Bumps and Knocks

Take it easy, put your feet up and relax.

 

Not a line I hear very often and not that easy to put into practice really, but as a result of an accident with a kitchen knife, some microsurgery on my left hand I’m now being pushed to actually take note of it.

 

It also seemed to be a good time to update our news. For anybody still following the migration of the Von Trapps out of Switzerland to Australia we started off the line a year ago and changed through the gears until reaching about third gear, enthusiastically embracing every challenge and enjoying the excitement of it all. Then we stalled. Mainly due to Australian bureaucracy, form-filling and feeling a bit like outsiders, but also the separation from other family members and the stark realization of what we’d actually done hitting home!

 

You can’t even phone a friend without doing a quick calculation of time zones to make sure they’re not sleeping soundly, which they usually are!

 

So because we seemed to be stuck I’ve dropped the manual gear changing analogy as our ‘vehicle’ travels through life and slipped the selector into drive à la automatic transmission, it’s much easier.

 

In the year we’ve been here we’ve learnt an awful lot about life in Sydney, New South Wales, which is very relevant as I think life in other states of Australia could be different.  Things have not only settled into routines for all of us, but we’ve been accepted into lifestyles here. In short we’ve made friends and that counts for an awful lot. Sure we still miss the family but visits are possible and illustrate the frustrations of places we’ve known, re-affirming our belief for leaving those places and making this difficult move. The system is still there and we’re finding out ways to work it; rather than fighting against things, we’re going with them.

 

For me work has turned into a daily trudge to stations, followed by the cynical proceedings of employees with egos of varying sizes and intelligence to match, rounded off with another city schlep back, although in its defence it’s still a beautiful city by day or night and schlepping round it is never really a chore. And unlike many other projects I’ve been on at least I get to trudge home to the troops every night, which in itself is a priceless thing.

 

Young Ted is doing well at the school in the Bush and his younger siblings are enjoying their full schedule of swimming, libraries, craft, movies and day trips with their nanny and day-care. One of the older siblings has returned to the fold too and filled a void that was only too painful despite the explosive ups and downs of teenage traumas.

 

Lindsay has worked her way into a good little part-time number and is full of positive vibes about resurrecting her podiatry career, with a view to bigger and better things. She will sit an exam later this year and all going well could return to the workplace again with a full licence to drill. All our fingers are collectively crossed on this one, as she’s rather nervous about the exam itself.

 

Meanwhile as the rest of our friends and families in the northern hemisphere prepare to shiver their way into a cold and grey winter we’re enjoying the easy going sunshine and refreshing benefits of a solar heated pool in the garden. A few days ago I convinced Scarlett to have a go with the mask and snorkel. Within a few minutes she was quite happily kicking across the pool and totally chuffed that she beat Ted to it first! Their competitiveness is sometimes the source of much worry for us but in things like this it does the trick.

 

As if to go one better Ted has now mastered a duck-dive from the surface so as to be able to retrieve dropped goggles and snorkels off the bottom of the six foot end and although Scarlett has the right idea, she just needs to practice the technique. He’s also had his first Nippers session on the surf trainer boards and took to it like a duck to water; there could well be some natural talent there.

 

And not to be forgotten, Lottie is always in on the action even if it is only from the poolside for now. Her confidence is coming along and she quite likes taking a ride round the pool on my back, or on one of the floaty toys, Orca being her favourite, (and yes, I have tried to steer my kids away from calling them killer whales).

 

And to think just one year ago they were all still in water wings and flotation jackets.

 

But back to my circus act with the knife a couple of weeks back. Stupidly I was attempting to open a pumpkin type squash by splitting it with the point of a knife. Any squeamish readers should skip a paragraph or two here. With the tip part way into the thing I took a firm grasp with my left hand on the handle, making sure the sharp edge was facing away from me (how could I have even thought this was being careful - doh?) and brought my right hand down hard on top, hoping to split it open. Instead the knife slipped off, its point lodging firmly into the wooden board while my precious left hand slipped a couple of centimetres down the handle onto the sharp bit. When I pulled my hand away realising what had happened I briefly opened up the finger to examine what I hoped was just a small cut to find something like an actor’s stick-on fake wound with distinct white pieces in among the flesh. Only this bugger was real. The bedlam that is tea-time at our place continued, with the kids shouting and screaming, the dog running around daft and Scarlett walking in after falling off her bike. Fortunately for me it didn’t bleed and I curled my fingers shut making a bee-line for the horizontal position. I’m not good with too much gore and crap on my own person. A couple of the kids went into states of major concern and that troubled me a lot but I suppose when you see Papa lying flat on the bench all kind of green it must be quite disturbing.

