard brain reverting to old relationships and ideas.  But really, this is just laziness - I can retrain my brain.  And it's such a small and simple thing to do.


And regarding trans folk participation in the Commonwealth Games. Folk thinking 'Oh!  These people are just transitioning so it's easier to win.'  Or 'They have an unfair advantage.  They should be competing in their birth gender.'  I think you need to understand just how tough transitioning can be.  I asked a friend to describe (in short form) her experiences with transitioning.  Here is some of what she said:


'Oh it's an intense journey.. It tends to come with extensive experience with mental illness and being displaced from a society you're still expected to somehow participate in despite how much it hates you. Hormones can be hell - if you've chosen to take them- and then there's so many different angles when it comes to hormones too.. Most of us don't know we can self medicate and are instead at the whim of doctors who don't know about or care about us.  So often we're put on pill regimes which are dangerous to our bodies, especially in the long term but just like with police.. we are .. well.. indoctrinated to trust doctors too. So that's an uphill battle.'

 


 Laurel Hubbard - fucking legend!

So lets just say trans athletes who are competing at Commonwealth level are dealing with a lot more than most athletes - mentally, emotionally and physically.  For some first hand accounts of the difficulties associated with competing after transitioning, check out Vice's excellent section on Trans Athletes.  I struggle to see how this places them at a physical advantage over their cisgendered competitors.

I've gone through IVF (closest cis comparison I can come up with to HRT), and while I was on IVF I was a crazy hormonal bitch.  I bloated.  Random things made me burst into ugly cries.  I had zero energy and little brain.  There is no way I would have wanted to do anything like train for a sporting competition.  It was hard enough just going to work every day.  And IVF is a researched and proven hormone treatment method.  Contrasting this with developing HRT for individuals with different hormonal requirements which is still quite experimental, I think I got off lightly.  And unlike IVF, HRT can be for life.

As a cisgendered person, I live a life of privileges I can't even comprehend.  And I think, with privilege comes responsibility.  It takes very little to show kindness and compassion for those who do not share this privilege.  My hope is that over time kindness can level the playing field so our trans friends and family can share in the privileges** so many of us take for granted.

* I am only putting trans and intersex folk together to prove a point about a binary view of gender being unhelpful.  I do not feel that any trans person should have to put 'gender diverse' on any form ever.  Trans folk should write whatever their preferred gender is on any form without fear.

** Privileges including (but not limited to) job stability, financial stability, being able to find clothes that fit our bodies, the acceptance of our friends and families, being happy in our bodies and selves, being able to leave the house safely.  Sure, we may not all share all these privileges (I do) but we are more likely to have them than our trans peers.  

Friday, 30 March 2018

On Living With Pain

Pain is a tricky thing to talk about.  It is subjective - one person's 8 on the pain scale may be another person's 5.  Regardless of this, pain is something we should all take a little more seriously in terms of how we see our own health, and that of others.

Recently I got some gastro bug thing - which is fairly regular occurrence now I'm a parent of small humans.  It was bad enough that I felt super wiped out and had to take time off work.  But I thought it was just a regular tummy bug - I was glad it was just 'poos' and not 'poos and spews'.  A few days later, Murray caught my bug.  He also had to take time off work, but what was different for him was the pain.  He described it as the worst abdominal pain he'd ever experienced - like vices gripping specific areas of his stomach.  Because his pain differed so much from what I'd experienced I was concerned.  Maybe he didn't have what I had?  Maybe he had appendicitis?

       Me in Auckland hospital
for my second ectopic pregnancy


When we quickly realised this was not the case, we postulated theories as to why his pain was worse.  The most logical one we could come up with was that because I have regularly encountered abdominal pain (IBS, ectopic pregnancies, ovarian cysts, prolapse) my body may have acclimitised to pain - maybe his 9 on the pain scale is a 5 for me.

Current scientific research tells us that actually the opposite of this is true.  People who suffer from chronic pain conditions can become more sensitive to pain as the nervous system's function is altered by overuse.  This led me to wonder if, given my health history, my nervous system experiences pain as it's supposed to.  Has something that was once a 5 on my pain scale crept up to a 7?  And if it's supposed to be a 5 and not a 7, does that mean I'm worried over nothing?

