“What web site?”, I hear you ask, and in reply I say here. Notice the pretty image icons at left, as links to my varied webbish endeavours. And note especially the second link, with the bright yellow toadstools, leading to my famous fungi pages. These are the results of my project, from early in 2009, to make sense of the hundreds of pictures of fungi that I’ve photographed in various places from around 2003 onwards. I got involved with a botany group that go out and locate fungi in the forest. We aim to identify them, not eat them - most Australian fungi are not edible, anyway, and they’re too precious to waste in that way. No! We find them, photograph them, perhaps collect representative samples, and document them, in cooperation with the Melbourne Herbarium.

And so later last year I got down and designed display code, wrote it up, and started the onerous task of entering in all of the data I could find on my images. The results can be seen as above, and you can examine my photos in a series of 21 pages of thumbnail images, with multiple pictures of many species of fungi, with my attempt at a concise description of each species, with links to them on the internet.

List of thumbnail pages here - also via the navigation links at the top and bottom of the pages.

List of Latin names of species here. Of course, you need to know what you’re looking for, but the thumbnail pages are suitable for visual inspection of images - there are about 30 images per page.

Finally, over the years I’ve collected hundreds of pertinent links to various web sites to do with fungi, and for the sake of simplicity I’ve catalogued these per world region, and my list of useful fungi links can be seen here, as a separate web page. I’ve had to go into all of those links and weed out any dead links - the ones that no longer work. I’m still collating more of these, as time allows.

But I’m pretty sick of it all at this stage and just want to sit back and see if it’s all of any value to people out there in internet country. I think it will, and I think the web site works well. I’m certainly getting Googled and picked up by other search engines, because I can track that through my web site admin software - that’s one advantage of having my own registered web site.

Anyway, here’s a couple of my better pictures of attractive-looking fungi to finish up with.

The blue one is Mycena interrupta, common name Pixie’s Parasol, and the violet one is Hygrocybe lewellinae, or by the current name Humidicutis lewellinae, common name Mauve Splitting Waxgill.

Most Australian fungi are different from those in Europe and North America, and most don’t have “common names”; also the names get changed as DNA work get’s done on the fungi, so it’s a fluid sort of situation regarding nomenclature.

If you’re interested, you might like to read my concise introductory remarks to the world of fungi. Over to you!

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!

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!

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 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.

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!

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!

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.

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!

My heart still turns cold as I remember the horror of that day in this beautiful state of Victoria. Out of consideration for the people who had lost their homes, their friends and families, together with their dreams of life amongst the beautiful forests, we had fought the urge to see it for ourselves. Rebuilding is slowly starting, and the blackened trees greening up, so we drove NE to formerly beautiful Marysville. It’s a place we’ve visited many, many times in our lives, not least some wonderful times at scientific conferences, and at human relations weekends at Marylands guest-house, now in ashes. In the latter I had swum in the pool, naked at midnight! But now it’s all gone, all those lovely building destroyed.

The damage became obvious as we left Healesville. Burnt forest appeared as we drove past Maroondah Dam, part of Melbourne’s water supply. At beautiful Fernshaw the park full of exoitic trees was spared, but the bush was blackened and singed. But even here, the Australian miracle was happening; the tree ferns had responded with splashes of emerald growth shining like a beacon of hope throughout the bush!

Up towards Dom Dom Saddle the marvellously iconic stretches of Mountain Ash were forlorn but not beaten, with minimal damage. I had feared that they were burnt to a crisp, but that was not so. In fact, the fire had paused at the very edge of Dom Dom Saddle, scene of many a fungi foray in past years - but not this year. (Several of our fungi foray sites have been burnt out.)

Driving past Narbethong we encounter extensive damage to the forest and that goes all the way to Marysville, which shocks us. The bakery escaped the fire, and is the centre of town, crowded with any locals, construction workers and travellers like us.

There is little else except portable houses as temporary buildings, although there is the amazing presence of a little cottage here and there that escaped the blaze, for no good reason. The streets are empty of the once charming shops and businesses. But the grass is greening up here and there, and the verdant glow of tree ferns is common, offset against their blackened trunks. Here is the view from the bakery towards the bridge:

A lovingly created garden of sculptures existed along the road a bit, but it’s all destroyed, although there are early signs of rebuilding. Here’s a forlorn sight:

We have enjoyed many walks and drives to Steavensons Falls, just out of town, but the falls are closed to visitors, as all the signage, bridges and facilities were completely destroyed. There are signs of rebuilding just starting to happen along that road, but it’s basically a mudscape starkly puntuated by blackened trees, some of which show tentative signs of greens shoots.

We sadly wend our way home to safely suburban Glen Waverley, shocked and silent, finding this catastrophe difficult to explain to ourselves, let alone anyone else. Given the nature of the Australian bush, it is impossible to say that it must not happen again, as there will be fires again. But surely, somehow, it ought not to be beyond our civilisation to organise things so that the losses are not so devastatingly tragic!

One thing is for sure - our day’s visit to Marysville has changed Glenyce and myself irreversibly - our spirits will never be the same.