 

Anyway, I was soon able to get up and convince all except Lindsay that everything would be fine. She knew this was big. So we put them all to bed and headed off to the emergency department at the local hospital. Several hours later after being made to watch a dreadful TV film waiting among the drunks and car crashers, I was subjected to excruciating pain of another level as a senior doctor convinced herself that I had a separated FDP (severed flexor tendon to you and I) by poking around in the cut with a pair of forceps. She might as well have pulled on the end of the tendon to see if the tip of my finger would flex. You know, like we used to do with crabs claws once we’ve eaten all the meat out! Then came the great news that I would be off to the hand unit in the morning for surgery and an overnight stay.

 

And that’s how I find myself with a stitched up Brunner zig-zag incision all the way down my little finger covered by a plastic splint keeping my fingers at ninety degrees to my hand for the next 8 weeks while the cooked spaghetti of a tendon knits itself back together.

 

Taking a large step back from it all and I know things could have been worse, I can only use this episode as a learning curve for better things. Like learning how to brush my teeth with the wrong hand, after several goes with toothpaste up my cheek I’m getting quite good at it now. Same goes for other bodily functions and cheeks but that’s probably quite enough detail there. The number of occasions in a single hour where I’m constantly stopping to think about how to do something is amazing.

 

I’ve also been banned from driving but I can already see a chink in the armour of my tormentor on this one. Last week the Toyota had to go and have new brake pads fitted so the Merc was used in its place and left at the garage when the work was finished. I was actually asked to drive it home as Lindsay just couldn’t quite manage the two cars at once. Under clear instructions I drove home in front of an audience and you should’ve been there when the Toyota door opened and Ted shouted,

 

“Well done Dad, that was great driving, you stayed really straight!”

 

What a compliment, like I said things could’ve been a lot worse.

 

The Little Nipper

We turned up a little late and hadn’t foreseen the huge number of people for the opening day of the Nippers at the Surf club and so were forced to park aways off from the beach.

 

The rest of them had already queued up behind the appropriate cap colour stick in the ground and made off to the beach, so we hurried down to the sand and spotted the under 6’s being led off in a long line by their two helpers. Ted joined the line and was soon involved in the action.

 

Being day one of the summer season there were hundreds of children from the 5 and a bit year olds all the way through to the young teens and of course a similar number of parents all proudly supporting their offspring; no doubt hoping for a budding champion or two in their midst judging by the way some of them cheered when junior simply got in the right queue! Up to the age of fourteen the junior lifesavers of the clubs affiliated to Surf Lifesaving Australia are referred to as Nippers. Activities that combine competition, technique and fun bring together the skills necessary to groom the Surf Lifesavers of the future.

 

We were there to have some of this fun. Ted has enrolled in the Elouera Sharks Junior Lifesavers to join in with a way of life we couldn’t know in the other parts of the world where we’d lived and as much as anything to learn a bit more about the sea and its nature. If he ends up not liking it, or not wanting to be part of it then so be it, but he seemed very keen as they made off to the open part of the beach for the beach sprint.

 

He’s a good little runner and has won a few times at the school cross country and sports days. There were little lines of them at the flat part of the beach laid out for sprints and as the lines moved to the front and the kids all got into position and sped off down the five lanes to the finishing post at the end. Ted wasn’t exactly getting a little anxious as they moved forward; he was staring out to sea at one point! He looked across and found me on the sidelines and I gave him a reassuring nod. But as soon as it was time to go he was off like a hare from a trap. And Dad stood there with a huge ball of emotion bursting forth into a full volume cheer for his little boy. Within a few seconds he was not only metres out in front but looking over his shoulder at the boys behind and actually slowing down to let them catch up! Needless to say he crossed the line a fair country mile in front but we’ll have to sort out that slowing down bit.