Missing Hospital Blogs

I am most disappointed to find that none of the mobile blogs I sent from hospital have appeared here. Luckily I have them on my mobile phone so I'll post them now in the order I sent them.

June 11, 8.07am

I'm at the Ambulance Station, ready to go.

June 11, 11.37am

Going Up

I'm at the Alfred Centre about to go up to the 2nd floor where I will check in. It's all waiting from then on.

June 12, 10.04am

The Other Side

Here I am on the other side of the operation. All went well, I think. I have to wait for the pathology results.


My leg is in a full length soft brace so I can't tell how big the hole is. The doctor this morning said the melanoma was very deep. I'll have to wait for the full report.


I'm a bit tired, and my eyes seem to jerk around courtesy of the anesthetic, but otherwise, I'm not feeling too bad.

I'd kill for a cappuccino!




June 12, 2.21pm


Feeling Better


This afternoon, I'm feeling a bit better. I've been allowed up on crutches to go to the toilet. Yay! No more bed pans.


The skin graft donor site is still bleeding a bit, but so far so good. At least my vision has settled back to normal.


June 13, 7.28am


Day Two


Blimey! If you thought I had strange dreams at home, you should see these hospital induced ones!


Day Two - Sunday. I look like I should be shoved under a shower and given a good scrub. How I wish I could do that. A nice hot shower and a nice coffee - the stuff dreams are made of. Dreams. Let's not go there.

I'm waiting for breakfast, feeling kind of over the whole hospital thing. Last time it took about four days to get to this point. Thank goodness for television and all the puzzle books I bought along. It doesn't take much to amuse me. I'm happy drawing pictures and doing crosswords. And, there's always interesting people to talk to. That's by far the best thing about being in here. The people.


OK, I'd better go bang my cup against the rails so they'll feed me. Nah... just joking... kind of...




June 15, 11.21am


Pain


Had one of my dressings changed. Jeez! Can't wait till they take the lot off tomorrow. Can't wait till the staples come out of the main operation site. I can still feel it from last time. That's the worst thing about having gone through this before. I know what's coming.


I should get the pathology results tomorrow. Then I should know if I'll be going home on Thursday.


June 15, 10.54pm


I Want


I want, I want, I want. I want to be told in the morning that they got all the cancer. I want to be told I can go home Thursday. I want it to not hurt when they take my dressings off even though I know it will. It's even worse when you know what to expect. I know I must get through it, and I know I will endure it. But right now, I wish I didn't have to.


It's late. I'm tired. I want to go home. I want to be me and not be a patient any more.

June 16, 2.04pm

Staples and Dressings

The dressing was taken off the main op site. That is one big, nasty hole. I can see right down to the muscle. Interesting. The graft has taken and all looks to be healing very well. Most of the staples were taken out. It was as bad as I'd imagined - thankfully. It hardly hurt at all.


The donor site is now not to be disturbed for 10 days. They will let it heal before disturbing it. Whew! That suits me.


I still have to wear the leg brace, but I won't be going home tomorrow. I'll be going home Friday instead in an ambulance.


June 18, 10.29am


On My Couch


The trip home yesterday was uneventful and pleasant. It felt so good to be out of hospital. I'm now sitting on my couch at home looking out across the paddocks. It's so nice to be home.


June 23, 9.54pm


Home Again


Had my first check up back in Melbourne today. I had to go down and back via ambulance because I still can't bend my leg enough to sit in a car.


I was delighted to see two of my ward-mates also having their check ups. It was nice to see them again and say a final goodbye. We looked different all made up and dressed. So unlike our alter egos of a week ago. Such beautiful spirits those ladies had. It was a privilege to have gotten to know them.


June 26, 10.37am


Chilling Out


I was hoping to have the leg brace off, but because the skin graft is sitting on top of the muscle, it moves every time the muscle moves. I can't risk tearing the graft, so my leg is still in the brace for a few more weeks until the graft strengthens.


I had a phone call yesterday from the Alfred Hosp. They've decided that because this was my second secondary melanoma from the same original site of 11 years ago, I'm going to have radiation treatment on that leg. 


At least I can have that done in Albury, which is only 45mins away, instead of Melbourne which is 3 1/2 hours away.


There's no schedule for the treatment yet. The wound has to be healed completely first. 


So it seems that my journey is not quite over yet. I feel it will be. The radiation feels like it will be the completion.

In some way, I've come full circle. I have learned all I needed to learn from this and will carry the blessings and knowledge with me for ever.

