Blogger Bill

It’s been almost a month since I posted. I find it hard to think of something I’m going to think is interesting to people, and that’s because most of my thought processes I do not consider would be of interest to anyone else, even though they are to me. The other reason is that I make too many mistakes while typing, and I get anxious about that. It irritates the buggery out of me, because I think that after all these decades I ought to be able to type properly, but I can’t do it to my satisfaction. I transpose letetrs insdie words (just like that), and don’t hold down the shift key strongly enough, so capitals get missed out.

I have an underlying anxiety that I handle by doing only what I want to do in my life, as far as I can manage and try to be philosophical about the rest. And by pills, mainly analgesics for chronic back pain. the pain is pretty bad, and constant. I wake up to, and go to sleep over it. Last night I slept 9½ hours!

Today I breakfasted, read The Age, got on the computer, where I read the ABC news, Facebook (where I have a presence and a bunch of 43 ‘friends’), checked out some simple editing of my Fungi Home Page , where I correctly capitalized all of the 200 or so names of species in my species index list and uploaded the corrected page to my web page.

Then I got on the piano and played some carols, as I’m doing a paid gig at a retirement village in a week or so - just a bit of practice to get me up to speed.

For lunch I had a pork and salad sandwich and nibbled some celery and lettuce, plus a cup of strong coffee. Then I read more of my current book called “The Next Hundred Years”, in which the writer analyzes the world and tries to guess what might happen. It’s a field called geopolitics, and I find it quite interesting. Apparently America will stay dominant, Russia will disintegrate, France and Germany will weaken, Poland and Turkey will become very strong and expansive, the Caucasus, Eastern Europe and the Middle East will become turbulent and weakened, China will disintegrate a bit, and Japan will become very powerful in the Pacific, to the extent that Japan and the USA might be in conflict. Israel will stay strong. Space technology will expand, and become important militarily.

He doesn’t have a lot to say so far about militant Islam, which I think will become problematical to everyone. nor does he discuss nuclear proliferation and the effects of any use of nuclear weapons by smaller states such as Iran or Pakistan. Nor does he discuss the consequences of the effects of a further major terrorist attack on American politics, which I think could be telling.

And to my amazement, so far he hasn’t tackled the problem of anthropogenic climate change or even just global warming. I think that’s because he’s a conservative American academic and probably not a “believer” in these things. I think he’s wrong, and the geopolitical results of of those events will be tremendous, with changes in agriculture leading to mass migrations, water and food wars and huge suffering and turmoil.

I’m glad I won’t be around to see it all happen, in a way - not that I have any choice. But I view my death with equanimity. The way I feel most days is such that I don’t want it to have to go on for too many more decades!

Anyway, after a bit of a read I went for a walk around the “duckpond”. which as about a 2 km walk to a nearby park with a lake with ducks. It was quite hot and sunny, and I kept of getting waves of pain and faintness that comes upon when I walk a bit too fast. I’ve had it checked out several times by and “exercise test”, where I walk on a treadmill wired up to and ECG and so on, then immediately on stopping have a Doppler ultrasound. I came up with no disorders showing, which is a relief. The thing is, that I only get faint and painful in the head and chest when I do a brisk walk along the street or even just a quick putting out the bins!! It doesn’t happen when I do the exercise stress test!!

I came back from the walk, and lay on the bed in the dark, listening to the ABC on the radio, whereby I slept on and off for a couple of hours. Now I’ve come and typed this stuff in, for what it’s worth.

Now it’s getting on to teatime, so will have some cheese and biscuits, with a glass of sherry. Tea will be the second portion of a meal I cooked last night, namely beef in oyster sauce, with rice, which was a great success. I’m looking forward to it. Then it will be an evening of TV viewing, restricted to the ABC and SBS. It would have to be a bloody good film for me to view it on commercial TV, which I hate, mainly because of the ads, but also for the whole moronic mentality, with an emphasis on the trivial, the celebrities, the sport, and contrived “scares”, “crises” and such like.

We enjoy our TV so much more since we got a fairly large digital set, where everything is so much clearer and brighter. It’s something we can do together, whereas otherwise for me it’s books and the computer, and for her it’s gardening, housework, cooking and knitting - more or less, although we do overlap quite a bit - except that I don’t do knitting and she loves it!

I suppose that about eleven I’ll get back on the computer and she’ll go to bed. On the computer I’ll do some work with my graphics program, Paint Shop Pro 8. I need to create some headers for my fungi pages with images of fungi in them. For that I need to learn more about manipulating ‘layers’ for images editing. It’s not as easy as it looks. This morning I did some searching on the net for images of fungal hyphae/mycelium that I can overlay onto my graphics header panels. I’ll get there.

So that’s my day so far. They say that as you age you need to keep your mind active and engaged. I think I’m doing OK on that, as well as getting a bit of exercise.

Roll on the week!

Three weeks ago my wife Glenyce underwent a total knee replacement operation which appears to have been successful. I marvel at the wonderful technology of modern science and medicine that allowed this to occur. The alternative would have been years of crippling arthritic pain, and I am grateful that I live in such a modern age.

She came home from a rehab hospital six days ago, and just three days after that she accompanied me in a 600 km round trip, staying overnight with me as I played a piano gig at the Mountain Grand Hotel, a delightful boutique guest house in Halls Gap. She coped well, albeit with judicious use of a pair of elbow crutches, but she did negotiate some steep stairs along the way.

