Brain Injury Websites

Some links to brain injury related websites:

http://www.accc.gov.au/content/index.phtml/itemId/289177/fromItemId/815972/quickLinkId/816544/whichType/sng

http://braininjury.org.au/portal/

http://www.biansw.org.au/

My Brain Injury Problems & Solutions

My brain injury is classified as mild and as such I acknowledge how hard it was/is for those who have a more severe injury than mine. I found my own experience to be devastating, rewarding, depressing, enlightening and a great source of amusement.

Problem: Short term memory loss.
Every morning I woke up and did not know what day it was. Every day-sleep I woke from was just as confusing. Was it morning or afternoon? Was I alone or were the family at home? I often had to be asked the same question twice because I couldn't remember it the first time. I would be telling someone something and forget what I was talking about half way through. I had word finding difficulties. I bird flew towards the Lovely Husband and I one day until it realised we were there and at the last minute swooped away. "Stupid fish!" says I. I had trouble remembering new faces and new information did not sink in to that soft, spongy blob in my skull.

Solution: The Caring Counsellor advised me to keep a diary. Every morning I got up and checked the diary to see what day it was and was I supposed to be doing anything with that day. Eventually I would repeatedly say the name of the coming day in my head before going to sleep at night. I also keep a notebook and write things down. I have become the most "listed" person I know. If I needed to go to town I would have to write down the places I needed to go and in the exact order I wanted to do it in. These days I still need a list but the exact order is not necessary. I cross off what is complete and check and sometimes recheck my list.

Problem: Fatigue.
I was tired 100% of the time. When I had not rested enough I would become wobbly on my feet and need to hold on to something or someone so as not to fall over. I would become agitated and upset because my already compromised brain function would become even more impaired. Fatigue leads to all other problem areas. The brain controls all and so when it is fatigued all other issues become exaggerated.

Solution: My Caring Counsellor advised me that reading and watching TV/movies was not a form of resting your brain. Your brain is obviously working when you read and following a story line on the TV. Sleep and silence was the answer. Once I understood this it made a difference to my every day life. I did not find it easy to do, not being a daytime sleeper but it was absolutely essential and, to a lesser degree, still is. Accepting that I had limits was bloody hard and I still occasionally muck that up. I am stubborn after all.

Problem: Light and noise sensitivity.
Sunlight and excessive internal lighting was too much for my delicate sensibilities. Excessive noise was equally hard on me, and still is to a slightly lesser degree.

Solution: At home the family learned that the music or television or their personal noise levels, if too loud, would agitate me and my mood would quickly change. I learnt that a shopping centre was the worst place for me. All the extravagant lighting, the general noise bouncing off all those surfaces and the usually busy shoppers was way too much for my brain to deal with. Sensory overload! I avoided these centres and if I needed to shop I would do so in the outdoor or open street shops. I carried ear plugs for unexpected situations. I avoided peak hour and busy shopping times. Early morning was the best.

Problem: Problem solving, decision making and concentration.
If I was going to cook dinner but was missing an ingredient, no matter how minor, I was flummoxed. I could not work out an alternative. If my plans were interrupted or diverted in any way I became confused and did not know what to do next. If someone asked me a question or talked to me while I was doing something eg. cooking, I would end up not being able to cook and not comprehend what they were saying. Two things in my head was one too many. How male of me.

Solution: On Sunday nights I make a menu for the week. On a piece of paper I will write the day eg. Monday, under that on the left side I write the name of the meal I will be making eg. spaghetti bolognaise. On the right side opposite this I write what ingredients I need. Eg. spaghetti, mince etc. I obviously check if I have any ingredients already and if so it does not make the list. I phone the Lovely Husband at work and he brings home what ingredients I need. This has reduced my stress levels significantly and it saves money too.
If I was in town and an unexpected incident threw my plans skewiff, I would ring my Lovely Husband, usually in a state of anxiety, and after telling him my problem, which was quite often very minor, he would explain the best way to deal with it. He was very patient and always understanding and he saved my sanity many times.
The children took a while to understand that they could no longer come to me while I was doing something and immediately launch into a story or question me expecting an immediate answer. I either stopped doing what I was doing and listened or they would have to come to me later when I was free. With my friends and family I had to explain the situation and occasionally, gently remind them and it was all sorted. If people understand the situation they are more often than not happy to oblige you.

Problem: Unsteady or wobbly on my feet.
This was quite significant in the first few months of my situation. When I had been concentrating too long or had been too physically active my balance would give me grief and I needed to hold onto something still and steady to stop from falling over. (I discovered my daughter was not still and steady and so lousy as a leaning post).

