Category Archives: recovery



I went to a Meeting today and then to the Doctor. Dr F whom I liked much better but it was only an urgent appointment so its back to the young ones later in the week. Not good enough for me. I need some experienced people. Ah well Ah well. He did say my lungs are clear and I am breathing well. And he had  a look of compassion about my being frightened at the possibility of its being pneumonia.

Surely I am beginning to come together somewhat. I shall still see little of the Brierfields even in holidays, methinks. Meetings do not appeal to me. Today has passed and night is here. I went out amongst people today and I feel a little grubby so I had best clean myself up spiritually again and just fiddle around for the evening.

I see myself as a Fractured China Doll. Carefully, carefully under repair.

Its a nice night. I am safe. I have been medically checked. I live. I have cameras.



Now for some pottering around.

LOST AND FOUND NO 8 : Patience is the best gift you can give me. I

LYNNE BWPatience is the best gift you can give me. It allows me to work deliberately and at my own pace, allowing me to rebuild pathways in my brain. Rushing and multi-tasking inhibit cognition.

I feel lost with this one. Izzy was patient with me but as for the rest, I don’t feel like I am treated with patience. Nor do I feel like I am heard. I know I am twisty emotionally but I don’t know what to do about that.

I lay there when I emerged from the Coma and I knew that nothing was working. Not my limbs or body or bladder.

I lay there and knew that I didn’t know what year it was – or month.

I thought I would be looked after but I wasn’t. I don’t know how deep nor how hot my anger over that is.

No matter. I am working this out – slowly. I swear I can almost feel the pathways. There is still the bit missing in the left side of my head. Some days everything fuses like it has the last few days and sparks have been flying. My head don’t feel like my head. My skin don’t fit and my eyes bulge.

I am REALLY grateful that mostly my brain is functioning. God knows who would look after me if it didn’t because there don’t seem to be anyone around to do so. But it does and I can work things out as long as I am left to the days where I can and in the manner which I can.


Be patient. Be patient. I don’t know how to get to Sydney to see the Baby Louis. I don’t know how to register my car. I don’t know how to get to meetings out of Urunga.  BE PATIENT.

They tell me that D and R have planted flowers for me in my garden. Their strange, background kindness brings me undone.

The vegies are thriving and although they don’t usually plant flowers, they have done so. I am doing a lot of internal rewiring and rebuilding in here, People. And I am getting just about as much help as the Governments of this world are giving disaster survivors. Its OK but I will not be appearing or actin normal for quite some time yet. If you don’t want to be near someone who is in the process of early reconstruction – bugger off. This is the best I can do.



  1. I need a lot more rest than I used to. I’m not being lazy.
  2. My stamina fluctuates, even though I may look good or “all better” on the outside.
  3. rehabilitation takes a very long time; it is usually measured in years
  4. I am not being difficult if I resist social situations
  5. If there is more than one person talking, I may seem uninterested in the conversation.
  6. If we are talking and I tell you that I need to stop, I need to stop NOW! 
  7. Try to notice the circumstances if a behaviour problem arises.
  8. Patience is the best gift you can give me. It allows me to work deliberately and at my own pace, allowing me to rebuild pathways in my brain. Rushing and multi-tasking inhibit cognition.

Daily Reflections
September 4

Yes, there is a long period of reconstruction ahead. . . . .

The reconstruction of my life is the prime goal in my recovery as I avoid taking that first drink, one day at a time. The task is most successfully accomplished by working the Steps of our Fellowship. The spiritual life is not a theory; it works, but I have to live it. Step Two started me on my journey to develop a spiritual life; Step Nine allows me to move into the final phase of the initial Steps which taught me how to live a spiritual life. Without the guidance and strength of a Higher Power, it would be impossible to proceed through the various stages of reconstruction. I realize that God works for me and through me. Proof comes to me when I realize that God did for me what I could not do for myself, by removing that gnawing compulsion to drink. I must continue daily to seek God’s guidance. He grants me a daily reprieve and will provide the power I need for reconstruction.


Reconstruction. I never expected to be reconstructing after quite this much devastation. But I am – bit by bit. I met the Ms for coffee this morning. I say coffee but that’s not what I drink. I have a Zinger fruit juice – double ginger. They brought me gifts from Brighton in England where they had been to visit their family. And I picked up a BERNIE SANDERS bumper sticker that Ellen D sent from Boston.  I talked with my daughter on the phone and then I slept as I do most days.

There are signs at the corner of the street to say there will be parking on the Ovals on Sunday for TOAST URUNGA and shuttle buses will run. Its a big food festival we have once a year. I shall need to block my front yard off from cars. I talked a while with D and R in the garden.

I went shopping. I was going to get Chinese but I did the supermarket instead.

I need to put the stock whip away and if I make small mistakes – it don’t matter.

I SPENT THE EVENING on Facetime with Eden and now I prepare for bed.




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I went to the Meeting at the Sailing Club today and when I came home my neighbours were at work in the gardens and then they mowed the lawns. I like having them next door and coming in to chat and garden. The weight it has lifted from me is HUGE. They won’t take anything for it either. The weight is huge but the kindness is even better. I feel safer with people seeing them around here. And I like them.

