Extreme Punishment

Sometimes it doesn't just rain, it pours!

We've had so much going on in the past couple of months, we've felt at times like we needed the world to stop spinning so that we could jump off and have a break.

The latest saga here in the Crazy Cave involved our 14 year old daughter's appendix ... or maybe it was her ovaries. Nobody really seems to know for sure. What we do know now is that her appendix will never bother her again and that, when it was removed, the surgeon found evidence of a ruptured ovarian cyst. I've never had issues with my appendix or my ovaries, but they both sound painful.

While she was in hospital, and I stayed with her, the Caveman had to keep the household running for himself and the boys. He was a trouper - he had been the one to be awake most of the night with her when she first went to our local hospital (I was working night shift at the nursing home), then he drove us to the Sunshine Coast the next day to get her admitted to the hospital where they would do the operation. (Our hospital doesn't do them - don't even get me started on the subject of our local area losing the facilities we used to have ... )

One of the jobs he had to do while I was gone was to help our youngest boy complete his homework for the next day. It was a bit of a 'project', not the simple maths and spelling that is usually brought home. With my poor hubby being so tired before even sitting down to help, I did wonder how it would go. Obviously our little man was a bit worried too - and luckily this provided some comic relief for the whole family.

This is the text I received from The Caveman:

He said 'If I don't get this finished, I will get time in the reflection room, which is the third worst punishment in the school behind being suspended or 'executed' from the school!

Execution does seem a little extreme, doesn't it? It certainly gave everyone a giggle, including our poor girl with the sore tummy (which was, of course, made worse by laughter).

It gave his teacher a good chuckle too, when she was told about it the next day ... and no, he was not executed!

Work Changes

Yesterday I had the rather interesting experience of being in a room full of people who were told their workplace is going to be closed down.

That would be MY workplace. The aged care facility I work in.

It's amazing that something we all 'kind of' expected, can still come as such a shock. We've had a few residents pass away recently, which has left us with a number of empty beds ... and it hadn't gone unnoticed by staff that those beds were not being filled with new residents as they normally would be.

So, when we received notice that there would be a meeting for all staff, followed by a meeting for all residents and their families, it was natural that there would be speculation about whether the centre might be closing. It was with some trepidation that we all filed in for the meeting yesterday, and our worst fears were confirmed. The building is over 50 years old and was originally built to provide for residents with 'low care' needs. These days, there are more services provided to help people stay at home for longer before they need to move into a facility. This means that by the time they come to us, they tend to have more 'high care' needs. Long corridors and rooms far away from the nurses' station, along with a lack of the modern equipment that can be found in many other centres, mean that the building is no longer practical for providing aged care. The age of the building also means refurbishment isn't an economical option.

There were a few tears shed at the meeting, naturally. Our jobs are under threat and that is a worry for everyone. Some will be able to transfer to other facilities, which is what I hope to do, or into Home and Community Care, while others will be taking redundancy packages. The main concern for most staff though is the emotional state of the people we provide care for. I am proud to say we are all quite protective of our residents and we are acutely aware that the idea of having to move house will be upsetting to many of them. There is no set date for closure, it will depend entirely on when the residents have all moved out. This could take just a couple of months, or it could be well into next year - we have to wait and see.

I was fine at the meeting, although hearing sniffles around the room made me a little emotional. I was more affected on the drive home afterwards though, when I thought more about the people I will miss when we no longer see each other regularly. The residents will all end up in different places - some may even have to move away to other towns. Our staff group, who make such a great team and are so supportive of one another, will all go in different directions. I will even miss the building itself ... it's unique and quirky, and has the best views in town.

Most of all, I will always remember that this building is the one I re-entered the workforce in. My own confidence has grown so much over the 17 months I've been there and the experience has been invaluable. I don't know how much longer I will have there and it will be sad to see it go, but I will always think of it with pride.

Sharing the Classics

We like to share with our children, especially introducing them to the stuff we grew up with .... specifically music and television shows we loved.

The Caveman and I grew up in very different households. The thing we had in common was that we were both raised by single parents - his parents were divorced, as were mine. He was raised by his Dad. He was the only child and his exposure to different types of television and music was, by his own admission, fairly limited. He grew up in a regional area, with very little choice in TV or radio channels. TV viewing consisted of sport, news, documentaries and half-hour British comedies, and there was only one local commercial radio station. He didn't really discover popular music until he was a teenager and had his own radio in his bedroom.

My upbringing was almost the opposite; my mum was raising three kids, all with different tastes, so we had a lot of variety. We lived in Brisbane; TV was everything from cartoons to dramas, movies (old and new), sport, comedies, documentaries, and a bit of news thrown in for good measure. Music was a constant: radio (on popular commercial stations), cassettes and records - oh, how we loved our record player! - and watching Countdown (and Rage, later on) was like a religion for us every weekend.