A terrifying diagram of BV                   

I am pretty sure I'm not the only person to question whether the pain I experience is 'real'.  And I think the main reason I question this is not because of the newly learned information above, but because the medical profession rarely seems to take my ongoing pain seriously.   To give a recent example, since giving birth to Etta (nearly 5 years ago), sexual intercourse has been painful.  Initially, it was excruciating - penetrative sex was not really possible for the first six months post labour.  When I finally got brave enough to tell my GP he told me that bacterial vaginosis was the obvious cause of my pain.  Unsurprisingly*, his treatment plan for BV was only mildly helpful. But because he had physically examined me and found nothing obviously wrong previously, and because his manner made me doubt my pain was 'real', I was anxious about bringing it up again.

Since then, when asked about whether I needed birth control I have routinely said that because I am exhausted and it is painful, I don't have sex enough to justify using it.  On zero occasions has that elicited a worded response, or advice, from a single GP**.

My mother has suffered from debilitating abdominal pain for my entire living memory.  She had a full hysterectomy when she was younger than I am now in an effort to alleviate her pain, which later caused further complications.  When I told her I was writing this and asked for her input she said '..my abdominal pain*** is generally always ignored, not mentioned at all.  I have to bring it up and no-one has ever questioned me about it and my GP does not factor it in as a reason for me not being able to work but is happy to issue me prescriptions for pain relief every time I go.'

From the countless first-hand anecdotes, blog posts, articles and statistics I've read, our experiences are not unusual.  And as a common experience this does every person suffering from undiagnosed chronic pain a disservice.  Because aside from the obvious social outcomes**** of living with chronic pain, the physiological outcomes of chronic pain are massively under-rated.

Chronic pain affects almost every endocrine system in the body.  This can lead to changes in insulin glucocorticoid states.  What this means in regular speak is that ongoing pain changes how we metabolise lipids which affects the system that sends chemical messages through our bodies (via hormones).  This can lead to further health conditions including mental illness, muscle weakness, osteoporosis, diabetes and changes to metabolism - weight gain or loss.  Not only this, but recent studies have shown that chronic pain can lead to indolent hypertension and tachycardia, which in turn can lead to heart attacks and strokes. 

So living with chronic pain can (and does) literally kill people.

And, of course, pain is the body's way of telling us when something is wrong.  When you cut yourself chopping veges, you (usually) feel pain.  When you fall over trampolining and sprain your ankle, pain is one of the things that indicates the severity of your injury.  When you have appendicitis, sharp pain when pressure on the appendix is released indicates to medical professionals what their likely diagnosis is.

When we, or medical professionals, ignore that pain we can be missing the body's most obvious signal that something is wrong.  In most cases, pain is indicating a condition that is treatable, or at least, manageable.  In some cases, chronic pain is indicative of life threatening illnesses, like cancer.  In these cases, a late diagnosis could turn a treatable illness into a terminal prognosis.  When medical professionals ignore ongoing chronic pain they are ignoring the well-being of their patients.  Which seems pretty counter-intuitive to me.

*             *            *             *             *             *            *             *

So why isn't pain taken more seriously?

I'm going to postulate some theories here.  The first theory is backed my quite a bit of research and is something I've written about before.  Most of the examples I have of medical professionals ignoring pain are ignoring womens pain.  Studies have shown that women's pain is taken less seriously than their male counterparts.  Why is this?


Sexism.  I don't think I need to say much more than that.  Those old stereotypes that men are strong and are not allowed to show weakness affect how they are treated when they do.  If a man actually goes to the Dr it may be assumed he must be probably very ill, if not dying.  Conversely, the stereotype of women being hysterical, emotional and oversensitive could lead professionals to downgrade their first hand accounts of what his happening to their bodies.  Until we can push these old fashioned notions out the back door, I doubt we're going to see much positive movement forward in terms of better support of and higher diagnostic rates of womens issues.

       'Easy for you to explain'...

My other theory - based on personal experience alone - is that Drs just do not have time to talk to their patients to diagnose anything other than simple ailments.  I think this is why many people turn to more holistic treatments for help.  At a GP's office, a standard appointment slot is 15 minutes.  At an osteopath, homeopath or acupuncturist the usual amount of time for initial consult is an hour.  I think this is why, in spite of copious trips to the Dr complaining of chronic exhaustion at age 20, it was a homeopath rather than a Dr that thought to test for Epstein Barr virus.  So while the GP signed off on the bloods (because obviously homeopaths can't), I would never have gotten a fairly simple medical diagnosis if it were not for the homeopath asking a bunch of questions no Drs had bothered asking previously.

