Five minutes of perfect light.

The weather in Melbourne was fairly awful today. Rainy, windy, and generally fairly hectic. I actually saw a tree on a car as I went for a coffee this afternoon. However, while walking through city, a five minute gap of beautiful light opened up on Degraves St and Centre Place. Here are some pics from the street corner of Flinders La and Centre Place.

Mel and Steve

Yesterday, I had the privilege of documenting Steve and Mel's special day. After shocking weather on Friday, the beautiful couple were blessed with a glorious day. Surrounded by their close family and friends, Mel and Steve tied the not at St Mary's in St Kilda and danced the night away at the reception that night.

Mel's sister helps her into her dress.

Mel rides in a Rolls to the service. 

The newlyweds arrive at The Royce hotel. 

Daylesford

Yesterday was cold. Like really cold. The day before we got there it snowed. Ash and I went to Daylesford to look at blanket boxes to keep mum's things in. The drive back was blanketed in fog.  

Australia's Day of Shame

I guess by now most of my domestic audience would have read the news. For anyone reading from overseas, here is a link to an article which contextualises these photos. 

Here are images from the snap protest that arose from yesterday's abhorrent decision by Prime Minister Kevin Rudd.

Protestors march down Swanston Street to the Department of Immigration and Citizenship 

Federal Greens Senator Sarah Hanson-Young sheds tears during her speech condemning the governments policy change.

Protestors brave the wintery Melbourne weather at the steps of the State Library

Protestors chanting while marching up Bourke St, Melbourne.

John Gulazri of Dandenong represented Melbourne's Hazara Community. 

Lucy Honan of the Refugee Action Collective

Despina Kiriakidis of Castlemaine stood vigil on the steps of the State Library. This was not a set up shot. 

I'll remember to brush my teeth.

On Saturday the 22nd June at approximately 1.15 pm, my mum breathed her last breath. I was holding her hand as she passed away. She was surrounded by family.
This is a photo from the alter of the Quang Minh Buddhist Temple in Braybrook. My grandmother's (mum's mum) ashes are there. When mum could, she would visit the temple and offer incense in front of an image of my grandma. The last time she went was on the 2nd of July, less than three weeks before she passed away.
While I am not religious, I know that the ritual was important to mum, and it is with that in mind that I follow the traditions which she followed when my grandmother passed away in 2006.
I guess what I am saying is I will remember her in my own special way; her smile and laugh, her wicked sense of humour, her humility and strength through unimaginable adversity, and a running joke we had..
I am 25 years old and have in some way or another lived out of home since I was 18. After mum was diagnosed in Jan 2011, I moved home to look after her. Before I would retire at night, she would always remind me to brush my teeth. After a while, I would remind her to brush her teeth. She would laugh and tell me she had forgotten that I had grown up.
In those final few hours of life, one of the last senses which people lose is hearing. In her final minutes, I told her that I loved her, and that I would always remember to brush my teeth. 

1992?

While I have stopped photographing professionally to concentrate on my new role as a full time carer / logistician, I have decided to spend my nights drinking and scanning old family negs. While I didn't take any of the pics, I really do appreciate learning more about them and myself. It's an interesting experience, although it does help you thinks perhaps more as they were than as you remember them being. I'm unsure of whether this is a good thing or not.

Mum, Portsea, 1992ish. Photographer unknown, possibly my father.  

Metastasis

A week ago today, mum was due to be discharged from the hospital. I jumped in the car and started driving there to pick her up when she called and said that they had booked an interpreter, who couldn't be there til 3. This was irregular, as the Royal Melbourne usually checks first to make sure patients have actually requested an interpreter.

I killed some time and met her there at 3. An oncologist, two nurses, interpreter, and an intern all filed into my mum's cubicle. The oncologist sat at the foot of my mums bed, and the nurse who had taken care of my mum's trial sat next to her. The interpreter stood in the corner.

The oncologist explained that she had bad news. In the month since mum had started the trial and had had her initial CT scans, 15 new tumours, the largest of which was 2.8 cms wide had developed in mum's brain. Two more had grown in her spine. The growth was aggressive, unexpected, and had explained all her symptoms. They explained that although a neurosurgeon would visit her later in the day, surgery was highly unlikely, and the next course of action would be to pull her off the trial and begin immediate radiotherapy to the brain.

Since then, mum has been discharged from the hospital. She has spent the last week at my aunt's house, where there is constantly someone home, and my aunt's can cook her something more agreeable to her palate. We have visited the bank to discuss taxes in transferring large sums of money. We have visited solicitors to revise and discuss her will. Today was spent at the radiotherapists completing another CT. Palliative care nurses have started visiting.

The day before mum was due home. They had changed her medication again, and wanted to see if steroids and an increase in pain killers would help. 

Despite constant care from dedicated nurses, mum was still exhausted and nauseous. 

Although I don't particularly care for the show, mum loves watching The Voice. During an ad break, she remembered to take her pain and anti nausea meds. 

Just after being told about the metastasis to her brain. 

My aunts were waiting for me to drop her off. After the doctors left the room, she called them to let them know what was happening and that she would be late. 

Over the fortnight that she was in hospital, I wanted nothing more than for her to return home. Sleeping in hospitals sucks, and all you can do is lie in bed or walk down hallways. Her being discharged was meant to be a happy occasion. 

Reflection after being discharged from hospital. 

Mum explaining to my aunt the situation.