My nose is bleeding and my liver is hurting. Nonetheless I have enjoyed today. It looks beautiful in my yard and they said I can put Izzy’s boxes in their garage as well. Then I can get the Van back for visitors and see what I can do about curtains etc. And in the meantime – I wish someone would help me. Stop the bleeding and the pain.

And in the Meantime – I am quite happy this week.

UNTIL it gets late and then I hate his being gone. We did so many things together and he did the things I couldn’t do so well and I did the things he couldn’t do so well. I liked having a love affair. I liked having a sex life. I liked doing things with him. And now it is all done. And I don’t like it.


I am not being difficult if I resist social situations. Crowds, confusion, and loud sounds quickly overload my brain, it doesn’t filter sounds as well as it used to. Limiting my exposure is a coping strategy, not a behavioural problem.


I posted INTO THE MYSTIC tonight because I saw that Kate had posted it on Facebook while I was in the Coma. Some of the things which flash into my mind and confuse me are about the Kids and the fear and sorrow they must have felt for week after week. And the Little Girls. They had all just lost Iz and there was I – in a coma. Maybe guilt even got at them – not guilt for a reason – just that guilt that gets at decent people who wish they had been able to do more.

And then I want to weep because they are my children and grandchildren and I am supposed to protect them.

My Dad said that after my Mum died and amidst his inconsolable grief. I had gone to the hairdresser when next moment the Old Gentleman shows up at high speed on his motorised pony to pay the hair bill. I was in my 50s but he said :

“She is my daughter and i am supposed to look after her. “

They are my children and I am supposed to look after them.

And now –  I do not ind it easy to go amongst people. My senses are heightened and they shimmer and shake me. I am just now developing some routines which are beginning to work for me. Only the Children really soothe me.


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It 2am. And I am once more wide eyed. I just realised that my Mum died on August 28, 2001 so by August 26 she was in a Coma and I was rushing down here from the Gold Coast and we were watching and making the decision to turn off life support which is really the same decision Kate and Jim had to make last year about me. The difference being that a week or so later, I woke up. Mum didn’t.

Anyways, back to an outline of one sweet flowing day. Up early and into Bellingen to watch the School Book Parade. I got there early and went over to North Bello and had enough wits to call at Northside Motors and talk to the man there by the name of Col. That was the best contact re Alfie’s door as yet. He loves Alfas and thinks he can get me a door and put it on. He has Alfas of his own and they have bought Zara Hablethwaite’s old house beside the Aframe where I once lived and only a few doors along from me now.

Then I went to the School with The Girls. Felt right at home like an old teacher ought to feel. Marvellous. Then down Acupuncture. I like it there in the CWA rooms. People on tables and talking and healers at work. Paul stopped the agony of my spasms and cramps earlier this year but I have let contact become erratic and am paying the price. $30 is all they charge and 3 shiatsu students were also working there and 2 of them treated me as well but I think their treatment has harmed my back and shoulder. A little too strong as Gina warned me about. Nonetheless it was a beautiful morning. My Beloved Children and Healing.

I met Liss for lunch at the Black Bear Cafe and ate well.

I came back to Urunga to see a new young doctor. All is well.I am beginning  to tire now. All that is left to do is cancel the cataract surgery. I am at  a breaking point. After acupuncture I am right royally loopy.  Time to sleep and leave tomorrow’s business until tomorrow.


To everyone who is sitting up late enough that they can forget that the bed is empty and the loved one gone, Hello. May you eventually sleep well. There are more of us out here thinking of you. Even though there is nothing we can do to help except wave across the ether.


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Well, I haven’t been in a stagecoach and barely even in a car this week, but I Feel like I have. I feel like these 2 little fellas. There is some rain about tonight. First in a long time. Other people are up on Facebook. I never knew there were so many sleepless people.

And I would be asleep still if I hadn’t been trying to work out which great grandfather fell to his drunken death in his mine shaft at Castlemaine way. And also if my other thumb weren’t hurting from getting caught in the other mousetrap. Teach me to declare war on the damned meeces.

  • So – no wonder I am traumatised. The other Grandfather of my Grandfather , well , he was caught trying to rob an oyster bar in Glasgow – Gallowgate to be precise and he was apprehended by an old man and a woman with a walking stick as he tried to dig his way from the cellar into the Bar above. I figure he was either an Alcoholic or an Oycoholic – neither being uncommon in my family – then they shipped him out here. Back then we not only welcomed Immigrants – we created them.
    and one of the others died in a strait jacket in Moreton Bay under the label by Rev Sam Marsden of ” curously the most insane man I have ever met. Personally, I understand someone chasing someone else down the main streets of Parramatta and firing wildly at him I have done similar myself in Bellingen.
    I am pretty sure that I won’t find another Iz. He would wake up and discuss these matters with me no matter what the time was.
    Now I begin to tire. A glass of water and some ginger bikkies. Next thing I might do is bake some cookies. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

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A strange find in the middle of the Night. I was once a licensed secondhand dealer and my partner and lover went by the name of Jacoby. And we did sell all sorts of things.