Solution: The obvious thing was to hold onto the person closest to me, a wall or a piece of furniture. Amongst friends and family this could be made light of but I was always self conscious of it when out in public. One day my tired old brain hit upon an idea to buy one of those upright shopping trolleys on wheels you often see the aged take around with them. The beauty of this was that I did not have to carry any bags, the trolley carried quite a lot of weight and if I was to become wobbly it was the perfect secret way to stop me from falling down. I would sit it on its stand and just hang on to it. Looking ever so cool and steady with my trendy old person's, bright red tartan shopping trolley. I am sure I was the envy of other people my age who did not possess one of these fashion must-haves. It even had that three wheel design for going up and down stairs. Woohoo!

Problem: Anxiety, depression and insomnia.
Unfortunately this came with the territory. I have had depression in the past and according to the Caring Counsellor this made me statistically more likely to get it during this difficult time. The anxiety was understandable in the circumstances. Being not in control of your abilities or lack thereof is a stressful thing. There were hours and sometimes days of tears, there were periods of extreme anger and frustration. More than once I lined my head up to drive it into the wall (but knew I never would).

Solution: The Caring Counsellor saved my sanity. She gradually, over the weeks, advised me, gave me more information and watched and listened to me. She was in contact with my doctor (with my permission) and he in turn saw me regularly. For my part I had to share my feelings with them, tell them about my down times. This was essential. My doctor, a very thorough man, established that I was in fact suffering emotionally and to counter my insomnia and anxiety/mild depression put me on half dose anti-depressants. This medication helped me sleep and took the edge off my anxieties when dealing with the world. It helped me face every day challenges with a new courage. I was sent to a psychologist who, apart from giving me techniques to manage my negative feelings, also helped me deal with my mild phobia of dentists! That was a bonus.

My Lovely Husband was a rock! He helped me, defended me against those who would not try to understand, he was there for me every down time and up. My children adjusted quickly to new responsibilities and became my caring helpers. They made sacrifices because I was unable to manage any new activities they wished to take on and social outings were restrictive and very mild. They eventually considered my disability automatically when arrangements needed to be made or social situations were at hand.

My friends, some of whom have had their own difficulties in life, were instrumental in my mental well being. They are great listeners. The one piece of advice that I should have listened to earlier was "Be kind to yourself". Another one was "Allow yourself to grieve for what you have lost". I have learnt that it is OK to be sad or angry or frustrated (obviously for a prolonged period is not good).
I allow myself to feel.

Update on the Baby Fruit Bat

The baby bat rescued from our power lines has been adopted by an adult bat of a different breed who is also in the care of the WIRES carer. The mother bat had been rescued but had obviously lost a baby because she was lactating. Apparently she took to the baby immediately, wrapped her wings around it and has been feeding her ever since.

The mother is a black bat the the baby a grey headed bat. It is nice how they accept each other isn't it?

Embarrassing Moment No 148 by Offspring

There was a time, quite a few years ago, when my daughter would regularly ring the radio station of a morning to answer a set question in the hope of winning a prize. One morning the question was "How have your parent(s) embarrassed you?"

To set the scene here, pre-injury I was an enthusiastic work Christmas party attendee. My workmate and I would try and outdo our efforts of the last year's party. The creative process was nearly as much fun as the party. As you can see by these two examples we did quite well.

Anyway, my young daughter's answer to the DJ's question, heard by all who were listening that morning, was........"My mum and her friend (named her) like to put on wigs and dress up in gowns and go out at night". The DJ was delighted. He asked her what sort of wigs? Oh beehives and stuff. I heard this on the radio in another room of the house and immediately thought that I sounded like a prostitute.

When I asked at work that day if anyone had heard it, another workmate hooted, she thought that the child had been talking about a prostitute too. A few people knew who the child was and thought it very funny.

The big mouthed daughter won the prize that day and I was to accompany her to the radio station to pick up her prize. I threatened to wear my beehive during this process but I did wonder if she had won just so they could see this mother of the night.

My Brain Injury Part III - The Hard Facts

Acquired Brain Injury. Traumatic Brain Injury. Closed Head Injury. These have all been used to describe my brain injury. I would like to add Acquired Traumatic Emotional Injury.

Before my brain injury I was an independent, strong willed and busy person. Have I mentioned that I am stubborn too? I worked three days a week, I helped out at our little country school, I was in the Parent Support Group of the cubs/scouts, I was a driving force behind a small local newsletter and like most parents I drove the children to all manner of sports and after school commitments/social gatherings. I rode my horse three times a week. I was busy to the point of stress sometimes but accepted it as parenthood. I rarely, if at all, asked for help. I was too proud and thought it a weakness not to be able to cope.