Basically, I think women's health issues often fit into the 'too hard' basket.  And because they do not have time and work in what is often a high stress environment, GP's will often just prescribe the pill and paracetamol and send us home.  For many gynecological conditions symptoms are inconsistent and not always presenting at the time of the consult*****.  But in these instances, women with recurring pain should be referred on for scans, and if still unresolved to gynecologists or gastroenterologist or urologists until a solution can be reached.  I wonder if the reason this doesn't happen is because the public health system is so overloaded Drs are discouraged from making referrals?  I can't think of many other logical reasons why this would happen.

And my final theory is that women don't always tell their Drs all of their symptoms.  This sounds stupid, but it can be hard to talk about pain - especially in areas we are not exactly encouraged to talk about.  Many of us are raised by stoic or prudish or shy parents.  We are also raised within a society that can't even talk about vulva's accurately.  This, combined with GP's not always asking as many questions as they should, is not a great equation for women's health.  I mean, if you've met me, you'll know I'm fairly forward, relatively educated and big on women's rights.  I still freeze when confronted by most medical professionals because I immediately feel I am somehow less than - unimportant.


And this patronising Dr doesn't make it any easier to want to talk
about vaginal discharge

It feels to me, as though you need to have an education on how the health system works to get any currency out of our current public health system.  Either that, or have private medical insurance and an education in health yourself.  This seems massively unjust.  And while I think a large part of the problem is financial, an equal part is social.  We need to know our rights.  We need to understand our bodies.  We need to feel valued enough to give our pain a voice.

* Just want to say I have had BV countless times and I knew it was not the cause of such extreme pain, but he was the Dr, so I humored him.

** I did get a sombre knowing nod from a female GP once, but no further engagement on the topic.

*** Mum has suffered sharp pain in the same specific place in her abdomen since her final ectopic pregnancy (she had three).  It is very likely given her medical history, that this pain is due to scar tissue forming in that area that has hardened.  Regardless, it has never (her pain) been validated by medical professionals.  She has still not been referred to the the pain clinic, when both of her brothers [pre Auntie Shaz's transition] who also have chronic pain conditions, were sent not long after diagnosis.


**** I think these should be fairly apparent, but just in case they aren't some of these may include anxiety, depression, addiction issues, insomnia, inability to participate in regular social activities, inability to go to work, inability to exercise, inability to participate in a normal family life, inability to exercise proper self care plus a tonne of other things.  Just think about the level of function you have when you are in pain, then try and imagine how that looks when you suffer that much all the time.

***** They tell us to try and come in when pain is presenting, but with long wait times and Drs with busy schedules, this is not always feasible.  And not everyone can just drop everything they're doing to drive to the Drs and wait for an indeterminate amount of time to maybe get some help.  And for those of us who have been disappointed by Drs countless times, it is hard to believe that, even if we do get there on time, it will make any difference in terms of getting an answer.


Sunday, 4 March 2018

Bah Humbug to the Census

I've (clearly) had trouble blogging over the last month.

This is in part due to my new annual project, which involves writing one short story a month.  Sounds simple - but given that up until January I'd only written one short story since maybe 1996, it's a good challenge for me but it does use up my time and energy.

But I digress.

The main reason I've struggled to blog is that I've been too angry to blog.  The post that sits half finished in my draft pile is about racism in New Zealand.  I wanted to post it in a timely fashion to all the recent shitty events that occurred earlier in the year but it just wasn't possible.  Because I was too angry to post something heartfelt and rational that would be a good idea to put on the internet.

And I'm still angry.  About racism still, but about something else too.  The census.  And on this issue my ideas are simple and communicable.  So you get a post!

I usually get excited about the census.
This year it just made me sad and angry.

The census is carried out every five years and the reason we have a census is because (from the website):  

'Information from the census helps determine how billions of dollars of government funding is spent across New Zealand.  Because the information we collect is about everyone in New Zealand, it can be used to inform decisions and make plans about services and where they should be, such as hospitals, kōhanga reo, schools, roads, and public transport.'

So the census is quite an important thing to take part in.  Also, according to the Statistics Act of 1975 we have a legal obligation to complete our census forms.

