No Mum, don't panic, I haven't married again!
But, I was interested to read the news the other day that the Catholic Church has advised women, particularly in the 25-34 age bracket (oh damn, I just miss out) to not wait too long to marry. For no other reason than they might run out of options.
Interestingly there were some very important statistics that were attached with the story.
In relation to this particular age group, once you take out those who are already married, in de facto relationships, gay, too interested in going to the pub with their mates, earning less than $60 000 and complete and utter nutters, there is basically five eligible men left.
So, it seems that all those eligible women now not only have to fight over the five eligible men left but it doesn't matter if they like them or not, let's not even suggest love, they should just hook up and marry them.
Because Mr Good Enough appears to be fine.
Mmmm, not sure about this.
Thursday, 10 May 2012
Wednesday, 25 April 2012
They Shall Not Grow Old
Well, I am back here - 'back' being the operative word. Unfortunately the back trouble was something a bit more serious than I thought so still not up and about as normal yet.
But today, ANZAC DAY, I thought - get over yourself Lisa! I swallowed a couple of strong painkillers and off we went to the Moss Vale ANZAC DAY march.
Senior Sergeant, being School Captain, was walking in the march with school and laying the wreath with his gorgeous co captain, Miss Z.
Horse Girl was delighted as there were some light horse reenactment horses and soldiers, then she had to help me walk up the street! Lucky for me, she did it without complaining!
The march started with the horses and one of the bands then a few of the old diggers. Not sure of their ages, but they were a fair age I'm sure. They looked out of their cars and smiled and waved at us.
So, this set me off. I did warn Horse girl that this may happened, but the tears started. I could not help it. These men, and then some women who followed, have seen in their lives what no person should see.
They have lived in a way that no person should live. And they have no doubt had troubled times, through no fault of their own.
We walked (slowly) up to the Cenotaph and stayed their for the service. I was very proud of the Senior Sergeant, the way he composed himself, looked after some of the younger kids (apparently even one of the kindy kids decided they didn't want to sit on the grass but in Sam's lap - which he let them!!)
Then he and Miss Z walked over together, laid the wreath, and bowed their heads in respect. And all I could think of was how could a mother, father, aunt, uncle, brother, sister, friend, watch their person go off to war at an age only a couple years older than these two.
And so I cried again!
And I even wondered how many of those diggers would be there next year. But, I am certain, that the legend and tradition is safe for the future. Seeing some of those young kids, either walking with senior family members or wearing medals, or even waving the flags we got given, I know they will keep this happening for years to come.
We will remember them.
Lest we forget.
But today, ANZAC DAY, I thought - get over yourself Lisa! I swallowed a couple of strong painkillers and off we went to the Moss Vale ANZAC DAY march.
Senior Sergeant, being School Captain, was walking in the march with school and laying the wreath with his gorgeous co captain, Miss Z.
Horse Girl was delighted as there were some light horse reenactment horses and soldiers, then she had to help me walk up the street! Lucky for me, she did it without complaining!
The march started with the horses and one of the bands then a few of the old diggers. Not sure of their ages, but they were a fair age I'm sure. They looked out of their cars and smiled and waved at us.
So, this set me off. I did warn Horse girl that this may happened, but the tears started. I could not help it. These men, and then some women who followed, have seen in their lives what no person should see.
They have lived in a way that no person should live. And they have no doubt had troubled times, through no fault of their own.
We walked (slowly) up to the Cenotaph and stayed their for the service. I was very proud of the Senior Sergeant, the way he composed himself, looked after some of the younger kids (apparently even one of the kindy kids decided they didn't want to sit on the grass but in Sam's lap - which he let them!!)
Then he and Miss Z walked over together, laid the wreath, and bowed their heads in respect. And all I could think of was how could a mother, father, aunt, uncle, brother, sister, friend, watch their person go off to war at an age only a couple years older than these two.
And so I cried again!
And I even wondered how many of those diggers would be there next year. But, I am certain, that the legend and tradition is safe for the future. Seeing some of those young kids, either walking with senior family members or wearing medals, or even waving the flags we got given, I know they will keep this happening for years to come.