There were other differences too, which dictated the atmosphere we were raised in. His Dad had grown up in a very stable, traditional home. My mum grew up in an orphanage ... when she had her children, she didn't have that traditional family model to follow. She was like a kid herself in many ways, and enjoyed discovering the things we liked, while also sharing her old favourites with us.

The Caveman and I are products of our upbringing - as we all are - and the differences do show sometimes. He likes tradition and routine, and believes that the kids should do what he says, no questions asked. On the other hand, I don't care too much about routines and I'm more easy going with the kids (probably too much, at times). We are well suited because of our differences, we have been a good influence on each other and, for the most part, have found a happy middle ground.

Sharing our childhood and teenage favourites with the kids is one thing we have always agreed on. In recent times, they've all learned more about 60's, 70's and 80's music than they ever wanted to know and, as it turns out, they don't mind most of it. Of course, the trade off for us is that we have to listen to their music too ... everything from Taylor Swift, The Weekend and Bruno Mars to Eminem and 50 Cent! But we are okay with that. I never wanted to be one of those parents that says, 'No, I don't want to hear the rubbish you listen to.' There is a lot of good music out there, if you're prepared to listen.

There has also been a resurgence of classic tv shows in our lounge room recently. We have a collection of movies and TV series which we choose from (none of us are interested in the constant stream of reality TV or current affairs shows that swamp our free-to-air channels). Our daughter has discovered a love for Star Trek: The Next Generation. Our younger son, aged 8, loves watching old Doctor Who episodes with his Dad and, in turn, the Caveman is learning to appreciate the modern Doctor Who as well. Our kids prefer the original Star Wars trilogy over the Prequels (well, doesn't everyone?). They have seen episodes of The Dukes of Hazzard, The Cosby Show and even Bonanza - now that's going back to before either of us was born! It's not all old stuff though... we also watch current shows like The Big Bang Theory, along with documentaries, sport and news.

Reading through what I've written, I realise that we may be nerds (really!), but the important thing out of all this is that it helps us to communicate better. Finding common ground, sharing things we all love, it extends into other areas of our relationships with each other. And that makes for a happy family.

Worth the Numb Butt

This is another blog about a special friendship ... although it has none of the loss or grief that was present in my last post.

Our daughter, the Cavegirl, is away at the moment, visiting her best friend in Townsville. Her friend used to live in our area, which is when they became friends, but her family moved away a few years ago. For anyone who isn't aware, Townsville is in Far North Queensland, a good 12 hour drive away from where we live - or an expensive flight (which is why the two girls haven't actually seen each other for over two years!).

It was organised in a bit of a hurry last week, when someone I know in the other girl's family rang to say they were heading up there for a few days and would our girl like to go along? I knew she'd be thrilled with the idea and said yes for her, since she was out with friends at the time.

We agreed the Cavegirl would have to be told a few days before the trip, so she could pack, but everyone else would keep it a secret so that her friend wouldn't have any idea she was coming.

In the end, it was last Saturday morning and our darling Cavegirl was in a typical teenager-ish grumpy mood. Deciding it was time to cheer up our cranky miss, Hubby and I took her outside and he aimed his phone at her with the Record function on, while I told her the options for the last weekend of the school holidays - she could choose from Ten Pin bowling, one of the Sunshine Coast theme parks, or a trip to Townsville to see her friend.

She was stunned. Initially she didn't know whether to believe me, but once she realised it was a genuine offer she burst into tears and gave us hugs, which made for a lovely, moving recording. We emailed it to her friend's mum, who told me it made her cry.

The next task was for the Cavegirl to keep the news to herself, so that her friend would be surprised when she got there ... a much harder task, when our girl was so excited herself! She loved the idea though and spent the next couple of days packing and doing her best to avoid social media (she didn't trust herself not to spill the news!).

She was picked up from here on Wednesday morning at about 7 am and spent the entire day in the car, with just a couple of stops along the way. She kept me updated with texts occasionally:

12 noon - 'good trip so far, non stop laughter and entertainment.'
1.30 pm - 'Just reached Rocky and this is seriously getting boring.'
5.20 pm - 'I can't feel my butt ... it's like it doesn't exist ...'
and then, at last:
11 pm - 'I am with my best friend!!! :-)'

They recorded the meeting for us ... my girl walking around the corner and completely surprising her friend, who genuinely had no idea she would be coming too. It was absolutely brilliant, both girls crying and hugging and yes, I cried when I watched it.