So now we’re back together, and I’m playing nursemaid, the worst part of which is putting a pair of pressure stockings on every day. They sure are tight, and it’s a struggle, but worth it, because this helps to prevent the formation of blood clots in the veins of the leg.

Actually there was a little drama when an ultrasound detected a leg clot, but apparently it’s an old one, and no problem. But she was under a rehab doctor for that and she was prescribed injections of Clexane, which dissolve the clot - she was scheduled to to do that for weeks! And she had to learn to do it herself!! But we saw the orthopaedic surgeon today, and he took her off it, as it can cause bleeding. So that’s a relief.

All that remains is weeks of recovery, with physiotherapy a couple of times a week, and plenty of exercises to do, and application of cold packs. Meanwhile I’m doing the newly-revised skills of housekeeping, cooking, washing and so on. But you can’t keep a good gal down and she wants to take over from me again!! Heheh!

Anyway, all of this saga has been yet another medical experience in this year of a succession of minor to moderately serious experiences.

Let’s hope it’s plain sailing until the New Year!

My wife, Glenyce, has just come through a reasonably serious operation, namely, a total knee replacement. This is her 6th night in hospital, and my 6th alone at home, which is in interesting and not altogether unpleasant experience. I can spread out in the double bed, read with the bed-lamp on brightly, and listen to the radio during the night. I’m OK with meals, washing and so on. But it has been and still is disturbing to see the one I love so helpless and in pain, not that the care she’s getting isn’t any good. She’s in an excellent private hospital, and under a well-respected surgeon. She had a blood transfusion today and is looking better. I think tomorrow she will start physiotherapy in earnest, and this will be start of a long recovery - 6 weeks, they say.

Anyway, I’m surprised that I’ve coped so well, because I am aware that just underneath my surface lurks endogenous depression of long standing. Experience has taught me not to underestimate its evil power, and I really do have to watch the number of things that I have to cope with at once, or it all falls into a heap. By “it”, I mean my personal integration and means of coping.

Courtesy of a friend, I had a free ticket to a concert this afternoon in the wonderful Robert Blackwood Hall at nearby Monash University, so dressed up and went. It was a concert band (no strings - just brass, woodwind, percussion) recital, being a combined local concert band and a professional army band. Programmed as a “London Proms” sort of thing, it had an eclectic program, including Waltzing Matilda and Land of Hope and Glory. We were given little Australian flags to wave as we bought our programs, and the words for the latter were included.

The thing is, in recent years some music has had a disturbing effect on me in that my emotions well up and I feel like crying. That would never do, so I struggle to suppress it. I spent the afternoon suppressing it! It doesn’t make sense, but in the tunes with the most powerful effect, there’s a sense of nostalgia, and that does it every time. A Vera Lynn medley really got to me, and Land of Hope and Glory did, too, as did several other beautiful classical numbers.

In my struggles to suppress it, I analyzed the structure of the music, I watched how the the six percussionists juggled position from one piece to the other, I looked at all of the microphone arrangements, examined the walls, the lights and baffles in the ceiling, studied the structure of the pipe organ, watched the conductor’s technique. I even fantasized about having sex with the singer and various members of the orchestra!

Anyway, I succeeded in not giving way to the flood. But there were times when the flood of moisture to the eyes was brimming bright, the involuntary sob or two had to be choked back, and my watery nose threatened to give me away. But I held my nerve and won through.

Until next time!

In the early 1980s my father developed Parkinson’s disease and eventually became bed-ridden, unable to speak. I was never sure of what he understood of what was happening around him, or of what was spoken to him. My own doctor tried to assure me that he was probably unable to comprehend anything, and was eventually in a world of his own. But I was never sure of that. He eventually contracted pneumonia and died of that.

In my 30s and 40s I observed his experience, and also took note of what I could see of others’ exeriences of older age, by which I meant over about 75 and later. The onset of frailty and pain appalled me when I saw it in others, and for some reason or other decided that about 75 years of age would be enough for me, and that after that I just wanted to expire, like a candle burnt down low.

In December I turn 71. The 75 deadline approaches and I’m wondering what will happen. My father died at 83, as I said earlier, and my mother died at age 101. She hated being old and in pain and wanted to die for years before she did. She railed against God for her suffering and infirmity; some times she threatened to go on a hunger strike.

Finally her intestines ruptured and she died of peritonitis. She took 4 days to die, in a hospital with reasonable levels of palliation and pain control. We were grateful for the attendance of the palliative care team, and she died in heavily sedated peace. But she suffered far too much in the latter years of her life.

I do not want to live that long if it’s going to be like that. I suffer chronic pain, and flinch at the thought of too many more years of it. I do not believe that my pain will be controlled properly as the years roll by. I believe that the doctors are more concerned with avoiding drug addiction than relieving pain. It’s a trade off, isn’t it? They don’t want to be accused of “over-prescribing” and getting patients “addicted” to analgesics. The lower level analgesics are pretty ineffective, in my experience, and the docs don’t want to use the more addictive ones.

The result for me is that I face increasing pain and the alterations in mood and thinking ability that come with that. Chronic pain strips me of my personality and my mental functioning goes to pieces. The situation will inevitably become beyond me, and then I will wish to die.