Ready to go

Well, it seems that all is set up & ready to go. I'm ready too. My bag is packed and most things around here have been done. I'm not looking forward to the whole experience, but I'm looking forward to having it over and done with. Cheers, Heather

Just testing

Hi. I am testing my mobile phone to see if I can update my blog via email. If this works, I can keep you all updated with what is happening while I'm in hospital.

Winter Has Arrived

    Well, there's no denying that winter has finally arrived and the temperatures have dropped dramatically.

    No more t-shirts and tank tops. Now, it's jumpers and long sleeved shirts, coats, gloves...

    One thing I do love about winter, though, is its energy.

    Winter energy is crisp and sharp. It has a vibrancy about it. Auras of trees and earthy entities are strong and clear in the winter air. It is easy for me to see the rivers of energy running through Glenloth when I look out over the stark, white, frosty paddocks.

    There's a shift in color here too. The muted moods of autumn have given way to bright contrasts. The sun is brighter, the shadows deeper. Bejewelled spider webs adorn rusty barbed wire fences and bare tree branches. Life force, seeming to slow and mellow in autumn, far from sleeps in winter. It flashes its brilliance wherever you look. A bright bird here or there, sparks of light over the water, rainbows within dew drops and icicles, pretty, sparkling frost. It all seems so alive.

    I can't help but be caught up in the wonder of it all.

Melanoma Files

I should start a new blog: The Melanoma Files

Oh dear, I'm afraid someone flicked the silly switch on this morning. I can see the ridiculous side of everything today. I'll try to be serious...!

For the first time since this melanoma made itself known as a lump in my leg, it turned nasty on me. Last night it burned. It was a very strange feeling - a burning from within. Not a nice experience to be sure. Maybe in some way the lump sensed that I'm plotting to have it removed.

I view this cancer as being a natural part of my own body that has gotten out of control. To keep it from growing I've been surrounding it with a ball of golden, loving energy.

You might think that's a bit odd, but let's think about the words we use when we deal with illness.

We "battle" a cold. We "fight" cancer. We "endure", "go ten rounds with", "have a bout of", "bravely soldiering on"...

Getting the picture?

How often have you heard someone telling you that someone they know is "fighting cancer"? Or, having sadly lost someone to cancer they say: "He fought a hard battle right to the end."

If cancer is merely a bunch of your own cells that have grown out of proportion, then "fighting" it means you are fighting yourself. That's a "battle" that's going to turn ugly. I can't even win an argument with myself. Believe me, I've tried. If I lose, I lose; if I win, I still lose.... hmmmm. I'd rather reason with myself any day. At least there's a possibility that I might reach a solution.

My reality is that I've been living with melanomas for over 10 years.

Yes, LIVING with.

When it comes to illness, adversity and other things that frighten us, we suddenly go into battle mode. We want to strike down everything and everyone standing in our way - including ourselves. And, we've come to expect the same from others. We think they should fight. They owe it to us.

But, why don't we say: "He's living with cancer", or "He lived right up until the end"?

I'm sad that some people see that accepting my melanomas and living with them, is in some way a defeat. They think I've given up because I'm not beating my chest and grasping the sword by the hilt. [I've tried sword fighting. A medieval sword maiden I definitely am not. Not in this century, anyway.]

I'm also living with diabetes and a kidney disease [IgAN] that will cause me to be on dialysis some time in the future.

LIVING WITH

Whichever way my body chooses to function, it is still my body and I'll do whatever I can to look after it and keep it healthy. I'm LIVING with it.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to step into a newer model - one with a little less time on the clock; a firmer, fitter, more updated model. But then, running-in a new model always has its problems too.

Let's face it, I'm stuck with this body. I might as well LIVE with it. I've gotten used to it. It has its quirks, but it still goes - and there's still a few more miles in it yet.

Sorry. Silly switch is still on.

Where was I...? Oh yes LIVING!

Live each day as though it is your last.

I understand that sentiment, but... No way!

I'm living each day as though it is my first.

I'm living to plan, planning to live, intending to live right up until the end - whenever that may be.

"Them thar be fightin' words!"

No. They're living words. Words full of the exuberance of life. Words of love, power, energy, light... words to LIVE by.

Cheers!

50th

BIRTHDAY

WRITING

COMPETITION

Yes, it's true! In August I'll be celebrating reaching that wonderful milestone of turning 50 years old.

And I don't mind one bit. Fifty is a glorious age. It's a writing age, an age of experience and enthusiasm... and I don't feel a day over 20 [and I don't act it, either - so I've been told]!

To celebrate my "coming of age" I'm going to be running a month-long competition for writers.

I'm offering:

one free professional edit

of a short story, novelette, novella or novel

of any fiction genre!