In one small moment all of that was no more.

After accepting I would not be "cured" in a matter of days I immediately quit the volunteer commitments. That felt strange but not terrible. I was too busy before anyway. My employer would give me time to recover and come back when it was possible.

The hardest thing about this change in my life, and I cannot express just how hard it was for me, was to ask for help. I needed it. I feel the anxiety of it now as I write this, even after all this time. I could not get the kids the 1km to school (busy country road with no footpath) or their after school activities in town. We live on a small property about 9km from town and there is no public transport. My Very Good Neighbour started to walk the children to school but the bus driver found out and offered to pick them up from her driveway every day. My Very Good Neighbour also took my daughter to her Irish dance classes once a week. Our friends became hockey mum, cub/scout dads and mums. I also had friends who were the 'get-me-out-of-the-house-for-while' committee. My family and friends transported me to appointments, visited me, understood my lack of comprehension and organisation. The care and understanding my immediate family and I received was humbling and amazing and beautiful.

Emotionally it was oh so tough. Frustration, impatience and defeat, all of which I felt acutely. Why was this happening to me? Why is it taking so long?

My emotions were erratic. When I was over-fatigued I was cranky and/or teary. I had trouble making decisions and problem solving. One of the organisations I used to volunteer with had difficulty understanding my lack of enthusiasm for their needs. I had no bandage, I was not limping, I appeared to be normal except I would no longer help out. They became unhappy with me and in turn I found their lack of understanding upsetting. Brain injury is considered the "invisible injury".

Simple things like working out how much change I should receive when purchasing goods, following a story line in a novel and keeping up with the number of characters within did not happen in my brain. I read one of the Harry Potter books during this early time but had to reread it at a later date to remember what happened. Coping with conversations with more than one person or verbal instructions were quite impossible. Traffic that was not flowing and line-ups in shops etc were a cause for stress.

My confidence took a nose dive! My happiness bar dropped significantly. I had insomnia and with that came extreme anger. I became verbally abusive to myself and inanimate objects around me. Anxiety and guilt at having to use my family and friends to help me out were consistent. And all this with a MILD brain injury. It is difficult to imagine what the people with severe or moderate brain injury go through.

Not once did I think that all this would not pass. I knew I would recover, I would return to my previous life (albeit with a new appreciation of it) and this would all become just an unpleasant memory. I told you I was stubborn.

I was wrong. Apparently in a small percentage of mild brain injured people there is a complication known as Post Concussive Disorder. This means that the person does not make a full recovery and is left with some symptoms that either do not resolve or gradually and mildly improve over years. Bingo! Lucky me. The one symptom I did not want to be stuck with was fatigue. Bingo again! My fatigue is still significant and I have at least 1.5 hours rest/sleep every afternoon. I still cannot concentrate for long periods of time and I have very mild short term memory and problem solving skills deficits.

All in all, I am doing pretty darn well really. These days I am happy and involved in life at a scaled down level. My family and friends stuck by me and I will be forever grateful. The Human Resources Manager with my employer never once pressured me or doubted me while I was recovering. I work three half days a week and sometimes I cannot manage even that but again there is support and understanding. I am the luckiest 'head case' I know and my friends have teased me, joked with me and continue to make me happy.

I AM A BETTER PERSON THAN I WAS BEFORE THE INJURY. I have more compassion for others, I have empathy and understanding. I don't have time for bull**** or people who are insincere or mean. Life is as it is and we should live it.

My Exclusive Get Fit Program

So here I present my Get Fit Program. To the right is the equipment known as the Hill Climb. It is punishing and unforgiving especially to an unfit lump like me.

Above the Hill Climb are my trusty, multi-purpose Blundstones. The good old Australian work boot that gets me to the top of the Hill Climb and is not bothered by cow poo, mud, thistle or ground dwelling bities and eaties.

Above left and middle are my gym workout footwear (or lack thereof) and my gym ball and weights. Very versatile and used with total randomness (is that a word?) and abandon. Unfortunately the strawberry jam has been opened and refrigerated so I need a new one. I think I will get plum next time.

Then there are the training partners: greyhound and staffy. Very encouraging, a little erratic in direction at times and easily bribed but they are my inspiration. Will drive me to distraction if they have not been walked for a while.

The cat couldn't give a damn whether I exercise or not.

Grandpa Koala

I was photographing pink flowers in our front paddock when my Piece of Poop (horse) alerted me to this old fella' sitting quietly amongst the dead wood. The mare was feeling a bit jumpy even though we regularly have koalas in our trees and, I assume, on the ground to move from tree to tree. He looked old and arthritic and I think his eyes are becoming cloudy. The Piece of Poop did not accept his presence willingly and snorted and paced until the poor old koala gave up and reluctantly moved on.