So, after spending four full days in Townsville, she will be arriving home tonight. From all reports, the girls have had a fantastic time together - I'm sure it would have been an emotional goodbye this morning. No doubt we'll have LOTS of photos to look through when she gets home, but I'll just be glad to have my girl home again ... even if she's tired and grumpy after the long trip back :-)

An Extraordinary Friendship

It's been another long break between blogs ... again, it's been difficult to find time, mostly because I'm caught up with work and family 'stuff'.

For this entry though, I am writing about my teenage son's best friend, Laura.

My boy met Laura four years ago, when they were both 12 and in their first year of high school. They became friends quickly, and were funny to see together because of their differences - he was so tall for his age and she was very short, he was shy and awkward while she was cheeky and energetic.

We used to gently tease him about the friendship, implying that she was his girlfriend. This was never actually the case though ... these were two young people who found each other at a time when they both needed an extra friend; both were showing signs of mild depression and struggling to find their way, like so many kids that age.

They could talk about anything. They connected in a way that a lot of people would be jealous of, if they knew the extent of it. There were never any arguments, no judgement, just an honest friendship. They could share their most personal feelings, but also tease and laugh at each other.

Then, when she was 13, Laura was diagnosed with cancer. 'Malignant peripheral nerve sheath tumour' was the official name for it, or MPNST. It's a type of sarcoma, usually with a genetic link, but not in Laura's case, which made hers a very rare cancer - 1 in 7 million. This nasty little cluster of cells had wrapped itself around a nerve in her leg and would change the course of her life entirely. She was whisked away to Brisbane, where she underwent surgery, followed by months of chemotherapy. My boy was, naturally, very concerned ... but we kept in touch with her family and I took him to Brisbane to see her a couple of times between treatments. Of course, they were also able to keep in touch via their phones and Facebook, messaging constantly.

Laura and her family would all count as some of the most positive people we've ever known. Their attitude was always that this 'thing' could be beaten and that they would get back to their farm, their goats and their crazy happy life. After a lengthy period of treatment, and left with a limp, Laura was declared cancer-free and able to go home in 2014. We were all pleased that she could be back in familiar surroundings and life went on as normal for a while.

Then, at Christmas and after 20 weeks in remission, the cancer came back. This time it was in her lung. She was rushed back to Brisbane, for more consultations and treatments. Again, we kept a close watch on what was going on, as well as on our boy - worrying about how he would cope if anything went wrong.

So, when the cancer spread and it became apparent that she wouldn't make it after all, I had to break the news to him. It doesn't matter that he towers over me, the need to wrap him in my arms and make the pain go away will always be there. The hardest thing as a parent is to know that there are some things you just can't fix for your child. Grief and loss is something they have to work through in their own way. I simply asked that he talk when he needed to, rather than withdrawing the way he did when his grandfather died a few years ago. He promised he would and, thankfully, he has. To me, to his friends ... I've never heard him open up about anyone so much before, or seen him so willing to come and ask for a hug when he needed one.

Laura passed away on September 10th, two years after her first diagnosis and just two weeks before her 16th birthday. I took my boy to Brisbane to see her in hospital the day before she died, when we knew the end was near. They had some time alone together and said a final goodbye - and they both knew that's what it was. I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for both of them.

Her funeral, just a few days ago, was a large, colourful affair ... as she wanted it to be. The theme was Cosplay (fancy dress), or gold/yellow (for childhood cancer). The coffin was painted in her favourite colour and covered in her artwork, lovingly reproduced by her family. There were tears, as well as laughter, singing and dancing, and her spirit was honoured beautifully. Afterwards, many of us went out to her farm, to join her family around a campfire, to talk and laugh and share memories. We walked around the property, visiting some of her favourite spots and looking at where her family will create a memorial garden. At one point, later in the evening, my boy looked up to the sky and pointed out a cloud formation to me - it was in the shape of a giant hand. He said, 'It's like Laura's giving us all a high five.' I'd like to think he was right.

His grief is palpable, and it will take a long time for him to get over losing her. He has other friends, even other 'best' friends, but the connection he had with her was special. He has had to do a lot of growing up in a short time, and it has been (and will continue to be) a difficult journey ... but I'm sure she will always be with him.

There is no way I can write enough in this blog to honour the person Laura was. Trying different treatments in order to help future cancer sufferers, going out of her way to spend time with other patients and cheer them up, her kooky sense of humour, her love of art - music, animation, drawing and dancing, her sassy attitude and determination right to the end ... and that she worried most about how her loved ones were coping. Those are the things we will always remember.

Our Roller Coaster Ride

I'm ashamed to say I have let my blog slip in recent times, while we've been having a hectic few months in the Crazy Cave.