When I reach the point of too much pain I want my existence to be terminated. I suspect that that will be around 2013. I hope it happens naturally, but if not, than I will ensure that it will happen. The family will just have to cope, one way or another. It’s my life and my suffering. Why should I have to put up with years of disgusting pain and frailty to spare the feelings of others upon my demise?

Time will tell.

Because I was sick of almost unpredictable, intermittent and agonizing back and leg pain, and strange feeling in my chest and head on exertion, I recently prevailed upon my GP to get some tests done.

So I had an MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) done of the lumbar spine, and a stress test echo cardiogram (treadmill and heart ultrasound). To do the MRI I needed a sedative because last time I got claustrophobia, so I did it full of prescribed Valium.

The results showed that spinal stenosis hasn’t got much worse than it was 5 years ago, but that two of my vertebra (L5-S1) now have got no disc material between them. no wonder it hurts! i elected to take it no further. I had thought that I might get to a pain clinic or something, but after talking with GP Wendy Barton, decided to stay with the pain control system of medications that I’m doing already.

The treadmill buggered me, and at 136 beats per minute I ran out of breath and lay down so they could image my heart. The results were good. I have no problems shown up by this method of examination. But I’m left wondering what causes my chest tightness and dull ache and sense of impending unconsciousness that never eventuates.

It could be psychosomatic, but I don’t think so. I’m pretty savvy in psychology, and don’t think that’s the reason. I could be a hypochondriac, but again, don’t think that’s the case. I don’t want to be sick. It annoys me to have such symptoms, and part of me wants to have an explanation. and that might never be forth-coming, so I’ll just have to live with it.

On with the puzzles of existence!

Well, this is a medical saga so far this year. Skin cancer removals for both of us, and an MRI and stress echo cardiogram to come for me next week.

Following on from the melanoma I had a basal cell carcinoma removed from my chest a month ago, and here is the requisite picture of the stitches involved:-

That has healed up very nicely since then. The next medical episode was the treatment of Glenyce solar keratoses on her face, which are precancerous lesions too numerous to excise easily. The dermatologist, Jeremy Banky, of Masada Hospital, suggested the use of an anticancer treatment called Efudix. Containing the agent 5-fluoruracil, it attacks cells depending on their rate of cell division, namely the cancer cells, but also effects normal skin.

After 3 weeks nightly application it leaves the face reddened, blotchy, burning and sore, after which there is a 3-week period of recovery. Glenyce has almost recovered by now, but at its peak it looked like this:-

We hope that’s all the end of the skin cancers. But I’m following up the extensive back and leg pain that’s making my life hell. To this end I’m having a Magnetic Resonance Imagery (MRI) scan next Tuesday to see exactly what’s going on with my lower back and sciatic nerves so I can get into the hands of a pain specialist. Because the last time I suffered a claustrophibic anxiety attack when I was in the close confines of the device, I need sedation and will take double Valium beforehand next Tuesday.

The next day I do an echo-cardiogram while undergoing a stress test on a treadmill, to find out what’s causing chest pain and faintness upon exertion. I find it worrying to have these free-floating disorders making my life unpleasant, and see no reason why I can’t use my expensive private health insurance to address the problems.

I’ll keep this blog posted!

Musings in Bethesda Hospital, 1990.

Introduction:

By Melbourne Cup Day 1990 I was suffering a lot of pain from headache and the onset of severe depression, which took the form of feelings of alienation from the family, irritation of their being dependent on me, feelings of being cut off from Glenyce, my wife, and a developing sense of paranoia. I was unable to ask for the very thing I needed - love and understanding from my wife. Becoming desperate to be out of the situation, I needed to act before I became suicidal, which had happened before, with almost fatal results.

The following day I got an appointment with my psychiatrist and turned up with a packed bag for hospital. He agreed and admitted me to Bethesda Hospital, Richmond. I simply needed time out. I got relaxation, antidepressants, physiotherapy and hydrotherapy, which all helped! I wrote these rambling musings while in there.

Bethesda Hospital, Yooralbyn 5B, Sunday November 11th, 1990

I couldn’t remember the name of this hospital, for the life of me! … had to look at the foot of the bed. Wonder why? It didn’t seem to matter, as I am “just here”, staring southward through the window glass.

I feel well, but I wonder what’s really happening. Oh, I’ll write down some analyses and musings, but will I ever really know? What does “really know” mean? How will I know when I really know? What does “really know” really mean? How will I know when I really know, without it turning out to be just an illusion of knowing.

It’s as if I break through a veil to see a wall labelled “reality”, only this wall turns out to be just another veil, an illusion of reality. And behind each veil labelled “reality is another wall labelled “reality”, which as really a veil masquerading as reality. And so on, like mirrors facing one another to give an infinite series of reflections.

NOTE: I must remember that everything which is labelled reality is an illusion.

Beyond the glass lies the hill of South Yarra. It is night. Serrated rows of lights twinkle out of the velvety blackness. This row is Punt Road, that one is along Yarra Park. Yellows and whites, the odd green or bluish pinpoint of illusive reality.

In the centre is a dull green cylinder, a flour mill (?) of the past. Incongruously, this is surmounted by a gaudy red sign which screams NYLEX. (Do we conclude that Nylex hoses are made from flour?) Well, why not? Strange, isn’t it, that the luxurious apartments of South Yarra are upstaged by a flour silo shouting about plastic hoses. What would a Martian think?