We will remember them.
Lest we forget.
Monday, 16 April 2012
You're Not Having a Heart Attack...Are You?
Unfortunately I spent much of Sunday at our local hospital.
I injured my back on Saturday, but at this stage I am unable to elaborate further on how and why, but let's just say it frigging hurt!
So, after I managed to actually get myself dressed and into the car, I drove about 3.5 minutes to a local medical centre. After taking 15 minutes to actually get out of the car and into the medical centre, they told me to get back in the car, and go to the accident and emergency at our local hospital. So, approximately an hour later, after managing to get back in the car and drive another 1.5 minutes, I arrived at the hospital car park but it then took me another hour to get out of the car and into accident and emergency!
The lady on the front desk, took one look at me, and then proceeded to advise me that I looked like absolute crap and I must be in pain. No. shit. sherlock.
She then grabbed a nurse who took me straight in to emergency, despite the look of daggers I received from those in the waiting room. Sorry, peeps, but I have spent many an hour or 10 in A and E waiting rooms and obviously I looked too scary to keep in the waiting room in case I scared small children.
So, off to Nurse 1 who asked what was wrong. At this stage, I actually had tears streaming down my face due to the pain but managed to tell her that I had a back problem and that all those knives in the back were really starting to hurt.
I then had to rate my pain out of 10. 10 being the worst, 1 being little or no pain. WHY THE HELL WOULD I BE THERE IF MY PAIN WAS A 1????????????
After telling her that the pain was so severe that I would prefer to give birth again whilst undergoing another knee reconstruction at the same time than put up with this pain much longer, she said " Oh, so you are in some discomfort then",
Thankfully Nurse No. 2 came along at that stage and moved me immediately into apadded room and told me to get on the bed. After I asked her how long I would need to be on it before I had to get off it again, she said that the Doctor would be straight in but why did I ask? "Because it is going to take me approximately 1/2 hour to climb onto the bed and to lay down".
So, the lovely Nurse No 2 got Nurse No 3 to come in and we managed to get me on to the table. Nurse No 2 then went off to spread some more loveliness around A and E whilst Nurse No 3 then told me she needed to do my obs!
She then took my temperature by basically sticking the thermometer so hard in one ear she actually took the temperature of the other one. Next was my blood pressure in which she pumped that band around my arm I fair dinkum thought my arm would fall off.
Then, the same question - "So if you had to rate your pain out of ten with ten being the worst and one being nothing..." I quickly interrupted her with my answer "It bloody well hurts. I do not want to spend my Sunday off in hospital with a back that is in so much pain I can't stand up and being asked frigging ridiculous questions, I just need some frigging pain relief so that is how much it hurts" she then proceeded to tell me perhaps the Doctor should see me!
I must admit, Dr S was lovely when she came in although she did look like she was about 12. After reassuring me she did indeed get medical qualifications from University and not from her Corn Flakes Packet, she then asked me to stand up.
I told her she might like to go and perform brain surgery or a heart transplant in the time it took me to actually get 70% upright, she helped me but stopped halfway to exclaim "Oh My God, I love your dress. Where did you get that from? It is SOOOOOO nice. I just love it. Oh tell me where you get it from - please!"
Upon then looking at my face she then decided that perhaps I wasn't there to dispense fashion advice and that I was in pain and she was very nice. Thank God she didn't ask me to rate my pain as she realised it bloody hurt!
So off I was sent to x-ray. Manuel, the lovely wheel chair pusher, was ever so gentle pushing me in the wheelchair down to x ray and telling me when there was the slightest of bumps. Every second word that came out of his mouth was 'Darlin' " and he was also basically the only staff member who managed to get my name correct - calling me Lisa instead of Linda. Now Linda is a lovely name, I know a number of lovely Linda's, but it is not my name. If they can't get the name right, what will happen next, I started to wonder.
Part 2 of this post will have to wait. It has taken me about 3 hours to write this one, as I can only sit for a short time and I just can't type lying down.