My Brain Injury Part II - Denial & Confusion

You know in the movies and television shows how someone cops a blow to the head, passes out and then at the appointed time recovers and continues the fight or adventure as if nothing happened? Or in the older shows where someone cops a blow to the head, passes out, wakes up with amnesia and then another blow to the head at the end of the show and they are miraculously cured?

To continue my saga........

I missed work for about 2-3 days, I cannot remember anymore but I know I was tired all the time. My brain did not seem to want to function methodically. I was unsteady on my feet. I was unsure of so many things but all along I apparently knew I would come good any time now.

I drove to work one morning. I noticed that when I got out of the car I was quite wobbly. That's OK, my job involves sitting and typing medical reports.

I sat at my desk alongside my workmates and commenced typing. I have been a medical typist since 1987, I find it quite interesting and usually enjoy it. This morning nothing seemed to make sense. I was hearing the dictation through my earphones and understood but the fingers were not receiving the right message and my typing did not correspond accordingly. I tried ever harder to concentrate to correct this weird phenomenon but after about 15 minutes my computer screen seemed to be "swimming" in front of me. I stood up and nearly fell down.

I drove home, very disappointed. I decided to try again after another day's rest. I returned to the doctor and was given another medical certificate. He told me about a local brain injury rehabilitation service and gave me a pamphlet. I thought that was an overreaction.

Again I drove to work, wobbled to my desk and again I lasted, this time, a whole 20 minutes. What the hell? I was quite confused and must not have seemed totally coherent. A workmate asked me how I was getting home and I honestly had not the foggiest idea. Someone very kindly drove me home and the Lovely Husband and a friend collected the car later.

Again I went to the doctor, this time he gave me a week off. I was very upset. I felt so not in control. I even had the Lovely Husband drive me to the brain injury service and I picked up some more pamphlets. Someone offered to sign me up but I told them it was only a temporary situation, thanks anyway.

It took three days to get over my attempt at work. Three days of fatigue beyond belief. I felt sick in the stomach, I could not walk straight, I could not remember things I had said or heard moments before or what day it was. I slept several times during the day. In the words of my teenagers, IT SUCKED. It was very upsetting.

I contacted the brain injury service and they took my details. A counsellor would come and see me at my home at an appointed time. I hoped I was not overreacting. The counsellor came one morning. She was so nice and patient. She gave me more written information and we talked about my issues. The Caring Counsellor did advise me to take more time off work but I did not take that advice on board. I just knew that my brain would be like a muscle and just needed to be exercised back into the saddle (so to speak). She tried very gently to tell me not to drive but I was not listening to that either. When I look back at this all now I realise how bloody stubborn I was.

A week later I tried to work but again the same result. I felt defeated.

I started listening to the Caring Counsellor. I stopped driving. She recommended I take an extended period off work. I had to start dealing with my brain injury and it was challenging. Over the following weeks I would see the Caring Counsellor at my home once a week and she would gradually give me more information and advice and I would eventually learn that what I was experiencing was typical of the brain injured.

I did not drive or work for the next six months. I had some very frustrating and depressing times and I had some uplifting and happy times. I learnt a lot about myself and my friends and family but I will elaborate on this in another post.

Transylvanian Naked Necks

These chickens are just gorgeous aren't they?
They have quite a few feathers less than your average chicken, to make it easier to pluck apparently. They are heat and cold resistant and very calm. We have laying hens as well who are very efficient but I consider these little beauties to be REAL chickens. They are a hardy bird. We had some of them years ago. We had a bad time with foxes then and one of our roosters survived two fox attacks. And the name, who wouldn't love to own chickens with a name like this.

Baby Fruit Bat on the Wire

This is a little two week old grey headed flying fox or fruit bat. It was hanging from our power line for about 24 hours. I thought at first it was dead but the dead don't generally move and when we opened our squeaky old gate it answered and kept calling for its mum. I called WIRES, the local wildlife rescue service and they in turn called our power company who came and rescued it using a "hot stick". A long, telescoping, plastic pole with a towel wrapped around the end to represent a bat mum. The baby latched onto it and was then brought safely down to earth. It will be hand reared and eventually released by the carer. So cute and yet so ugly all at once. My daughter had named it Dracula but it turned out to be female so the carer is naming it after me. Perhaps I am cute and yet so ugly too? The Lovely Husband says that there is now two batty people of the same name in this country. Oh ha ha.