As many of you know, I've been editing for Eternal Press for more than three years now, and I've recently joined the staff of Damnation Books as an editor as well. Before that, I've had many years of experience in editing short stories, newsletters, newspapers, etc.

If you want to check out my latest editing credits, click on my Editing Credits page and scroll through the wonderful titles I've been privileged to have edited over the past few years.

So, writers, get to it!

The competition starts NOW

from August 1 until August 31, 2009.

There will be one winner only. The winning author's name will be drawn out of a hat, totally at random, and announced during the first week of September.



Prize: One Professional Edit.



This edit is designed to help you polish your manuscript up to submission standard to present to a publisher if you're on your last draft, or to help you with the process of writing your story if you're on your first draft.

Please note: this is not a guarantee that a publisher will accept your manuscript.

Publishers will assign you an editor of their own if they accept your work for publication.

I am offering this edit in good spirit. It is totally up to you whether you wish to accept my suggestions or not.



Submission Guidelines



Please send your submission to: brittanykingstonauthor@gmail.com

Word documents only.

Place your name and email at the top of the title page.

Manuscripts formatted in Times or similar font, 12 point, 1.5 line spacing.

Fiction genres only.

No late entries will be accepted.

Winner chosen totally at random.



So there you have it, authors... have fun.



Yours in love and light



Brittany Kingston

Masters of Horror

Blogging today at: Masters of Horror

See you there!

Cheers

Brittany K.

The Paintings Are Up

 

All is ready for the Phoenix Art Exhibition.

 

Today we hung all our paintings up. It took from 11.30am until 7pm, but it's all done and looks fantastic. All we need now is people through the doors.

 

I have 24 paintings in this exhibit. Most are ink on canvas. A few are acrylic. All are fire elemental energy paintings.

 

I hope people buy some. All the money from sales is going to the bushfire appeal. It would be good to have a substantial amount to donate.

 

Over this next week I won't have much time for anything other than the exhibition. I have to be there at the door every day until it closes.

 

I'll take my laptop I guess. That way, when there are quiet times, I'll have a chance to get a little work done. Probably some editing.

 

It's late now. I have a load of washing to put in the dryer for tomorrow.

 

Cheers for now.

Conversation with my Adopted Mother

As part of an exercise in Life Coaching, we had an assignment to write a conversation we'd like to have with someone who has/had/ influence over our lives. I took this opportunity to say all the things I wish I really could say to my adopted mother. For reasons which will become clear to you if you read it, this conversation will never take place.

This was not an easy conversation to write, and I understand that for many people, it won't be easy to read. But it is what it is, and through actually writing it down, through acknowledging that this was my reality, I feel somewhat liberated.

So... for what it's worth, here's my conversation:

Conversation with my Adopted Mother

I know who you are. I know what you are.

You are a damaged soul. You have a personality disorder. You are a Sadistic Narcissistic Psychopath.

Nature selected you to never be able to have a baby of your own. Unfortunately, there are ways around that, and you were handed an innocent, helpless child. You were given me.

Because of you I grew up knowing only darkness, isolation, fear.

You are not an educated or intelligent human being, but you are extremely cunning.

For the first six years of my life, I was fostered, therefore you could not do whatever you liked because authorities were randomly looking over your shoulder. However, once the adoption went through, everything changed.

I remember that day. I remember the look in your eyes. I didn’t understand it at the time. I didn’t recognise your expression. Now I know what it was. It was a look of pure hate. That’s something I’ve never actually seen on anyone else. Real hate is not a common emotion. People use the word a lot, but the real thing, when it creeps onto a person’s face, is utterly terrifying. I can’t even explain the feeling I had back then – and I was only 6 or 7.

From that moment on, I hid. I hid my personality. I hid my talents. I hid my emotions. I hid myself. It was my only defence against your tyranny.

You were relentless in your emotional and mental torture.

You stole my innocence. You stole my faith in humanity. You stole my life.

One day when you were tired of dragging me along with you while you shopped, when you thought nobody was looking, you threw me out in front of a bus. If it were not for the quick reflexes of another lady who grabbed my arm and yanked me back to safety, I would be dead. You grabbed me from her and belted me with your handbag and screamed to everyone that I had been very naughty and ran out on the street. Everyone sympathised with you. You poor thing. You’d had such a shock. What a dreadful child. I was not even game enough to cry. But I remember. This was the first of many such incidents when I was still small. I remember them all. The lesson was well learnt.

For years I led a double life. I’d go to school and be a “normal” happy child who enjoyed playing with my friends and enjoyed life. When I came home, I retreated into darkness, quietness, I hid. I did everything I could to be invisible to everyone. I tried to stay out of trouble. I tried in the only way I knew how, to survive.