The image of Bill Leithhead stares thought fully back at me from the glass pane. there he is, seated comfortably over half of South Yarra!

I am an illusion, an image.

A closer reality bisects the scene, severing Bill’s reflection’s right arm, which is my own left. The image appears to feel no pain (”pane”?). It is the blind’s drawstring which severs the reality of Bill over South Yarra.

I can walk over and touch the drawstring. It seems quite real. It slithers snakily, dryly, through my fingers, exciting billions of nerve cells. Is it the nerve cell excitement which is the reality? Does the seat of this reality lie in my hands or in my brain?

What is it that is “perceiving” the South Yarra Bill Leithhead drawstring reality?

if I walk out of the room does it all cease to exist? As I look down to write these words does it cease to exist? But when I look up again, it is still there! Did it go away again, or stay there, ready for me? How do I know it is the same as before I looked down at these words?

For I have only my memory of what it was before, to compare with the present instant with. So where exists my perception of what it was before? In my brain. How? As intricately structured molecular arrangements? How? How?

Will these perceptions of “reality” persist when the molecular arrangements disintegrate with death? Is there a “holistic imprint” of the electronic vibrations which we call the molecules, or which can be associated with the molecules? “Are” them?

Is the sum total of all the “past” a soul or spirit or soul-spirit which will persist? Does this change with time after death? How? By electrical decay or fading? or by the additions of new, succeeding perceptions from the future after death?

Through which sensory organs will my soul-spirit add to or change this holistic imprint of “vibrations” I am calling my soul-spirit?

The concepts of “add to” or “change”, and the verb “will”, imply the concept of time. And is this “time” concept also part of the illusion?

If so, then these musings become rather meaningless.

So, how can I think about all these ideas, and how can I tell when any of it has any “meaning”?

I always liked the philosophical joke which goes … “It all depends on what you mean by ‘mean by’”!!

But the only other person it ever seems to make sense to is Don Treacher, (a psychologist I met doing human Relations courses). Why is this? To me, “mean by ‘mean by’” is quite an important idea. That is, I want to examine the actual significance of the idea of “meaning” in thinking and discussions. This is a core matter in philosophy, yet my friends apparently accord it no significance; they are oblivous to its importance in human thought.

There are various important ideas in my mind that do not seem to be shared by other people, so I rarely bother - it’s too frustrating for me!

Postscript:

I was discharged a week later in a much better frame of mind. Most certainly both my family and myself had benefitted from the time out.

Well, here’s another slightly gruesome picture for the blog. It’s been one of those years, with more to come! Two days ago I had a melanoma removed from my back by a dermatologist, Dr Jeremy Banky. He told me that it is a Stage 1 lesion, meaning that it had not become invasive, which is very good news. Here’s the nicely-stitched up wound; it’s not too uncomfortable.

I’m glad I went to the trouble to get an appointment to let him give me the once-over. I have another skin cancer of some sort to be cut out of my chest in a fortnight’s time. That’s not a melanoma, but still a damned cancer after all.

This sort of thing focusses my mind on ageing and mortality. I’m 70, and quite often feeling my age. That involves reduced strength, and a myriad of aches and pains, mostly arthritic. The spinal stenosis in my back has a major effect on the way that I move, twist, bend, lift and just walk around. It won’t go away. It is inoperable, so I just have to cope with the dysfunction. Which I do pretty well most of the time.

But the melanoma could have killed me. They inevitably spread and invade the lymphatic system, so I’m glad I got in the hands of an expert in good time.

Contemplation of my distantly approaching but inevitable death is nothing new for me. Since the late 1970s I’ve suffered depression, which when untreated, lead to powerful suicidal imagery. I thought it was better not to exist than to burden others with my toxic presence. I had various methods mapped out.

Fortunately, I fell into the hands of a good psychiatrist who was able to turn me around with medication and psychotherapy. I still see a psych and take antidepressants, and it’s pretty well under control. I know my weak points, faults, toxic thinking and ugly buttons, and can avoid them most of the time. But seeing the psych saved my life, or at least my marriage. I was lucky, in a way, just as I am with this little melanoma.

My advice is, if you think you’re feeling the effects of depression, get a referral to a psychiatrist. And if you’ve had sun-damage in earlier years, get a referral to a dermatologist. Don’t hesitate!

It’s being a hard year for my darling wife Glenyce. She’s had a couple of skin cancers cut out of her face, and that’s needed a total of 30 stitches (see below).

She’s soon (late July) going to have to rub some anticancer ointment (Efudex) on her face for 3 weeks, during which time her skin will become red and blotchy. It preferentially destroys solar keratoses (incipient skin cancers), but partially damages the normal skin at the same time. Then there’s a period of another 3 weeks where it heals up again, giving new, cancer-free skin.

OK, now the next bit. We saw an orthopaedic surgeon today, and the upshot of it is that she needs a total knee replacement on her left leg. And so it will come to pass that on October 14th, Glenyce will have a 90-minute operation in which her left knee will be replaced by a cunning contraption of titanium, chromium-cobalt, and specialized plastics, all glued in place, aligned with the aid of a computer.

She will have a considerable period of convalescence at home afterward, during which time I will rise to the occasion vis-a-vis domestic tasks (which I have so cunningly hitherto avoided). I am sure there will be frustration and problems in all sorts of ways. But the good news is that she will have many years of trouble-free living in the years to come. We both come from long-lived families, and need to make it all count as much as possible, albeit with the application of modern medical technology.