Just when you thought it would be safe.....

I was in the chemist today getting some vitamins and I heard a woman ask the assistant for some help. Apparently she has a daughter with a head injury who is struggling with the pain. It shook me a little I have to say. I am very lucky to have no pain whatsoever with my brain injury but I have to feel for this woman and her daughter having to deal with this. The mother did not look old enough to have an adult daughter and I was so tempted to make myself known to her but I chickened out. I payed for the vitamins and left. I nearly turned around and returned to the woman several times but when I was in the crowd I had forgotten what she looked like or what she was wearing. (Short term memory?). I hope they are getting as much support as I had.

My Favourite Kids' Joke

HOW DO YOU KNOW WHEN A MOTH FARTS?

IT FLIES STRAIGHT FOR A SECOND!!

(It's the only one I can remember too).

My Brain Injury Part I - The New Sensation

As I have said in my introductory blog it was a horse riding accident that changed my life completely. I don't remember coming out of the saddle, I don't remember hitting my head on the ground the first time but I remember my head on the up bounce and landing gently back on the ground. The air left my lungs with a groan, my ribs hurt and I remember trying to cover my mouth with my hand in the mistaken idea that I needed carbon dioxide to get my breathing going again, (that was for hyperventilation not winding you goose). I passed out. When I woke I felt woozy. My ribs hurt a lot now and I wasn't sure what to do. I checked my watch and realised I had been unconscious for up to 10 minutes. Before the dramatic exit from the saddle I had checked my watch and decided I had time for another round of the paddock. My horse thought otherwise obviously.

I could see the Piece of Poop grazing happily not far from me and knew I had to get on my feet. My legs worked, my ribs hurt but gradually I was up. The world seemed a little hazy but I wanted to get home.

I approached the Piece of Poop and she allowed me to climb into the saddle as if nothing had happened between us. I had to ride home because I didn't feel as if my legs would carry me that distance. It was a very mellow trip home through two gates and past the mailbox.

I felt a tad tired by now and decided to relax in front of the TV. All was OK until my vision started to swim. I got out our home medical book and decided to seek advice.

Head Injury:

Unconsciousness? SEE DOCTOR NOW.

It's only one symptom.

Patient cannot remember injury? SEE DOCTOR NOW.

Yeah yeah, I don't think so.

Visual problems? Lethargy? SEE DOCTOR NOW.

Groan, OK I better act on this.

So much for taking advice, it was not what I wanted to hear. I contacted my doctor's office and they told me to get myself to hospital straight away. I phoned my neighbour and asked her if she could please collect my children, then aged nine and 12, who got off the school bus at her place, and drive me to hospital. I phoned the Lovely Husband and told him about it. He was about 40 minutes away and would meet me at the hospital. My very good neighbour grabbed some afternoon tea for the Short Ones and came and collected me.

I assured my neighbour that it was OK to just drop me off at A & E and against her better judgement she did just that. As I approached the hospital doors I needed one of the Short Ones for support because my legs seemed a little unco-ordinated. It seems that people with head injuries and that need to hold onto the counter so that they don't fall over get seen to pretty darn quick. Alright! I'll be outa' here soon enough. I have to say at this point that the young doctors in Emergency are very nice and thorough but the equipment they are forced to use is bloody pathetic. This poor young doctor went through four ophthalmoscopes before he found one that worked long enough to look into my eyes. And that one was held together with sticking plaster and he had to hold it in just the right way so it would stay on. I had a CT of the head which turned out to be normal. (The sometimes Lovely Husband laughed at that one of course). I spent a total of four hours in observation. The Lovely Husband took the Short Ones home and came back for me later. The hospital staff were supposed to take an x-ray of my ribs but forgot and I did not remind them, I just wanted to go home.

This was a Thursday night and we had planned a long weekend away with friends to the mountains starting the next day. It was mid winter and we were going to play tourist and climb an almost mountain, bush walk, eat, drink and be merry. On discharge the doctor told me I could still go but "probably shouldn't drive". I could handle that.

I had no concept of what a brain injury would mean to me at this stage, yes I felt unwell, unsteady and I was in a kind of haze but I had no head pain and I was quite relaxed and lucid.

Early the next morning two carloads of us travelled to the mountains. The road is steep and windy and at every bend I had to hold my ribs firmly with my hands. At every stop and start, bump and swerve I had to hold my ribs. But otherwise I was OK. The trip takes about two hours and we arrived in the crispy cold of the mountain town we were staying in. We played tourist; lookouts, bit of bush walking (or in my case bush wobbling), historical sites and then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt ill and beyond tired. My head was spinning and all I wanted to do was lie down. Someone took me back to the house we were staying in and I slept for an hour or so. Maybe this brain of mine was not as quite OK as first thought.