So keep an eye out for the next instalment. Including why I had to ask Nurse 4 who brought in an oxygen tank why I would need that when he replied "Oh, I thought you were the one having the heart attack. So you're not then are you?" ?????>??????
Cheers
Lisa xox
I injured my back on Saturday, but at this stage I am unable to elaborate further on how and why, but let's just say it frigging hurt!
So, after I managed to actually get myself dressed and into the car, I drove about 3.5 minutes to a local medical centre. After taking 15 minutes to actually get out of the car and into the medical centre, they told me to get back in the car, and go to the accident and emergency at our local hospital. So, approximately an hour later, after managing to get back in the car and drive another 1.5 minutes, I arrived at the hospital car park but it then took me another hour to get out of the car and into accident and emergency!
The lady on the front desk, took one look at me, and then proceeded to advise me that I looked like absolute crap and I must be in pain. No. shit. sherlock.
She then grabbed a nurse who took me straight in to emergency, despite the look of daggers I received from those in the waiting room. Sorry, peeps, but I have spent many an hour or 10 in A and E waiting rooms and obviously I looked too scary to keep in the waiting room in case I scared small children.
So, off to Nurse 1 who asked what was wrong. At this stage, I actually had tears streaming down my face due to the pain but managed to tell her that I had a back problem and that all those knives in the back were really starting to hurt.
I then had to rate my pain out of 10. 10 being the worst, 1 being little or no pain. WHY THE HELL WOULD I BE THERE IF MY PAIN WAS A 1????????????
After telling her that the pain was so severe that I would prefer to give birth again whilst undergoing another knee reconstruction at the same time than put up with this pain much longer, she said " Oh, so you are in some discomfort then",
Thankfully Nurse No. 2 came along at that stage and moved me immediately into a
So, the lovely Nurse No 2 got Nurse No 3 to come in and we managed to get me on to the table. Nurse No 2 then went off to spread some more loveliness around A and E whilst Nurse No 3 then told me she needed to do my obs!
She then took my temperature by basically sticking the thermometer so hard in one ear she actually took the temperature of the other one. Next was my blood pressure in which she pumped that band around my arm I fair dinkum thought my arm would fall off.
Then, the same question - "So if you had to rate your pain out of ten with ten being the worst and one being nothing..." I quickly interrupted her with my answer "It bloody well hurts. I do not want to spend my Sunday off in hospital with a back that is in so much pain I can't stand up and being asked frigging ridiculous questions, I just need some frigging pain relief so that is how much it hurts" she then proceeded to tell me perhaps the Doctor should see me!
I must admit, Dr S was lovely when she came in although she did look like she was about 12. After reassuring me she did indeed get medical qualifications from University and not from her Corn Flakes Packet, she then asked me to stand up.
I told her she might like to go and perform brain surgery or a heart transplant in the time it took me to actually get 70% upright, she helped me but stopped halfway to exclaim "Oh My God, I love your dress. Where did you get that from? It is SOOOOOO nice. I just love it. Oh tell me where you get it from - please!"
Upon then looking at my face she then decided that perhaps I wasn't there to dispense fashion advice and that I was in pain and she was very nice. Thank God she didn't ask me to rate my pain as she realised it bloody hurt!
So off I was sent to x-ray. Manuel, the lovely wheel chair pusher, was ever so gentle pushing me in the wheelchair down to x ray and telling me when there was the slightest of bumps. Every second word that came out of his mouth was 'Darlin' " and he was also basically the only staff member who managed to get my name correct - calling me Lisa instead of Linda. Now Linda is a lovely name, I know a number of lovely Linda's, but it is not my name. If they can't get the name right, what will happen next, I started to wonder.
Part 2 of this post will have to wait. It has taken me about 3 hours to write this one, as I can only sit for a short time and I just can't type lying down.
So keep an eye out for the next instalment. Including why I had to ask Nurse 4 who brought in an oxygen tank why I would need that when he replied "Oh, I thought you were the one having the heart attack. So you're not then are you?" ?????>??????
Cheers
Lisa xox
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