And honestly, that's ok with me.  We need to know about the people who live here to get the right services to those who need them most.  And I understand that personal obligation comes into this equation.  But the level of obligation required for this years census seems unfair to the point I feel that it doesn't give all Kiwis an equal opportunity to be counted.

The Auckland Council has started using 'gender diverse' as an option for sex on its surveys.  Because I do a lot of surveys online, I have become quite accustomed to seeing 'gender diverse' as an option.  And while previous censuses have not had gender diverse as an option, I do not feel that is a good enough reason to continue ignoring that these people exist.  If the Auckland Council can change, why can't Statistics New Zealand change too?

Because while I don't personally identify as gender diverse* I know a number of wonderful folk that do.  So when I see a form that determines how billions of government dollars are spent, and that people I care about cannot even be accurately represented, I get pissed.  Because, yet again, they are:
a) rendered invisible and
b) forced to conform to an identity which is not their own 

And it's not as though they don't need representation.  Folk in LGBTQI communities need more support!  Bullying, suicide rates, mental illness, addiction, sexual abuse, having the shit kicked out of them by strangers - these are all issues that affect folk in our LGBTQI communities at much higher rates than in most other communities.  And yes, only a small subsection of this community will identify as 'gender diverse'.  Nevertheless, denying gender diverse or intersex folk the basic right of being represented accurately is just plain wrong.

As a comparison, for religion there is a text box option in  which you can fill with the appropriate faith system.  If they didn't want to include gender diverse as an option, why could they not have added 'other' with a text box like they did for religion?  The counter argument here is, of course, that in the 2001 census we managed to have the highest population per capita of Jedi (as a religion) in the world**  So it's easy to skew the census results - particularly in a small country like New Zealand.  Even so, religion still has a text box option - but sex still does not.

As it is, I found in the Q&A section of the census: My sex is not male or female.  How should I answer the sex question? The answer given is that you should call them on their 0800 number to discuss this.  Why would anyone, for whom their gender or gender identity may have made life difficult, want to call someone to discuss how to describe their gender?  This does not appear to be a well thought out solution.

And while friends have said please, request the paper form so you can voice your displeasure, I have heard that the forms are processed electronically.  So even if you do voice your displeasure on the paper form it's highly likely your voice will go unheard regardless.

*           *          *           *           *          *           *           *          *           *           *          *          

The even bigger issue I have with this census is that for the first time it is to be conducted almost entirely online.  I understand that this is a much simpler (and cheaper) method of data collection.  But it also makes a huge, and misguided assumption that all New Zealanders have equal access to internet.  People in poverty cannot easily access internet.  Elderly people that are not computer literate cannot easily use the internet.  People in remote rural areas often still cannot even get internet.

Lets talk about these groups individually. 

People In Poverty 

So they can't afford internet at home - they can just go to their library.  But can they though?  People in poverty can't afford lunch or jackets for their kids.  If they don't live close to a library, how are they going to scrape together bus-fare or petrol money to get to the library?  But they can just post off the form to get a form sent out.  Um, same issue here.  Unless there is a post office within the route they revolve their daily lives around, how will they get there to post the form?  And how will they get there again to send the forms back in?  For some this would be twice as hard as getting to the library!

And how easy is it to use the computers in libraries anyway?  I can tell you our local library (Waitakere) has a wait list for computer time most, if not all, of the time.  As Henderson is a low income area with a growing rate of homelessness (many of whom bed down close to the library), this is one of the only places many folk can access the internet for free.  When Daryl Evans chief executive of Māngere Budgeting Services Trust tried doing his census at his local library he said 'what could have taken 20 minutes ended up taking an hour and 15 minutes "because the site just kept shutting".'

Where will this man get his census form from?
     Are they going to put it in his trolley?


How many homeless people do you know that have a letterbox?  How will they get their codes in the first place?  This is not a new issue.  But it is an issue that affects a larger proportion of New Zealanders than it did during the last census.  Currently, almost 1% of our population is homeless.  We have the highest rates of homelessness in the OECD.  And even if they desperately want to be counted to get the representation they desperately need, how do they get their census codes? And how do people with no permanent abode fill out the 'dwelling' section?