I did not climb the almost mountain, I had a hot chai latte in the local park with one of our other party who has emphysema. We read the paper and people-watched. I did not drink any alcohol. I did not manage a game of Upwords (I could not find any words in all those letters). But we had a lot of fun and I came back home holding my ribs which were hurting even more now.

I did not go to work on the Monday as planned but went to the local doctor who gave me a few days off work and an x-ray of my ribs which were not broken. It would turn out that a "few days" would not be nearly enough time.

And so began the interesting journey of recovery but that is for another post.

Our Local Echidna

This echidna very kindly allowed my to follow it from fence post to fence post while it searched for and ate black ants. My trusty camera and I got some photos and film, although the film is a bit shaky. I have a mild tremor and when I say amateur photography, I mean amateur. He/she was very calm and co-operative.

My Favourite Husband

I want to tell you about my man. He's a bit of all right really. I tell him he is my favourite husband and he laughs at the many of them I do not have to choose from. I have known him since the 70s as he was a friend of my older brother but I became friends with him when I left the country town I lived in to move to the Big Metropolis to find work.

I left home at 17 and moved into a no bedroom flat with an old friend, also from the same town. She had a normal bed and I a fold-up bed in the lounge room of the ground floor flat in a converted mansion. Our kitchen was under the stairwell of the upstairs flats and so our ceiling was quite sloped. Our bathroom was large but had the upstairs plumbing hanging from the ceiling (which was good to hang clothes on in wet weather). We loved it. Independence, freedom, no rules and no money.

For social reasons we decided to join my brother's Rover troop (scouts for young adults) and became fast friends with all the blokes there. We had many adventures together, lots of laughs and the occasional party. The future Lovely Husband was in this particular group and at that stage I considered him nothing more than a good friend.

When I was 19 I was renting with an aunt in the same building (this time an upstairs flat - my third in this building). I was dating a really nice bloke who was a lot older than me. It was stated from the very beginning of the relationship by me that it was just a fling; fun but not long term. When he started talking about our future together I knew it was time to jump ship. It was a shame really, I was really enjoying the relationship. The future Lovely Husband was unaware of my current status and asked me out by phone. At first I was very surprised and when I thought about it I was thrilled. So a plan was set. I had a date with Nice But Delusional at the end of the week and I decided it would be our last.

I was a very busy teenager at that point in my life. On Wednesdays after work I would catch the train to the ice skating rink and skate from 6 to 10pm. Afterwards a group of us would go to a small club for pool (or snooker, I can never remember which) until late. Thursday evenings I had field hockey training for two hours. Fridays after work I would go to TAFE, I was studying animal care, until 9pm. Nice but Delusional would pick me up at 9 and we would go out. Unfortunately he had brought me half a dozen red roses this night (oh the guilt) and we had an excellent date. I did manage to end the relationship, very gently and very clearly and he took me home.

Saturday morning was grocery shopping time, Saturday afternoon the hockey game and so finally Saturday night, the date with the Lovely Husband To Be, who we really should just call Lovely Man at this stage because I was definitely not setting my sites on getting married any time soon.

He took me to a basement bar to see Swanee, the band headed by John Swan, brother of Jimmy Barnes. John Swan was absolutely stonkered and not very entertaining. He tried but failed to sing well but staggered and fell down beautifully. I was guilt ridden and told the Lovely Man about Nice But Delusional. He bought me vodka and orange drinks and it wasn't long before, after a physically draining week, burning the candle at both ends, I fell asleep at the table. WHAT A FIRST DATE! Poor man, must have thought his luck had dropped out. Anyway, he took me home early but I must have been mildly entertaining as he asked me out again.

We dated for about a year but broke up due to irreconcilable differences. In other words we wanted different things from the relationship and finished it quite amicably. It had been a great 12 months which involved lots of laughs. I believe being friends is a big part of any relationship. We both got on with our lives and remained slightly awkward friends.

After about a year I was living in a different building, same suburb, sharing with my younger brother who had just moved to the Big Metropolis for work. Bit of a pattern there what eh? (My older sister remained in the country and did very well). My little brother (he is a lot taller than me) and I always got on well and enjoyed sharing the unit. It was furnished with second hand furniture, scavenged goods from council clean-up days and a stray rabbit called Roast

One day I got a call at work from the Lovely Man asking me over for dinner. I knew it was right. We were meant to be together. AND he cooked my favourite, apricot chicken. How did he know? He didn't actually.

The second first date was a success and we must have dated for about six months before we got engaged.