And still I loved you. You were my mother. You were doing this for my own good. After all, that’s what you kept telling me. I was adopted. I was bad. You had to straighten me out. I should be grateful. If I wasn’t, I would be “sent back”.

As I grew older, and you felt that your control over me was weakening, your cruelty accelerated. You grew more and more manic. Your outright cruelty to me had no boundaries. Nobody knew. You appeared so nice to everyone else. You had me so terrified that I never spoke out. I told no-one. I knew my life would be over if I did. Even Dad was under your control. To keep the peace, he became your enabler. He delivered victims to you for slaughter, and how you loved tearing them down. I watched it all. I learnt. I remembered.

Still, I loved you. Your hatred of me was soul-destroying, but I loved you. You were my mother.

I’m sad to admit that my love for you faded over time. I educated myself about people like you. I eventually freed myself of your influence.

This was hard. Harder than anyone can imagine. I still have to struggle against the conditioning you put into place. I still have to remind myself that you have no influence over me anymore. I still have to be aware of how diabolical you can be.

I want you to know that despite all that you did physically, emotionally, spiritually, psychically, I survived. I found myself. I am going to become the person I was meant to be.

I know that telling you these things to your face would never work. You hear only what you want to hear. Even now, you yell and scream over the top of anything I might have to say. You still will not relinquish your quest to destroy me totally. I don’t understand why, but I accept that you are who you are. There is no changing that.

Now that you are old and infirm, you see your only way of controlling me is through your money. You have made your Will to exclude me – your only child – and your two grandsons who also have recognised what you are and have nothing to do with you. You might think I have poisoned their minds against you, but I never did that. I allowed you to be their grandmother while being very careful not to let you do to them what you did to me. My sons are intelligent. They made their own minds up about you. I have never forced them to visit you. I understand that they do not want any contact with you – as sad as that may seem to outsiders.

I do not want anything from you. I’m not after your money or any of your possessions. When you die, I don’t care what you do with your estate. There is nothing in me that cares about such things.

As for you... I will not abandon you completely. Even though I have very little contact, I will not let you suffer alone in your old age. I refuse to look after you myself. I will not get that close to you. You are still a danger to me.

However, I will make sure you are well taken care of. I refuse to allow myself to be hardened or made to sink to your level of cutting people off whom you don’t like. I would like nothing more than to have no more contact with you, but I will not do that. I will make sure you are alright.

I will not be like you. I can never be. I am a free spirit. A kind spirit. I am an ancient spirit. I am a survivor. I have survived you.

It has been necessary for my sanity and spiritual health that I remove all influence you have over me. I have done that. Now I am safe to have some contact with you without fear that you will upset me in any way or be able to have any influence with your soul-destroying ways. Now, anything you say, do, or mean to do, has no affect. Your nasty thoughts, words and deeds mean nothing. You mean nothing to me. I find it sad that it has to be this way, but for my own safety, this is the way it is.

It is very sad that you will never get to know me as a person. We will never have a mother-daughter relationship, or even a friendship. I know that you are not capable of such things. Your personality disorder prevents you from thinking as a normal human thinks and feeling as a normal human feels. That is sad for you.

My life with you has given me experience in matters most people will never know – thank God. Thanks to you, I have an inner strength and sense of self that cannot be extinguished. I know that no matter what happens to me, no matter how cruel people can be, they will never have more than a passing influence over my being. My light cannot be dimmed.

As hard as it is for me to acknowledge your part in that, I thank you for forcing me to be strong, for forcing me to find myself and be able to rely on myself to get me through anything.

I am me, because of what you are.

Plays, Stones, Lattes & Science Fiction

It's not getting any less busy around here. In fact, I think it might even be busier than before.

How does that work? I thought things would settle down and be a bit less manic after the True Blue Aussie Review play finished. But no... there's still a steady string of visitors coming and going, and there's still a heap more paintings to do for my Phoenix art exhibition. Quieter after the play? More time for writing?

Not so.

These days the only writing time I'm getting is when I go down to the Idyl Book Cafe to do my Gypsy Stone Readings. Between readings I set up my laptop and put in a little quality writing time. What can be better than that? Sipping lattes and writing science fiction. Not bad at all.

It is only one day per week, but that is one whole day per week of writing. That's more than I can manage at home at the moment. Stolen time's the best, isn't it? It's almost a guilty pleasure. An indulgence. All the sweeter for the taking.

[Insert maniacal laughter here]

Oh, that's right. Full moon tonight. I might have known. It brings out the worst in me... or perhaps the best. Who knows?

Catch up soon.

Brittany K.