This is what my Mum has to say about this years census:
'It felt more like a caring nation when the census people came to your home.  It felt that you mattered.  Now it feels like society can't wait til the old, poor and disabled die out and then they won't be such a bother.'  I don't think it's hard to understand why she thinks this way.

The Elderly 

This is my Grandma.  She was on Family Feud!
Not only is she tech savvy, but she has good

family support.  Not all folk her age do though.

If they live in residential care - truly, there probably won't be too much of an issue.  Their care provider will likely do it for them.  Because it's kinda the rules (I think?  It is with voting).  But for the independent elderly that may not be as computer savvy as you or I - this may be difficult.  The good thing is that many of them will follow the instructions on the form they got in the post and request the physical forms.  But some of them won't.  Probably a fair chunk will say fuck it!  Why should I, with my arthritic hip/sore knee/busy voluntary schedule, go out of my way to do something for the government that didn't even bother to send someone here for me to talk to!

And for those who get to the library to give it a go - how many will manage to fill out the census online?  With ever decreasing library budgets, it's not like their are a lot of librarians on the floor these days to help those struggling to work the interweb.  And every time they do help someone with their census form that's one less librarian able to do the job they are actually paid for.  I think if I were a librarian this would make me feel a bit stressed and angry.  Most librarians have post graduate qualifications and a lot to do already.  How did this become their responsibility?


Isolated Rural New Zealanders

If you live somewhere like the central suburbs of Auckland, it's easy forget that Fibre isn't everywhere. Actually, broadband isn't everywhere and believe it or not, there are even some areas of New Zealand that have no internet at all.  For people in rural areas, completing an online form is just not possible unless they drive for 45 minutes and stand in a certain position at the top of a hill.  Seriously.  I am sure some of you don't believe me.  I recommend you get your arse to a remote spot in Northland and try to watch a Youtube video.


Of course, again, they can request paper forms.  But, again, this is a two part mission.  People in isolated rural areas will live a long way from post boxes, and may only head into town as needed.  It's not like they can just 'pop by the post office after work' - many of them work where they live - on farms.  And for dairy farmers, it's not always that easy to 'just pop out' with heavy workloads and twice a day milking.


Rural living in New Zealand - doesn't always come with internet
(Mosquito bay, near where I grew up in South Head.  Wireless here,
but not on the Woodhill Forest side.



There are other groups for whom this will not be easy - new immigrants, refugees, those with literacy issues (which make up 1% of our population).  But this post is already long.  So I will stop here.

*          *           *          *          *           *          *          *           *          *          *           *     

So why do I care?  I care because these groups need representation by the census.  I care, because I am concerned that some of our most in-need communities will miss out on funding.  Manurewa local board chair Angela Dalton said that (paraphrased): council receives 90% of its funding based on population count.  Counties Manukau Health figures showed it treated 24,7000 more people than Stats NZ estimated were living in the area, a shortfall of $50,000 in their health budget.  And that was from a census that was not carried out solely online.  I expect that with further lack of representation, under-funding will drastically escalate after the 2018 census.

I do not care selflessly.  This isn't just because poverty and lack of internet affects people I know and love.  This is because in the future, this shortfall will directly impact on myself and my family.  It will impact by way of longer hospital waiting lists, crowded classrooms, increased homelessness and all the other lovely things that accompany lacks in public funding.  The longer we live with rising income inequality, the more this eats away at our society.  And I have to live in that society.  As do we all.

The solution?  I am not 100% sure.  But to start, they could send folk around to pop in and check that everyone has their code, understands what to do with it, and is able to use it.  These days in suburban areas they could even carry an ipad with wireless and help them complete their forms.  They could ensure that there were codes available, and iPads on loan at the Salvation Army and City Mission for a period of time to make it possible for those living on the street to take part in this census.  They could have a system in place where runners could pick up filled in forms in rural areas on a set day.

Yes, all these ideas cost money.  But there are much greater costs.  And our children will be paying them.
Our kids are accounted in this census, but many other kids just like ours, will not be.


* My relationship with gender is complicated.  I believe strongly that gender is a social construct, and by this proxy I probably identify as female (cos feminist, advocate for woman's issues and equal rights etc).  However, I feel a binary view of gender is limiting within our current society - in which case I'd probably prefer to be viewed as non-binary.  But with nice tits.

** While I was sorely tempted to join the many in achieving this phenomenon, I opted for 'rock n roll' as my religion that year.