In all honesty, I haven't felt much like blogging. The problem is, I like to keep it light and happy ... which can sometimes feel false when there hasn't been a lot of 'light and happy' going on.

We've been on a roller coaster ride with our teenagers .. and I don't mean the fun kind. I know everyone has trouble with their teens; it's a pretty standard thing for most parents to experience at some point. We go through all the usual issues - they argue with us over chores, they want more money to spend, they want to spend time with friends we may not approve of. At times, they don't like school, don't like their brother or sister, don't like us. Standard stuff that I'm sure most parents can relate to.

However, when issues such as bullying, social pressure and depression come into play, things get more serious. I've learned some things I never wanted to know about first-hand.

- I know how hard it is to keep sending your child to school when they are still being bullied and shamed over lies that were spread by another student over a year ago.

- I know how much pressure the school system can put on students by expecting them to know what they want to do with the rest of their lives, when most of them don't even know what they'll be doing on the weekend.

- I know what a struggle it is to watch your child not fitting in with that same school system, where it's mostly about making the school look good rather than helping students who are struggling.

- I know how it feels to take your child to a psychologist, and buy them anti-depressant medication.

- I know how surreal it feels to have to search your child's room for anything they may self-harm with. It's amazing (and scary) to discover what 'tools' they will utilise for the purpose.

- I even know what it feels like to hear that my child has been physically attacked by another teen, resulting in a visit to the hospital and the police station and a subsequent assault charge.

I've mixed up that list, to avoid singling out which of our teens has had which issues ... but when you read through it, it's all pretty scary. All this while dealing with another family member having an extended hospital stay for a fairly serious condition, plus the usual family issues (work, bills, etc) and my poor Caveman struggling with his Chronic Fatigue Syndrome - it's mostly under control, but always hovering in the background, and exacerbated by stress! For a time there, I worried about my own mental health ... with so much happening, it's easy to feel overwhelmed and just want to run away from everything. I usually don't mind that I don't have close friends nearby, but there have been times over the past 6 months when I could have done with someone, outside of family, to confide in over a coffee.

I believe it's our job to give our kids loving support and let them know they can achieve anything, so it was probably natural to feel like a failure as a parent when I realised that my children felt worthless. I try to remind them not to compare themselves to all the other kids who seem to be so successful. We are all on our own individual journeys and what we present to the outside world is only a small facet of who we are - and let's face it, we don't put the really bad stuff out there for anyone. I'm only bringing it up now because it's easier to talk about after things have settled down.

One of our teens has now left high school. 'Dropped out', is probably the official term, but is it really dropping out when leaving the school is the best option available? That child is now a much happier person, attending another educational centre where everyone learns at their own pace. The environment is a good, friendly one and the staff are supportive of all their students, regardless of ability.

Our other teen seems to be coping better with their issues too, and the two of them are getting along much better these days. Maybe each having their struggles has brought them closer? They've certainly both matured and grown through their experiences, and made me even more proud of them than I already was.

I've learned something else during the past few months (although, really, it was something I already knew). It's the importance of hugging my child, whether they think they need it or not ... because we all do.

Scaling the Heights

When you have tall people in the family, you get used to 'hiring' them out to strangers.

It isn't unusual for us to be approached in the supermarket by shorter people, asking if my husband can get something down off the top shelf for them. He always says yes and usually jokes with them that they, in return, should get him something from the bottom shelf, 'so I don't have to bend all the way down there.'

Last week, it happened with my teenager. We were in Brisbane and had called in at Hungry Jacks to grab some lunch before driving home. I was standing in line with my boys, waiting to order, when I was approached by an older woman who said, 'Excuse me, would I please be able to borrow your son?'

My boy is 195 cm tall, so I figured it would be for something height-related. It turned out the lady's grandson, a toddler, was stuck inside the very top of the structure in the HJ's playground.  She had asked the girl behind the counter for help, but the girl didn't think she'd be able to fit in there (my teen, apart from being tall, is also very slim).

So, off went both of my boys to help. My Littlest Caveman was able to get right up inside the structure himself and find exactly where the toddler was. The poor little thing had managed to get all the way up there to sit in the 'helicopter' seat, but then couldn't get back down. Once they had located him, my bigger boy was able, with some maneuvering, to get himself up there to retrieve him.

On a side note, it's actually quite funny watching a tall, lanky teenager trying to bend his body around all the twists and turns in one of those playgrounds! There is a reason the rules say the maximum height for children to play is 120cm.

He managed to get the little boy down, bit by bit, through the structure - much to the relief of the toddler and his grandma - then we had our lunch and drove home, feeling very proud that we'd been able to help.

The real bonus for my big boy, of course, was that he got to climb around in a HJ's playground ... he hasn't been allowed to do that for years!