Here’s to a long life!

Well, we’ve been to Merimbula and come back, and it was very good. I’ll blog on this again soon, but first - an update!

In second-last topic before this I showed pictures of my wife Glenyce’s adventures with surgery to remove a couple of skin cancers on her cheeks. One picture showed a wound with 20 stitches in it after a basal cell carcinoma was removed from her upper left cheek. While we were away in the caravan I was dressing the wound daily, and since we came back she’s had the stitches removed. The results are shown in the following picture:-

Now, Glenyce is pretty sensitive to the way she looks and is somewhat mortified that she’ll have this scar and the other one on her right cheek to contend with in her self-image in coming months and years. But it is part of life for many of us who have had skin damage from sun exposure in earlier years. I assure her that these will fade with time, and, anyway, cosmetics will work wonders.

What’s more, I still love her just as she is!

Today we’re off to Merimbula Jazz Festival where I’m playing with two bands. I love the south coast of NSW, and the Victorian countryside is now beautifully green and lush. Not sure that I can blog while on the road, so I’ll be back in 10 days.

Looking forwards to playing, and confident of my playing. Health tolerable (with pills). Ciao.

Looking at the last several posts, it might seem as though I have a possibly unhealthy fixation upon mutilation or disfigurement. However, quite to the contrary, I am very interested in the healthy functioning of this wonderful mechanism in which we all appear to be encased for the duration of our lives.

The mysterious rash from several months ago has vanished completely, courtesy of my trust-worthy immune system. Glenyce’s right cheek featured recently, after the removal of a skin cancer, but I am glad to report that after a fortnight the stitches are now out and she is healing up quite well, as the following picture shows:

After he’d removed the above stitches, the dermatologist tackled a basal cell carcinoma high up on her left cheek, close to her eye. Using Moh’s surgery, he removed the extensive lesion, leaving an L-shaped wound with 20 stitches in it:

After he’d removed the offending tissue, there is a wait for the pathologist to do a microscopic study of the removed cancer cells, before the incision was stitched up. As it happens, based on those results, he needed to go in again and remove more tissue to get the carcinoma all out properly before closing the wound.

Now I have the task for the next fortnight of dressing the wound daily, with hydrogen peroxide, followed by vaseline, the latter minimizing scarring. I’m getting pretty good at using the dressing materials and the Micropore tape. My poor darling Glenyce is not all thrilled by this damage to her face, and concerned about her future appearance. But on the other hand we’re glad to have been under treatment by a surgeon who appears to be very good at his profession, and pleased to have been able to get rid of Glenyce’s nasty skin cancers.

Perhaps I should get him to give me the once-over, just in case!

God, it’s so long since I blogged that all my hundreds of fans must have dissipated! Well, I am resolving to blog frequently to maintain interest, and for my own discipline. God knows I need it because I can be so dissolute, wasting day after day on internet-surfing, reading books and playing the piano.

I’m not getting enough exercise and my back really hurts - day and night - non-stop. Aaargh! I do have a major arthritic problem of non-operative spinal stenosis causing chronic pain, and I’m supposed to get out and walk. But that hurts more than just sitting around, so it’s a bit of a bind, and this suburb is so boring!

Anyway, I have been rehearsing with several musicians each Saturday at my place, and that’s quite good fun - hard work a lot of the time, but good fun. Tomorrow’s the final rehearsal before we go off next weekend to play at the Merimbula Jazz Festival. It’s called the Jazz Travellers (a name I coined in 2000). We have piano (me), drums, bass, tenor sax/clarinet and a singer.

I’m also in a nice little trio called Jazz Therapy, so-called because it makes us feel good. Come to think of it, I once played with a trad band called Major Fieldgood (”made-ya feel good” - gettit?) and that was fun too. My mate Des Shaw from that has given it all way because he now has emphysema, and you can’t play the trumpet with that!

So next Tuesday Glenyce and I pile into the car and push off (actually - pull off) with the caravan for the NSW South Coast - always beautiful up there - staying at Orbost overnight on the way. We’ll do our jazz playing, listening and socializing and then come back in a week’s time.

In the last blog item I blogged on my rash, which has now vanished completely. But Glenyce (my wife) recently saw the GP and got a referral to the same dermatologist who looked at a couple of almost invisible things on her face. She has a squamous cell carcinoma on one cheek and a basal cell carcinoma on the other, and they need to be removed surgically.

A fortnight ago she had the first one cut out of her right cheek and I’ve had the task of daily dressing of the wound with hydrogen peroxide and then vaseline. After the first 48 hours she removed the wound dressing for the first time and I took a photo of the nice, neat 8 or 9 stitches:-

And now she has a bigger cut in her left cheek, up near the eye, which is slowly turning a sort of reddish-purple. We trust that that won’t become too bad, because she assiduously applied an ice-pack regularly after she came from the surgery. When she first takes the wraps off that one on Sunday I’ll take another photo to continue this little saga of the wounded wife.

Stay tuned!

Well, the day after I saw the dermatologist, the rash broke out all over me, mainly all over my thighs, down to the ankles, around the bum, up the back, around my sides up to my armpits, and all along my arms to the wrists. The only areas free of wheals were my chest, the top of my back, and, mercifully, my face! It’s a pity the doc didn’t get to see this in all of its glory. I was so impressed that I took a photo.