Friday, 2 February 2018

On Having A Busy Brain

Man I wish I could be like some of the people I know!

Me as a cadet... Photo taken by local reporter

I wish I could just choose one or two creative endeavors and just buckle down and be amazing at them.  It's never a thing I have been able to do.  Even at high school I struggled to balance school work with Cadets, a part time job*, a boyfriend, school plays and other extra curricula activities.  During my first year at University I also worked three jobs - concurrently, and managed a social life.  My life has always been more hectic than life seems like it should be.

But now I'm starting to rise from the sleep-deprived haze of parenting small children, I'm realising that aside from the kids, my life will probably always be hectic.

I wish this was not the case.  Because it's just logical to me that if you direct a good chunk of your time, thought and energy into one place then you will have more experience behind you to become really good at that thing.  Regardless of what that thing is.  Especially if it's something that's interesting to you (why would anyone bother with anything else?).  Whether it's parenting, or breeding roses or swimming.  Focus usually gets results.

And if you are focused on that one thing, when you aren't thinking about it your brain can maybe have a rest.  Watching a movie is relaxing.  Computer games are relaxing.  Reading is for fun, and maybe also relaxing.  Maybe when your brain has exhausted its focus on that one thing it will allow you to sleep at night.  And that would ensure you had more energy to refocus on that thing in the morning.

Me having a compulsory kanikani in the booth on Family Feud.  So fun!


I have never had focus.  And up until recently, I was fairly sure this inability to do just one (or two) things was a coping mechanism.  Always busy.  Seldom (but sometimes**) in the spotlight.  Excited about the prospects of multiple projects.  Happily rushing along wherever life has taken me.  And maybe this idea is right.  It makes sense given my background and mental health history.  But I recently started to think if maybe I'm supposed to be like this.

Grandin's books are always an interesting read

I've been reading a lot of Temple Grandin lately (after having enjoyed some other books on animal psychology) and am currently reading one of her most recent books on autism (as well her work with animals she is also very well known for talking about and investigating her own autism).  And it made me start thinking.  Obviously, initially about Etta, because despite this not being her diagnosis there are many things she shares with folk with ASD (in particular sensory issues, fixations and difficulty managing her own feelings).  But also in reading a generic checklist of sensory issues, I realised I tick a lot of boxes myself.

I think most people will probably relate to some of the issues.  But when I went through Grandin's list (very helpfully accompanied by management techniques) I realised there were two sections where I either struggled, or still struggle, with more than 50% of the things on the list (auditory processing and olfactory).  And this helped me realise how I crave over-stimulation: I struggle with quiet (usually have mindless TV in the background to soothe my mind), I have a slight obsession with foods and smells, I struggle to just sit still let alone stop talking.  I talk to myself constantly.  When I reflect on this It's not hard to see why I struggle to focus.  A constant hum seems to help me navigate the world but it's also very distracting. 

Patchwork - one of my favorite two player boardgames

So now I am considering that some of us are destined never to be great at one thing.  Because some of us can never just sit down and do one thing.  I have never been able to pick one creative endeavor I love more than any other.  I love writing.  I love cooking.  I love singing.  I love reading.  I love gardening.  I love drawing.  I love designing/making books.  I love photography.  I love animals and wine and board-games and knitting and film.  I cannot choose any one of those things that I love above any other.

And sometimes when I start working on one thing (knitting) it will automatically make me want to do another thing (making jam) because something about it will remind me of the other thing.  And then something about that thing (the colour of jam) will make me think about another thing (painting, or glass work or planting seeds) and then I will be off on a new tangent of passion.

Attack of the Karate Devils (2006) Knitted Painting

If someone asked me what my greatest talent was I would tell them that it was my ability to make connections between things.  Many aspects of education were simple for me because I remembered facts easily and could fit ideas together naturally.  And the reason I did well in writing essays was my ability to connect seemingly disparate things with ease.  It has aided me in everything - whether through making links between knitting and pixels, understanding how to structure layered incentive programs or writing info sheets for varying basic gut health issues.  Every one of those things came down to me connecting the dots.

So I think maybe I am not meant to be good at one thing.  Maybe I am meant to be interested in many things and use those varied interests to make connections.  Maybe those connections will somehow, at some point in time, be useful in some way.  Maybe they already are and I just don't know because my skill is not to recognise usefulness, but to just make connections.

