Phases Of The Moon and Phases Of Fertility


Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Palliative Care

The case coordinator for my father has called my mother to set up an appointment for this Friday.

They are talking about transfering him from the Kingston Centre to Bethlehem Hospice as he has deteriorated to a point where they feel that Palliative care is the best option.

Sometimes I hate knowing what I do about ageing and aged care.


Cravings: Consumer Guilt and Left Leaning Biases

I'm an ethical vegetarian. I don't like the thought of any creature dying so that I can eat. I explain it as not eating things that have faces which leads to idiots offering me oysters or scallops.

Lately I have found I am craving the flesh of animals. Worse: The flesh of animals prepared by those ethical animal rights protectionists KFC!

I eat a healthy diet. I work in a physically demanding job. I take Elevit and flax seed oil and folate... all for the baby as well as to maintain my own health. I drink lots of water and eat plenty of proteins; mainly free range eggs (from my mum's neighbour who has chooks, geese and ducks), mushrooms, soy and dairy. I could happily live on fresh fruit and veggies at the moment.

Soup? Curries? Spicy foods? BRING THEM ON!

But still I'm craving KFC.

I try to avoid KFC and McDonald's for ethical reasons. I'll buy Hungry Jacks because my understanding is that they were originally a Western Australian company; they have true Vegan foods and will serve me a "baguette and bun free Veggie Burger" which means a salad with veggie patties and the sauces. Otherwise my "evil food eating" is limited to chips and gravy or chips and a pickled onion from local businesses.

Actually the Boi and I try to buy as much as possible from small companies and not mega corporations; it's our little insignificant (?) protest against the exploitation of people and primary producers. You know; the ones who grow the foods and pick them?

We shop for our coffee through a Fair Trade supplier, same with our tea and chocolate.

Our green groceries are from a little grocers in Croydon, or an organics store in Heathmont.

Most of our grains come from a wholesale provider; they have a wide variety of dries fruits, nuts, flour, pastas, legumes and the like; only no rice and I can get that at the organics store in Heathmont.

We buy "Earth" brand products to minimise our footprints and are exploring biodegradable and cloth nappies for our baby. In fact we only really go to supermarkets for Milk, Cheese and GF Bread. (OK, and junk foods like mineral water and Coke, and YES I know how hypocritical that is.)

One day we will grow our own food, have our own chooks, be as self sufficient as possible; make our own bread (once I figure out the balance so we get a nice GF loaf and not a house brick of dough) live what my family calls the "Left leaning delusional greeny" life. (My mother says I was always like this, at 6 I was running away to join a commune and be a Hippie.)

I try not to force my views on others; what you do with your body is your choice; you decide the depths of your footprint.

So; why the hell am I craving the flesh of an innocent creature that had no life to begin with grown in minuscule cages, force fed steroids then sent to an organisation that changed there name to distract from the F meaning Fried.

OK... rant over... feel a little better but still want to eat death.

Butter Mushroom for tea tonight might help. Tofu for lunch with steamed veggies.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Song lyrics and mortality: the cyclic nature of being.

My father is reaching a point in which he is starting to not recognise those around him. When we visit he holds my hand and squeezes my fingers so tight I fear they may break, but I'd rather broken fingers than the broken heart I carry inside me as I watch him die.

They're using a Blood, Sweat and Tears song on Medium tonight. You know the one:

I'm not scared of dying
And I, don't really care
If it' s peace you find in dying
Well then, let the time be near

It continues in the chorus with:

And when I die, and when I'm gone
There'll be, one child born
In this world
To carry on, to carry on
Pretty much my view on death and dying in one song.

I'm not afraid of my own mortality, I doubt I ever have been.

I'm missing the man my father was already. He has been my anchor for so long that now, even with the support and love of the Boi I feel adrift. Little things I could always talk to my Dad about I cannot talk to him about anymore . He will never be able to assuage my fears about the pregnancy or what life will be like without him in it.

I know you only get handed as much as you can handle but I don't think I can handle anymore.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Still here after all these tears...

My father's health continues to decline.

My stress levels in dealing with family continue to increase.

The Boi and my Mother worrying over my stress levels is exacerbating the whole thing. (Dad is the important one.)

Our grain of rice is going strong and causing much nausea.

I am feeling more alone and isolated than I can explain.

I now understand why people become shut ins.


Thursday, March 01, 2007

...and as the tumble weed rolls past...

OK: so I've been a little quiet lately.

I have reasons.

Good ones.

Like Morning sickness lasts most of the day and lying down helps more than staring at a computer screen.

Or I didn't know how to describe the contrast in news lately and not sound bitter about what it means.

Lets start with some good news.

Baby's heartbeat was 140 at the ultrasound on Monday. :)

I'm going to be a grand aunt again before I am a mum... two weeks before in fact. :)

I'm getting lots of work, have caught up on two seasons of "West Wing", am eating some great curries and have figured out a way around the finances associated with "Baby means not working." :)

All good things.

My father has a brain tumour, probably won't live long enough to meet my child, is going to have to be admitted to a nursing home as we will not be able to care for him at home (even though this is his wish) and the Boi and I will be moving in to help my Mother cope with all the crap that is going on. :(

All bad things; sort of...

My Father dying is one of my biggest fears. My child/ren not knowing their grandparents ranks right alongside that.

Moving home to my parents place helps us financially and me emotionally as I can at least help, but Dad not being there is breaking my heart. I don't know how my Mum is coping. I think she's more concerned about being alone though as she likes the idea of the Boi and I moving in and has agreed to cats moving with us... well... cat. :(

I've always felt that a life goes in a family and another replaces it. My Dad is such a huge figure it's going to take three babies to replace him. Huge as in amazing and all things positive not huge as in obese.

So anyway. If people don't hear from me it's because I'm busy, moving, pregnant, grieving, numb, crying, vomiting, working, vague and slowly collapsing in to an emotional mess.

Warning people: this may result in some Vorgon quality poetry.

Meanwhile: I expect Mr Bolt to jump on the announcement from the US that Gore's electricity bill is high and he hasn't implemented what he preaches... anyone else think that this is a preemptive strike against Gore in relation to the US elections? Me thinks the Republicans are getting worried. (Moving home means more exposure to the HUN; my parents buy it while the Boi and I are Age readers. Expect some ill informed rants about the quality of journalism as a way of venting emotions that are easier to handle if ignored short term than confronted.)

Did any of that make sense?

If your interested photos related to IVF they are posted over at Crayons out of respect for those that don't want to see that type of things.

For people with my number who read this the phone is metaphorically off the hook till I can cope. Please, don't take offense. I just need a bit more time. It's only been a fortnight and all the news keeps getting progressively worse. I'm also making lots of immediate family calls so the phone is becoming the enemy.