Three days later the dermatologist rang me to say that the pathology showed that there was no vasculitis (that is, capillary damage underlying the rash), and that there was no need to obtain a swag of blood tests that he’d arranged for me to get in the event that there was vasculitis. This was a bit of a relief, as it removed the possibility of something sinister associated with the rash.

This left me with plain ordinary urticaria (hives), for which there was nothing to do except take anti-histamines morning and night, to use Celestone-M cream on it, and to shower using body lotion instead of soap. So I’ve continued to do all of that.

The rash has continued for several weeks more, coming and going, but gradually dwindling. And now I’ve gone a week with no evidence of the morning rash. The dermatologist thinks it’s pretty well played itself out, and we’ll never know exactly what caused it. “Idiopathic”, is the term used for that.

Next thing is for him to cut out an enlarged and infected sweat gland in my back, in a week or so, when the antibiotics he prescribed have had a chance to work.

Now I’ve got a whole container of QV body wash for the shower, so I guess I’ll just use all that up instead of soap for a while. God knows what I’ll do with two large tubes of Celestone-M and a whole tube of Hydrazole (for non-existent thrush), but if I get that annoying fungus rash around my crutch (that’s another story of “jock itch”) next summer I’ll be well-prepared!.

I’m due to have the GP arrange for me to have the annual influenza vaccination, and a scheduled pneumonia vaccination, but she’s told me to hold off, as apparently that sort of thing can stir up the recent rash.

I wonder what my body will do next? Who knows what sort of alien protein is lurking around in my intra-corporal nooks and crannies?

Just so long as it’s not Swine Flu!!

The dermatologist today suggested that my mysterious rash is urticaria - hives. But probably not the usual short-lived (24-hours) hives associated with allergies. Rather, because I have chronic urtucaria, it might be urticarial vasculitis. We’ll know soon because he took a biopsy - a plug of skin and underlying tissues, which will be studied and stained and so on, looked at by a pathologist who will determine the nature of any deep-seated changes in the structure of the capillaries lying underneath the hive lesions.

The news might simply be that nothing major is going on, that there is no known cause of the urticaria, and that it will simply go away in its own good time, whic can be months or years. Meanwhile, I take antihistamine tablest and use the Celestone-M cream to minimize the rash.

From my sleuthing on the internet, the bad news is that the rash might be associated with the early stages of an autoimmune disease such as lupus erythematosus or rheumatoid arthritis, in the extreme case. Depending upon the results of today’s biopsy, then the specialist might order blood tests, which may well pick up anything sinister that may be happening.

I await with interest! I never know what by fascinating old body is going to do next. The process of watching the years roll by is just like turning the pages of a novel

The rash first appeared around my genitals as several raised reddened zones and what looked like bites! “Yikes! I’ve got crabs (pubic lice) off that bloody shower block on the foreshore at Inverloch”, I thought, gloomily. I’d been down that road once before years ago under circumstances that were entirely innocent - I swear!

This time I waited a day and there were more spots and zones, so I went to a GP. She said that I’d got thrush. Startled but relieved, I bought the thrush cream (Hydrazole) and used it. No effect.

The spots were appearing each morning in increasing quantities, radiating from my crutch, as series of slightly reddened spots, (each about 10 mm in diameter), and grouped clusters of such spots. I still thought “Crabs!”, ‘cos they looked like bites, even though they didn’t itch. The net informed me that crabs were spread by sexual contact. Now I happen to be happily married, hadn’t strayed lately, and what’s more am pretty deficient in the hydraulics department after my prostatectomy 2 years ago.

So I went to the chemist, confided my problem and was sold a lotion (Ascobiol).This instructed me to paint (!) it all over my body from the neck down, let it dry, and keep it on for 24 hours (!!). I obeyed. It had a peculiar smell, and it stung like hell on my testicles. Hobbling around naked in the back yard to make it dry, I was jumping from one leg to another for the 15 minutes that it kept stinging.

Another 24 hours passed and I gladly washed the damn stuff off me. No effect - just the now familiar crops of zones and spots. By now they were all over my upper legs and even my upper arms, but not my back or my chest. It was quite spectacular!

I got me to my regular GP (not the thrush doctor), who said “Oh my God!” as I shed my shirt and dropped my trousers. She wondered whether I’d had an allergic response to my self-medication lotion. This was becoming confusing. Perhaps I had bites from lice as well as an allergic reaction? She prescribed a anti-histamine tablets as well as a lotion to stop the itch. So far there was no itch, because if there was I would be going barmy!

My internet searching convinced me that I didn’t have crabs - didn’t fit the bite symptoms. Also, I discovered from the bottle that the lotion I’d been given by the chemist was for body lice, which I certainly didn’t have. I’d suffered in vain!

Two days later I saw the doctor again. The “bites” had progressed down to the ankles and lower arms, and everywhere they’d appeared changed within a few hours to spectacular bruising zones of various colours, fading away after about a week. By now my lower parts were very spotty indeed. She thought it was getting less, and I was otherwise well, so we left it, hoping that it would just go away.

Well, it hasn’t! Each day I’ve been waking up with new patches of zones/bites which have progressed down to my ankles, than up both sides to my armpits and around my back legs and buttocks. I started to consider the possibility that I had bed bugs, but it didn’t quite fit. And besides, my wife Glenyce had not been similarly afflicted. That was a relief.