I guess this is a form of self acceptance - I hope so.  I hope I'm not just excusing poor mental health management techniques.  I hope accepting being like this is ok.  And I think probably it is.  What I am working on now is creating structures so that I can at least get to the end point of creative endeavors rather than leaving them cluttering up computers and cupboards.

Plum and Crab-apple Jelly - just gorgeous!

I think most of the reason I prefer working collaboratively is that I have other people to answer to.  Being so far from my tertiary days in both time and life, collaborating with others is now trickier.  So I've started delegating people to be my 'boss' on certain projects so I can set deadlines that I (choose to) believe has an external affect.  They don't even have to do anything, read or see anything - they just have to pretend they're my boss so it creates the illusion that my self enforced deadlines matter.   

I've started setting short term, mid-term and long-term creative goals so that each year I can explore something exciting, whilst still plodding away at a constant practice (currently that's my Suburban Birds project), while having room for quicker turn around projects (jam, baking, crafts).

I'm hopeful that this will help me feel less envious of my talented peers.  And I'm hopeful that while I do not imagine my brain will ever not be busy, maybe instilling a little more order will help me feel calmer, and more able to watch movies for fun.

* OMG I loved this job so much.  It was just a cafe job but it truly has shaped me as a human being in so many ways that I am still grateful for it over 20 years down the track.  I am still so grateful for that time, and the people I met during that time, and how they grew me into who I am now.  It forged my love of cooking, food and counting money.  Cheesy I know, but still very true.

** When mental health allows it.  I love doing little bits of film, tv and ad work and love love LOVED being on Family Feud (have always wanted to be on a game show!)  I have been featured in varying publications over time for so many different things - advice on IBS and gut health, singing, making art, cadets.  Admittedly most of that has been about time and place though.  And dressing like a hipster before 'hipster' was a term is something that gets you noticed..

Friday, 12 January 2018

On having another silly accident

Happy New Year!

Sorry I haven't posted for a while.  Christmas is always a pretty busy time of the year for me with extra shifts at work, extra cooking and activities with the kids.  And this Christmas I also managed to do myself a small, but significant injury.

I am a mostly stay at home Mum.  I do also work part time with the lovely team at Stevens Westcity and we had a combined Christmas work dinner with Farmers at The Vodka Room.  Now while in my not so distant youth I partook in far more tipples than ever advised, since having children this has changed.  While I am partial to one or two glasses of wine I have only exceeded three glasses* on two occasions post-pregnancy - the Christmas work dinner was the second of these occasions.

   I'm a winner!  Wish I had a trophy though...

I had a most fabulous night!  I was friendly to all, gave useful advice ('just be the boss Amos!'), and encouraged everyone to get up onto the dance floor and shake it.  I even won the title of 'Best Dancer' (thus earning the nick-name at work of 'Dancing Queen') and scored me a movie gift card!  And, I managed to be home by 1am as had work the next day.


Buuuut, the other side of that was that in earning my supreme dancer award, I had a couple of falls.  I am not competent at walking in heeled shoes.  I am less competent in dancing in heeled shoes, and I am even less capable again (it turns out) at hootchie dancing in heeled shoes when intoxicated.  So I kinda fell over on my heels a few times.  And while none of these were serious falls, because of my fabulously unco nature, one of those falls resulted in an unexpected injury.

At the time - in spite of my intoxicated state - I knew I had hurt myself.  I had over-extended my thumb when putting my hand out to soften my fall and, having sprained a thumb before, this was precisely what I thought I had done.  It was a bit sore, but not terrible, so I got back to the business of getting down.

One very expensive taxi ride later I got home, bored Murray with tales of drunken shenanigans, and fell into a fairly solid slumber.

But when I woke up and looked at my right hand I got a fright.  Because it had swollen up like a turkey drumstick!

And I had to go to work.  I really didn't want to be that person who doesn't go into work the day after the staff Christmas do...  But I knew that if I'd seen this sort of swelling on anyone else I would make them go and get an x-ray.  So I showed Murray and he said the same thing.  So we reluctantly headed into Whitecross to get checked out.

A few hours later I had been triaged by a nurse, seen by a Dr and xrayed - and in spite of the scary face the nurse made when I saw her, my initial diagnosis was accurate - it was just a severely sprained thumb.  Phew!  I just had to wear a brace and rest it.  And I was only one hour late into work.