What happened to Nice But Delusional? For the three weeks following the demise of our relationship he rang me most days at work (an office in the city) wanting to see me. Not the act of a man who had supposedly been having a fling. Big wimp that I am did not have the heart to tell him I was already in another relationship, I thought that a big cruel. But after three weeks I met him for lunch and told him about the Lovely Man's existence and I never heard from him again. Ahhh, to be so popular. Ahhh the romance of it all. Ahhh I am gonna' throw up.

The Lovely Man and I were married in May (autumn) in Japanese Gardens by a celebrant. I am not a particularly romantic person and the details leading up to the wedding did not concern me overly. I would have been happy with a private affair personally but my Mother of the Stubborn Kind was very excited and insisted on many things as did the Lovely Man's family. I went with the flow.

The wedding night was spent in a fancy schmancy high rise hotel, organised by the Lovely Husband, the details of which will not be shared here except to say beware of gift baskets full of a variety of expensive chocolates labelled "Congratulations on Your Wedding". I assumed these were complimentary with the room and so at 2am was sitting cross legged on the bed devouring some of them and would pack the rest to take away with us. Some weeks after the wedding we received an account in the mail for some ridiculous amount for the aforementioned chocolates. Poo Bum Wee. How rude.

We honeymooned in Tasmania, a most beautiful island. The Lovely Husband had organised it all with great care so was slightly shocked when we arrived at our first night in a 4 star motel to find the bed linenless (I know, it is not a real word) and the bathroom as yet untiled and smelling of newly dried cement. It was the only booking he made, the rest of the 10 days would be spent in random B & Bs which were to be fantastic. He had hired a car, a sporty number, the make long since forgotten. He left on foot the next morning to collect it. When a topless, shiny red sports car pulled up in front of our motel room I was thrilled. When the Lovely Husband parked next to it in a long wheel base four wheel drive I was less than thrilled. We had been upgraded due to availability. Upgraded? At this stage I hated 4WDs. The Lovely Man had had one when we were dating. A 60 series Nissan. He loved it and it showed. He drove it like a Ferrari which does not bode well for the passenger not holding the wheel for support. In winter, when he put the heating on, it would scald any hairs that remained on one's legs. Without heater it was as drafty as a tent without doors. In summer, the heat of the engine would make one's previously scalded and hairless legs sweat.

Here we were on our honeymoon with a ruddy great truck. OK, not a truck but a bloody big car. He felt quite nervous, especially when he saw the lovely red number parked next to said truck. As it turns out, we humans are quite adaptable. The truck in question had power steering, air con and the view from the seats was a lot better than it would have been in a low slung sports car. The Lovely Husband likes to joke about how he had trouble getting me out from behind the wheel. I cannot deny the enjoyment I had from driving this non-drafty, hairy leg friendly vehicle.

We have been married 22 years, had lots of ups and downs, some great adventures and of course the laughs. Always the laughs.

Ken the Rooster

Ken had a life in suburbia,
But the neighbours didn’t like his crow.
He started up at 4am,
Just to let them know
The sun is coming up,
Get ready for a brand new day!
But the neighbours weren’t ready for a wakeup call,
They had him sent away!

So Ken came to us in a cardboard box,
To live with our free rangers.
We kept him separate for a while
Until the rangers were not strangers.
Ken was full of self-importance,
Although a scrawny little boy
He strutted up and down the fence,
As though a wound up toy.

He was a little Belgium bantam,
All the way from the village you see,
He was black, with white specks on him
His wings were quite droop-y
Ken was half the size of all the hens,
But did not seem to care,
He wanted to get amongst those girls
He thought it was not fair

And so we let him in,
With all the bigger hens,
He could strut around night ‘n’ day,
Then start all over again.
Ken started crowing at 4 am
But we all just ignored him.
He thought that he was the king, the boss,
That all the girls adored him.
We hadn’t the heart to tell him the truth,
Out there in the paddocks of home,
That that poor little guy
Had short man’s syndrome.

Then the tragedy happened,
It made us oh so blue.
We found that Ken could not be found,
We knew that it was true.
The great big carpet snake,
That had been eating all our eggs,
Took Ken away for dinner
And ate those scrawny legs

We miss that little rooster,
That cute little guy,
So if you ever own a rooster
Be careful!
… The snake may come say hi!

Geese for Peace

Bruce & Fanny are our pair of geese. We actually purchased a trio but Cordelia turned out to be a Colin and two ganders in a trio is just too much for the poor old chickens to deal with. I gave Cordelia (aka Colin) to a grain grower who in turn gave me 10kg cracked corn. That lucky gander was going to woo and schmooze 10 love-starved geese on his property with a damn. Damn he must be one happy honker now.