Today I saw the GP again, who exclaimed “Oh my God” once more and promptly arranged an urgent appointment with skin specialist. She said it might be Pityriasis rosea and gave me a pamphlet.

I’ve read the pamphlet and searched the net, and am pretty sure that that is not what I have. So now I’m off to bed, hoping for a good crop of new spots show him in the morning, so I can get a proper diagnosis. I reckon it’s some virus, and that it will last a couple of more weeks and then go away for ever.

I never cease to amaze myself with this old body!

Earlier this year I played in the Grampians Jazz Festival. My usual bass player had fallen ill, so I found a replacement in the form of Don Calvert, owner of one of the venues, the Mountain Grand hotel. Described by him as a “boutique” hotel, it’s closer to a guest house and restaurant, and a very nice place it is, too.

Well, Don provides music in the restaurant on Saturday nights, with himself on the electric bass and singing. He usually gets a piano player on the grand piano or a guitarist to accompany him, and he has a range of good people playing with him. He provides the musician with meals and accommodation.

The pianists he gets are good - very good, so I was flattered when he offered me the chance to go up and there and play with him. And so, accompanied by Glenyce, I drove the 300 km to Halls Gap last Saturday and settled into our room for a rest and recovery. Togged up in musicianly black, we took our places on the small stage and started in with our first set of numbers.

For this, I sight-read the piles of music he places in front of me, and so we proceed through the eight or so songs. Taking a break, we had a chat about how the playing’s going. I was playing a little too loud, with a few too many notes from the piano for his style. That’s partly from the fact that I do all my practicing alone, and am not used to this duo work.

Undaunted, in we go for the next set, after which he expressed satisfaction with my adaptation to the gig’s stylistic requirements which pleased me greatly, because I was working very hard to keep on top of the sight-reading and the need for a kind of minimalist approach to the keyboard.

The dining room had been almost full, and as people left, we could make a bit more noise. We finished up with just one table full of enthusiastic listeners, as we turned to some spirited jamming to cap off the night.

Then it was a late dinner of his beautiful breast of chicken with pistachio sauce, accompanied by some excellent local red wines. We talked of music and vocal style, jazz personalities, and had a damn good time of it all. However, lying in bed, I was so stirred by the stimulation of the night (and the red wine), that, despite a sleeping pill, I had insomnia.

Next morning, showered, I started to wake up (or so I thought), and had a hearty breakfast in the busy dining room. There’s nothing like a good cooked breakfast to get you through the day! Glenyce, bless her heart, loved every minute of it, and so did I!

Knowing how I tick, I’d taken several caffeine tablets (No-Doze) to keep me awake for the drive home, and off we went. Before long I realized that I had a problem. Last night I’d taken a sleeping tablet that didn’t help me sleep. Now I’d had taken wakeup tablets that weren’t keeping me awake! So I handed over the steering wheel to Glenyce.

I settled in to snooze in the passenger side of the car. Now, I am not usually the passenger, and am not a good one, because I get nervous about the driving not being done quite how I do it. And so, whatdya know - I stay awake all the 300 km back home just from my nervous Nellie antics!

As soon as we got to Glen Waverley in the late afternoon of a grey day, I hit the hay, and succumbed into the arms of Morpheus. That, until I awaken by darling Glenyce with the news that the neighbour had noticed that we (actually she) had left the headlights on. Consequently the battery was too flat to start the car! Girding my loins, I got on the blower to the RACV, who arrived quite soon, jump-started the car and we pushed off for a long twilight drive on the freeway to charge it up again. By now I had woken up, fortunately, and after our drive we had tea.

Next thing, we had a knock on the door from a man who had noticed that I had left the headlights on! Talk about slow learners. Fortunately the engine started OK this time.

It was a long trip and an eventful weekend, but most enjoyable, in a very tiring sort of way. it took me a couple of days to get over it. But I look forward to hearing from Don for another chance of playing up there with him.

Well, the gastroscopy gave the news that I have no more ulcers and no more damage and inflammation. Jeez I’ve been missing the dishes with chilli in them! I’m going to make up for it tonight when we go out with my daughter Leanne.

So it’s clear sailing for my gut, and after holdups with car and caravan we’ve decided to push off for Alice Springs, a unique town in the centre of Australia. We’ll be driving my 1993 Ford station wagon (6 cylinders, 4 litres), which has enough grunt to handle our modest little caravan, a seventeen foot Viscount Ambassor van that my father bought sometime in the late 1960s. It’s old, but it’s been renovated and properly sealed at all the joints to avoid leaks. We know where everything goes, and we’re quite comfy in it. It has two beds and a table and benches for the eating area. We sleep in or on sleeping bags.

I spend a lot of time in the van lying down sleeping, reading, and listening to whatever I can hear on my portable radio, and Glenyce is the same, except that she likes to sit outside more than I do. We have a gas stove, electric frypan, toaster and electric jug; these do fine for our needs.

There is no television or microwave (no room for either), and we buy newspapers very rarely - just when we need for wrapping, etc. We have a range of books to read. Mine are mainly on sociology and politics, broadly speaking. We have books on birds, flowers, trees and fungi. I also have a range of books on geology, minerals and gemstones, as the region is quite interesting that way.