And while it is not a serious injury, it does make some things seriously difficult to do, including (but not limited to):
  • Driving                                                            
  • Carrying small children                  Couldn't write, but could still catch a baby bird...
  • Brushing your teeth
  • Brushing your hair
  • Brushing your kids teeth and hair**
  • Putting cloth nappies on wriggly toddlers
  • Cleaning toilets
  • Hanging out washing (possible, but slow cos must do left handed)
  • Washing cutlery or really dirty dishes
  • Chopping vegetables
  • Pouring pints
  • Opening tins
  • Opening drinks
  • Opening doors
  • Eating without looking like a cave person
  • Writing
  • Drawing
  • Wrapping Christmas presents
  • Putting together kitset furniture
  • Making jam
  • Wiping your bum
  • Opening (and inserting) tampons...
  • Not smashing things (at home and at work...)
Lucky for me, this isn't my first time at the injured-at-Christmas rodeo

Consequently, (unlike when I did my ankle) I pulled back all my usual plans for Christmas crafts and just stuck with the basics.  Rather than baking a million things - I just made fudge and jam.  And I outsourced the gingerbread baking to my Mum (who was legendarily helpful in the first annoying week of recovery).  I still made our Christmas calendar - luckily typing requires little dexterity, so using the computer and editing images has been ok provided I do it in small blocks.  And this meant I maintained my sanity for Christmas, which meant both me and my family could still enjoy it!

The other positive was that I have discovered that I am more ambidextrous than I previously realised.  Shortly after arriving to work immediately following my trip to Whitecross, I realised that I had to do a promo changeover at the end of that shift.  Part of this entails using a large special stick to remove, then replace signage which hangs from the ceiling.  And I thought, oh fuck - how will I do this?  I couldn't hold anything with my right hand at all.  So before one of my colleagues left for the day I gave it a go left-handed - and realised that actually, it was simple because actually,  for some reason I always change the signs over left handed and just use the right hand as a prop.  Weird.

Then the next day I realised what a blow this would be to my newfound drawing practice.  So I did what any determined and sensible person would do - I started drawing with my left hand.

This was my first drawing:



While it was difficult to do (brain make other hand do stuff not used to hard) and difficult to sit with, the different quality of the line was really interesting.  I felt quite proud.  I wish I could say I've done heaps of them, but at the moment there are only four drawings and one painting due to usual holiday time and energy constraints.  But nonetheless, it's been really exciting and I will definitely do more.

The other thing is this:


Um, I have a tan.  Impossible to tell usually given my pallor, but actually, like a watch tan, I have a brace tan to prove I could be even whiter***.  Damn I'm hilarious!

So I feel like I've taken this injury in stride better than on previous occasions.  I managed to only miss one hour of work (and only because of the wait times at Whitecross), and only had one extra day of childcare to help manage things for Christmas.  I did have to beg a few rides to and from work as have only just started driving again (I'm only just able to properly grip things again without pain).  So I'm feeling like the master of my injuries.

Which is good, because many people didn't even notice I was injured!  When I saw my old boss and hassled him about not noticing, he said it was because he'd seen me in a brace so often when I used to work for him.  Which made me realise that this was correct.  I used to be in a similar brace very often in the past for my RSI a lot of the time.  Which made me realise that my RSI has been really good the last few years.  Which is awesome!

And that maybe all those previous times in the brace are why I can do so many things left handed and coped so well this time.

So yeah, turns out these days coping with injury is actually totally in my wheelhouse.

It's good to have skills.


Drawing skills, dancing skills, bird catching skills, falling skills... Skilled.

* Please know this is no judgment on parents who do choose to partake in greater quantities.  I just can't.  I have anxiety and can be a bit hyper-vigilant when it comes to looking after my kids (hence needing to fly to another city to have a proper rest).  Consequently, I don't like putting myself into the position of not being in a good state to look after them.  Also, I have seen hungover parents of small kids and it looks like the least fun thing to do ever.  Luckily for me, on this occasion I just had to go to work (far easier to do hung over than looking after small children).

** It took Murray about a week to realise how feral the kids had gotten and that he might need  to learn how to brush their hair...

*** And makes me aware I need to apply way more sunblock.