Anyhoo, Bruce and Fanny are a lovely couple, always caring and sharing, swimming together in the old clam-shaped wading pool. Fanny tried to hatch out a batch of giant eggs but was unsuccessful. She tried a second batch but at that stage I was not wanting them so I kept taking her eggs when she left the nest which was located safely inside the chook pens.
So-o-o she thought bugger you chum I will lay them out in the paddock under the lantana bush. We lock up out poultry every night to protect them from the foxes and no matter who tried, none of us could get near her nest to move her. She is a feisty feathered female. Bruce was happy to be locked up every night so she stayed out every night alone.

Now Bruce, the big sook, when released every morning went straight to her, honking and carrying on and every morning she totally ignored him. She had his DNA and she was perfectly happy. He suffered, he complained and then it struck him....Bruce became my new best friend. He followed me, he told me all about it and he complained when I left him alone. If I was in the paddock he was right behind me (at least he knows his place!). Eventually I sat down on a log and listened to his sad tale for 5 minutes. He sat with me and it was nice but I was finding the midday sun a bit much and had to leave him again. Poor fella'. Eventually I let him into the back yard where he was able to keep tabs on me with more efficiency. When I watered the plants with recycled wash water he was there. When I hung out the washing, he was there. But when I sat at my computer, which allows me to look out over the back veranda and yard, he decided he would be there. Slowly this orange beak and pleading eyes ascended the six steps to the veranda. He was sent back down but once again Bruce the Desperate gradually made his way up those steps again.

Meanwhile, Fanny, whose nest was not far from our bedroom window, was braving the nights alone. Then one night it happened. The Lovely Husband and I were about to fall asleep when the goose was attacked. We could hear her calls recede down the paddock. Out of bed we leaped, torches grabbed and boots on to try and rescue Fanny. Now, I sleep in pyjamas, I love pyjamas, girly ones, funny ones, whatever but the Lovely Husband sleeps naked. So had the situation been less serious it would have been quite funny. We ran through the paddock but had to stop a couple of times to listen for her calls but eventually we tracked her down. The fox had dropped her. Speculation of why is an interesting discussion. She is a large bird with a good wing span and may have been too big and struggled too much. It could have been our voices and torchlight. My favourite though is the site of the Lovely Husband in his best outfit leaping across the paddock in hot pursuit of said fox. Whatever takes your fancy really.

The poor thing was badly traumatised and I thought she would die. She survived the first night but looked very unwell. She barely ate and was swollen around the base of her neck. One her eyes was damaged and she moved as little as possible. For three or four days she was very unwell, the gander, to his credit, looked after her beautifully. He never left her side. Late one afternoon I thought I saw a tick hanging from the base of her beak. When captured, the teens and I were able to remove a fully engorged paralysis tick. It was a wonder it did not kill her. Poor Fanny must have had the mother of all headaches though.

Fanny is back to her normal self (except for her eye which looks permanently damaged) and the pair of them are once again caring and sharing. Bruce has dumped my like a hot potato but I am coping admirably.

Introduction

I live with my husband and two teenagers on a small "pretend" hobby farm in country Australia. We have dogs, cat, three horses, 15 chooks and a pair of geese. I will be writing about the everyday stuff that happens with the family and animals that inhabit our property.

Until about four years ago I would ride my Waler horse when she and I had a difference in opinion as to which direction we would ride. The last thing I remember thinking is "She is going to throw me!!" I have no recollection of the accident but woke up eyeballing the grass. I felt quite "out of it" and my ribs hurt like hell. After establishing that I could move my legs etc I got up and caught my "piece of poop" of a horse (not the exact words I used at the time). She was grazing not far from me and I rode her very gently home because my ribs were not happy little campers.

Long story short I received a minor brain injury. Although only minor the brain injury has had long term affects on my life. I was unable to work or drive for six months and had a lot of difficulty with problem solving, short term memory, temperature control and fatigue(the big one). Before you have a mental hernia I was wearing a helmet at the time of the accident and always wore it when I rode.

Four years later I am only able to work 10.5 hours per week and still need to have my afternoon sleep but most of the other problems are now minimal. My fatigue is life changing but I have adjusted to the limitations quite well I think.

I had a counsellor with the local brain injury rehabilitation service and she told me I was one of the best at handling my disability she has seen. Just my luck, I have to have a brain injury to excel at something.

But all is good with my little part of the world. I still have that piece of poop of a horse and I love her. I do not ride but we talk quite often.

Will write again soon. Keep smiling.