I have a hammer and special rock chisel for chipping away at interesting rocks, as well as boxes to bring them back home. We have a collection of rocks from many parts of Australia, souvenirs from our travels - many of the larger ones wind up in the garden!

On the Stuart Hightway between Port Augusta and Darwin there is a gap of 256 km with no petrol available, so I’ve got a 10 L special plastic container for carrying extra petrol. We also have a 10 L container of mineral water as a spare, so we can avoid hard water, because Artesian bores are common in this area. Even Adelaide has water with more calcium ions than usual, so I understand - makes the soap lather poorly. (We’ll be close to Adelaide tomorrow night, if all goes to plan.)

We’ve had to spend a lot more money on repairs and maintenance for the car and the caravan than we expected. But we’re both getting more and more aches and pains, such that I really wonder how long we can keep caravanning with an pleasure. The Red Centre is somewhere that we’ve not visited until now, so I want to make sure that we get there before some sort of disablity or infirmity sets in!

What Glenyce doesn’t know is that when we’ve done Alice Springs I’ll propose that we’ll push on for Darwin! That depends on how our bruised budget is coping with it all. Also, during October the build-up for the monsoon season starts, and starts to get very muggy, with frequent thunderstorms. But I’ll enquire about it at the “Alice”, and try to make it, as we’re so close, comparatively speaking, even though it’s a 2-day journey from Alice Springs.

Anyway, we’ve packed almost everything, and are eating out. Then it’s just a few more things before we go off into the wild blue yonder sometime about 6am, if possible. I’ll try to keep up with this blog, just in case someone other than my friend Gaye reads it!!

Arrivaderci!!

In two day’s time I will be strongly sedated and a man will peer into my insides to check the state of my oesophagus and duodenum. Over six weeks ago he found a bunch of ulcers in those trouble spots, and part of the lining of my gullet was eroded.

I can only trust that things are looking better, or at least no worse. I have knocked off taking Nurofen, the suspected culprit, and have avoided alcohol (well - just a little bit), chilli, grapefruit juice (don’t ask me why that), and sundry other foods and beverages on the list of things to avoid. I feel OK and have had minor cases of gastric reflux, but no real pain.

Unless there is bad news I will take myself off, together with Glenyce, caravanning to the Red Centre. Today we went to a map shop and bought up big on maps to help us along the way. After driving the Western Highway, etc., from here to Port Augusta we’ll aim to travel along the Stuart Highway from Port Augusta to Alice Springs. We’ve been inspecting it visually. It seems that via Google Maps we can see it all the way by Google Street View. Yep - they’ve taken multiple pictures every few metres all the way to Alice springs and beyond! Amazing!

It sure looks boring, but that’s what we initially thought about the Nullarbor when we did it seven years ago. But we were relieved that we found all sorts of things to notice in even the most desert-like country. There’s the land-forms, the rocks by the side of the road, the vegetation, the salt-lakes, the little mysterious roads off to somewhere isolated, the traffic, the occasional wild-life, the weather and - oh - all sorts of things. We’re never bored, and I think we’re lucky that way.

Anyway, I’m entering the busy stage of getting all of our personal details, web sites, passwords, banking and such-like together in an orderly fashion for our trip. It’s handy having most of our bill-paying done automatically via the computer.

But firstly there’s some minor repairs next Friday on our caravan, then some more minor work on our car next Tuesday, then we’re off. I won’t be able to blog, but I’ll try to set up for emails and Facebook. My Facebook name is Bill Leithhead, and you can become my “friend” if you register for Facebook and look for me.

Stay in touch!

Well, it’s been a long gap since I blogged, but here’s a summary:

Success at Inverloch Jazz Festival

My band the Jazz Travellers were included and successfully played two sets in the Inverloch Jazz Festival, but I came down with a moderately debilitating case of physical and mental exhaustion after-wards. I was done in by a combination of the hot days I spent in the caravan there, and medication for severe back pain originating from the caravanning. That and driving back to Melbourne and then taking my digital piano out to the other side of Melbourne for a one-hour gig in a nursing home.

My psychiatrist baldly stated that I had over-reached my self yet again. I didn’t think it was going to be too much until it actually happened! I seem to have settled down now.

Merimbula Jazz Festival

I have registered two bands to play in the Merimbula Jazz Festival in early June. We have ample time to prepare, and I am taking on board a singer, Ann Smith for the Jazz Travellers.

Colonoscopy

Today I had a “colonoscopy”, a medical examination of the interior of the large intestine. I haven’t had any symptoms like bleeding or real pain, but I can’t resist the temptation of the pun to say that let’s just say that I had a gut feeling about it. No nasties were found, but I do have diverticulosis, a modification of parts of the internal structure of the colon. This can give rise to pain and “discomfort”, and infections or even an abscess.

I remember talk that my father had something the same. I can’t see anything on the internet about the disorder other than it’s not uncommon in people my age, and probably not hereditary. The remedy seems to be lots of roughage, fruit, vegetables, grains and so on. Well, that’s been more or less my diet for many decades - we’ve always eaten healthily in this family. Perhaps the damage arose from my diet in my youth? Who knows?

But it’s nice to know I don’t have polyps or cancer of the bowel down there.

I get periods of constipation arising from pain relief from paracetamol/codeine combinations, but I do my best to minimize that usage. It’s a fine balance of pain relief over against constipation.